Ice Storm

My beloved former home needs help...

My heart is heavy today.

My beloved former home, Gaylord, MI, was hit with a catastrophic ice storm over the weekend that has left most of the county without power. Gas and food reserves are dwindling, and more snow is expected on April 2. Pictures and reports coming in from friends are surreal—trudging a mile in the snow to a passable street to retrieve filled gas cans from a friend, countless trees decapitated, tracking down generators so that the local church can continue to provide shelter for displaced residents. roads littered with branches and powerlines. It looks and sounds like The Last of Us or the Walking Dead, except it’s real.

Earlier today, I was on the phone with a friend and former Gaylord resident, Erin, who shares my sentiments about the Alpine Village.

“I’ve tried to write about Gaylord before, what it means to me, but I just can’t describe…” I say, my voice trailing off.

“I know. I know,” Erin says. “I get it. And it’s not the kind of place I, or you, thought I would want to live. And yet…”

“Exactly. I wouldn’t have ever thought I would want to live there.”

I came to Gaylord, a place I hadn’t heard of until 2018, full-time in March of 2020 with my then-partner. The town and the house we lived in had a long, important history for him. It was where he wanted to be. I wanted to be with him, which meant I would be living in Gaylord.

The transition was not super easy. There was the pandemic. I was far from my kids and friends. I had never lived in a town so small, so cold, nor had I ever moved to a place without a job or kids to help establish a community for myself.

Over time, the town and its residents took root in my heart and started to bloom in a way few places have.

The yoga community at Yoga-45 became my community lifeline. That is how I met Erin. And Karen, who became my friend and hairdresser. And Toni, who became my friend and financial planner. And Dana, who became my friend and boss. And Mary B, who became a friend and whose house became my refuge. The list of beautiful and amazing women that I met in that magical space goes on and on.

Living in Gaylord changed my definition of community.

When I came to yoga class, not knowing anyone, fellow yogis were chatting and laughing and sharing quilting techniques and seeds for the garden and making plans for dinner and drinks and walks and women’s circles. They brought me in, and it felt like a warm blanket. Women of different ages, stages in life, professions, and backgrounds. It didn’t matter. We were here, now, for each other.

A tornado ripped through Gaylord in May of 2022. When I came to yoga class, I heard the women talking about where to bring gift cards and what was needed at the United Way and who needed help with clean up and what else could be done. These exchanges were shared in a practical and matter-of-fact way. There was no gossip or extraneous chatter. People may have offered thoughts and prayers, but there was action to back them up. There was a problem. People in the community needed help. Those who could helped. It was a given.

When my life fell apart two years later, these women were there for me, creating a web of support and love that kept me from splatting on the ground. They were there for me in a way that was validating yet didn’t keep me stuck. With my longtime friends and family far away, who were holding me up in a different way, these women rallied around me. Mary B let my dog and me live in her house while she was in Mexico. She didn’t hesitate when I texted her and told her what happened. She had already locked up her house for the winter, not having any idea that my dog and I would be squatting for two months. She opened her home and her heart and allowed me to pause and breathe and create a sense of safety for myself. Without my time in her house, the rest of my 2024 adventures would not have been possible. I am forever grateful for her vulnerability and generosity.

Now, the residents of Gaylord need help. My friends are safe, stuck in their houses cooking on little camping stoves and with spotty internet, yet the community at large is suffering. Houses have been destroyed. Food and shelter are in short supply. It is unclear the scope of the impact or how long the cleanup and rebuilding will take.

Yesterday was my last official day on the job as Communications Coordinator for the Otsego Community Foundation, a position I have enjoyed for the last two years and will miss deeply. I have seen how my colleagues at the OCF responded to the tornado, how they rolled up their sleeves when needed, and how much they love and care for their community and their neighbors. They are seasoned and compassionate professionals and know what to do when disaster strikes.

I can’t do a lot from my apartment in Detroit for the community that gave me so much except share information and a link for donations to the Disaster Response Fund of the Otsego Community Foundation. This fund is a centralized opportunity for donors to contribute to response efforts. Grants from this fund will go to local nonprofit organizations that are providing immediate relief, such as food and shelter, to Otsego County residents. When the time comes, funds will go toward short-term recovery and long-term rebuilding.

https://give.otsegofoundation.org/give/305769/#!/donation/checkout

You can choose Disaster Response Fund in the dropdown menu.

Thank you for your support, and thanks to Gaylord for being the home and community I didn’t know I needed.