Mackinac Island, Michigan is one of them.
The first thing you should note is that Mackinac is pronounced the same way as Mackinaw. Neither acks more than once. One is French; the other is Native American. Both have forts. Not like the kind you built in your living room, but the kind soldiers built when they stole countries and planted their flags. Fort Mackinac is on Mackinac Island. Fort Michilimackinac is in Mackinaw City, on the mainland of Michigan's Lower Peninsula (not to be confused with the Upper Peninsula, where only strange folk live). The only thing that separates the two is a body of water known as Lake Huron, a 30-minute ferry ride, and about a hundred years of transportation history. There are no cars allowed on Mackinac (though I once saw a fire truck), and so the island is filled with cyclists and pedestrians, tourists and historians alike. It's beautiful in the middle of summer; a green, wooded isle surrounded by crystal clear blue water. It's about two hours from my parents' house, and we used to go up there every year or two. Besides the scenery and the cannons, there's pretty fantastic fudge.
I also adore Ann Arbor, Michigan.
If you haven't caught on, I spent the first one point three years of my adult life in this city. It's home to the University of Michigan (go blue!), and a whole lot of really strange, yet lovable people. In the summer especially, there are constantly festivals and events going on downtown, most notably Top of the Park, in which they take over a part of campus and have live music and a huge movie screen. I met some of my best friends, learned how to salsa dance, and discovered fairy doors in this lively Midwestern city. And when I talk about missing home, as a location, it's most often A2 that I'm referring to. I'd go back in half a heartbeat, but I'm afraid I'd find the city (and its inhabitants) much changed since I left more than a year ago. Being a college town is what makes it fun, but it is also what keeps it constantly evolving.
The last place dear to my heart is one I've been to just four times, never staying for more than a few days (or a few hours) at a time: Nashville, TN.
I first visited the city as a junior in high school. I was just barely seventeen, and had been invited on the shortest mission trip ever by a close friend. We spent one full day traveling, one full day in the city, and then another day driving back to Michigan. Mary Jo and I fell so deeply in love with the city in that short jaunt that we convinced our youth group leader (aka...my mom) to take us back there the next year. The second shortest mission trip ever gave us two full days in the city, and I started dreaming of the day when I would move there. I went back as a sophomore in college, passing through on our way home from a spring break trip to Katrina-ravaged Mississippi. And then I spent a few frustrating hours searching for a restaurant with parking there on the second day of my trip to Texas last February. I can't pinpoint the reasons I love Nashville. Perhaps it's the people; they were always so nice, and so southern. Perhaps it's the rolling hills, or simply the memories created in those ridiculously short trips in high school.
Whatever the reason, when I heard that Nashville was flooding, my heart was broken. I followed it constantly until the waters receded, and still check for updates. Water is one of the most damaging disasters that can occur, and the city has a long road ahead of them toward recovery. As a disaster geek and a lover of the city, I want to be there to help, but I know that my place is here, helping Texans to recover from and prepare for similar events.
So today I bought this poster:
For me, it's a beautiful 18x24" print; for the Metro Nashville Disaster Response Fund, it's $20 for relief. In general, I have mixed feelings about getting something in return for a donation. If I'm going to donate, that should be the end of it. But I also know that the heart of Nashville is creativity. The artists who live in and love the city are coming together to do something about this disaster, and it's pretty cool. I like supporting that.
There are other artists selling posters to support recovery, as well as musicians offering special releases to raise funds.
You know, just in case you're wondering.
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