It's getting to the point in the year, when I take a little time off from Weeknotes. I'll keep up the practice as long as I can find the time, but expect a few gaps and some miscellaneous content over the next month or two. -TM
Monday, November 9
I wake with the stiff limbs and next-day aches of a long distance runner. Yesterday morning, I ran a brisk half marathon along the coast of Michigan's Thumb, from Sleeper State Park to downtown Port Austin. Despite the fatigue of the week leading up to it, I made a solid effort and placed fourth in my age group. I'm not very competitive, but it's nice to know I can still turn it on when I want to.
Just as satisfying was the drive up. The Thumb in late autumn is a stark contrast of agricultural bustle and offseason melancholy. I put on some wistful fiddle music and vibed out to the brown fields and liminal post-Halloween/pre-Christmas atmosphere. The sugar beet harvest was in full swing; at every intersection, huge semi trucks hauling loads of root crop rumbled toward the behemoth sugar refinery in Sebewaing. Occasionally, a castaway beet rolled along the shoulder of the road.
As I approached the lakeshore, the highway segued into a different beauty of beachside cottages and seasonal businesses bearing signs like “Thanks for a great summer” and “See you next year!”
Back home in Ypsilanti, I dragnet my backyard for dog poop so I can mow the lawn one more time. In the distance, the EMU marching band rehearses Queen’s “Bicycle,” turning my task into a comedy.
Tuesday, November 10
As a kid growing up in the Great Lakes, everyone knew about the Edmund Fitzgerald, thanks in part to Gordon Lightfoot's 1976 ballad. When my band started writing regionally-inspired music in the early 2000s, we steered clear of “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” despite occasional requests. I love the song, and but covering it would have been too on the nose.
In the three years since Lightfoot's death, his signature song has become heavily memed across social media. I enjoyed this humdinger on Threads: “Don't forget to leave a load of iron ore out for Gordon Lightfoot tonight.”
There is also more interest in the shipwreck itself, making November 10 something of a regional Great Lakes holiday. My friend Jesse—whose parents were married at the Mariners’ Church mentioned in the song—wrote a nice piece about it last year on her blog, commemorating the 50th anniversary of its sinking. Over the summer, I read John U. Bacon's book, The Gales of November, ahead of a camping trip at Whitefish Bay, then toured the Soo Locks, through which the Fitz passed many times.
Tonight, I'm playing a song at a Veterans For Peace benefit, though it won't be “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.”
Wednesday, November 11
It's Veterans Day (thanks for your service, Dad). Technically, I have the day off work, though I devote a couple hours to organizing “Best of 2026” spreadsheets for our annual year-end music review.
In the afternoon I make the 90-minute round trip to Ferndale to pick up my newly restored Ampeg Reverberocket. Shoutout to amp champ Tom Currie, whose TLC helped mend decades of abuse. While driving home, I think about my amp's peak years rattling around in cold vans on winter tours, getting frozen, thawed out, and dinged, enduring spills. It hasn't been this healthy since I bought it in 1998.
Thursday, November 12
The screens have been removed and the windows cleaned—one of my favorite seasonal acts. Bring on the sharp winter sunlight!
At 8 p.m., at the end of a long day, I pour a Bell's Christmas Ale and a small scotch and listen to Marianne Faithful's Broken English, a recent discovery. Islay lays on the rug working on a treat, and Esteban gives a little chirp, then tucks himself against my hip. How can anyone live without pets?
Friday, November 13
Welp, I'm sick. The specter of a head cold which has lurked just over my shoulder for the past two weeks finally speaks up. “It's time,” he says. Break out the Kleenex, ginger ale, and zinc.