Letter From Michiana: Not Wrigley Field
This year 70 teams, with names like Son of a Pitch, Speedy’s Chickenheads and the Ambassadors of Plastic took part.
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	This year 70 teams, with names like Son of a Pitch, Speedy’s Chickenheads and the Ambassadors of Plastic took part.
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	As I weed, I am reminded again about the extent to which nature has become a design proposition, dependent on human agency and, I hope, humility. For, when it comes to invasive species, we are the most invasive of them all.
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	Microplastics, the unnervingly sturdy specks left behind by our packaging, are circulating through the food chain. They are, in other words, inside of us — second nature indeed.
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	(I) watched the surreal spectacle of cows being milked by machines as the creatures rotated on a stainless steel lazy susan the size of a flying saucer.
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	Music like this was meant to be experienced in tight spaces, up close, where the energy is immediate and unconditional.
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	The juxtaposition of U.S. Steel and Lake Michigan invites us to contemplate the extent to which our world is designed.
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	Road conditions notwithstanding, it’s easy, on a sunny afternoon, to imagine yourself behind the wheel of an old time roadster, headed for a rendezvous in some road house where the jukebox is playing big band and blues.
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	The first time I moved to Michiana — to Michigan City, Indiana — it was 1980. Everything about that move was counter-intuitive… I was moving from northern California…a state filled with Midwestern exiles.
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	Michiana is a fascinating, complicated, exasperating, ultimately enriching place.
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