Stu's email address is stumail@earthlink.net.

 

This winter, I find myself once again in Los Angeles performing stand-up comedy and writing sitcom scripts. As I move through my daily tasks and errands I enjoy the anonymity that a city of 10 million people affords me. I can go the entire day, going to the post office, the grocery store, drive down the street, etc. and not see anyone I know. I can get in my own little world--and believe me, it is little--and run down my checklist of what I need to accomplish and not be interrupted by other humans, accept for the occasional small talk with a cashier, panhandler, waiter or an out-of-work actor, all of whom could be the same person in this town.

As a newcomer to Mackinac Island, the anonymity is the same way. But unless you toil at your job, then return to your hole, nibble away at cheddar chips and watch the Teletubbies in your spare time, you rapidly lose your anonymity. Soon you can't even get your mail at the post office without running into a dozen people you know and, want to and have to exchange pleasantries. Yes have to. It's a small Island and the rumor mill gets going fast, if you don't partake in the ritual.

Let's say for instance, you are riding down the street on your bike (not an uncommon scene) and someone calls out your name and says, "Hi." Well unless you give them a moment of your undivided attention and return the greeting with full sincerity, maybe even stop to chat, you run the risk of violating ancient unwritten Island etiquette.

Then the next day you run into Emmet at the hardware and he says "Hey Stu, Virgil says he said, 'Hi' to you yesterday you just nodded. What's up with that? You too good to say, 'Hi' or just running a fever? ..."

Well nothing's up with that, I was just focusing my thoughts on something else, once again in my little world, and I didn't come out of it all the way to say, "Hi" or better yet engage in a 45 minute conversation on the price of beer at Doud's Mercantile.

Now don't get me wrong. This is one of the beauties of Mackinac and small-town America in general: Not expensive beer, but actually knowing your neighbor and small talking in line at the grocery store, the post office or as you crash your bike into a three-horse hitch. It is something to be cherished and savored. I truly enjoy it.

If you spend anytime on Mackinac, you learn the rules of engagement: Always say, "Hi" or, "How are you?" If you are far away, perhaps out of earshot, a nod, wave or wink will do. It doesn't matter if you've already seen this person seven times in the same day.

If the person you encounter has been drinking, it is better to just say, "Hi" than ask, "How are you?, otherwise you open up a box of fudge and may have to hear their life story at close range, bad breath, exaggerations, digressions and all. And if you do make the mistake of asking how someone is doing, you are obligated to hear the entire story. From the time they didn't get a G.I. Joe for Christmas in 1974, to the day "Speed Racer" was cancelled, to the time they discovered dental floss (earlier this morning). You just can't bail and say, "Gee look at the time..."

The one acceptable excuse to end this type of diatribe, however, is "Hey, look I'm sure this is a very interesting story and you are a very fascinating person with many redeemable qualities not the least of which is your discovery of dental floss, but I have to catch a ferry." No offense will be taken and you will be free to go.

Each summer as I am magnetically drawn back to the Island like a homing pigeon on espresso, I make the transition back to small-town-talk-with-everyone-you-see mode. It takes me a few weeks. So if I seem short, distracted or moving way too fast for life on Mackinac, cut me some slack. I'll adjust and come around to Mackinac time and be ready to hear your life story and enjoy it, too. Now, if I can just remember that guy's name...