Migrating to Michigan (7 page)

At the far end of the lake we saw a field with some crops growing in neat rows. A crude log house sat at the edge of the lake. A man and woman were working in a small garden near the house. We walked along the field, careful not to step on any plants.

As we passed by the farm house, the professor waved at the man and woman. They waved back, then quickly returned to their work. Mister Adams liked to wave at the people, but we took him by the hand and continued our walk.

“Just a little farther,” said the professor as he looked around to make sure Mister Adams was still nearby. The professor pointed toward his nephew. Mister Adams was watching a butterfly fluttering to and fro through the wildflowers in a small clearing.

After we left the field, we came upon a well-worn path that ran east and west. The professor sat on a log, pulled out his pocketknife, and whittled on a stick. Then he started drawing in the dirt with the sharpened end. Professor Tuesday drew a quick map of where we'd been on our trip to Holland in 1849. He pointed out the big lake, the dunes, the schoolhouse, the smaller lake, the place where the men cut down the tree, the farm, and where we were now resting. I wrote some notes in my journal. Owen scribbled a few pictures in his.

“Is that all there is to see here?” I asked.

“No,” answered the professor, “I want to rest for a while along this path. Perhaps we'll meet someone.”

Just after the professor finished speaking, a man came around a bend on the trail. He was carrying a large bundle and heading toward the town of Holland.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the professor said. His Tuesday Translator changed the words into Dutch so the man could understand him. “Sit down and join us for a short rest.”

“Good afternoon,” the man said in Dutch as he lowered his bundle and took a seat on the log. He took off his cap and wiped his brow before speaking. “It is a long walk from Grand Rapids. I am glad to be near my home.”

“Looks like you purchased some supplies,” the professor said.

“Yes,” said the man, “some food items, a few small tools, and some fishing hooks.”

“How's the fishing?” Owen asked.

The man smiled. “We catch many fish. My family lives on the fish we catch and small game we hunt. Sometimes my children tell me they are tired of eating fish all the time, so I bought some vegetables for them. I also purchased some seed. This year we will grow our own vegetables.”

“Did you see any native people?” I asked.

“No,” said the man as he gathered up his bundle. “We do not see many native people here.” The man lifted his bundle and wished us a good day as he walked off.

“I think it's time we be heading back as well,” said the professor. “We have much to talk about.”

W
e followed the path back toward the village of Holland. As we walked, Owen tripped on a tree root and fell flat on his face. When he got up, his lip was bleeding and his glasses were bent. Mister Adams ran to his side and started wiping the dirt off of his shirt.

“Are you alright?” the professor asked as he rushed to Owen's side.

“He's fine,” Rachel said. “Owen falls down all the time. Like I said before, he doesn't always tie his shoes, and he's clumsy. He doesn't get good grades like I do either.”

Owen steamed as he looked at Rachel. Then she started up again. “I don't know why you're staring at me. Everything I said was true. You're always a mess, and I am always neat and tidy, just ask my mom.”

The professor made sure Owen was okay, then we continued down the path. Before long, we were back at the sand dunes. We stepped through the green cloud and tumbled back through time to the professor's office.

Professor Tuesday went down the hall and got a wet towel for Owen. As my classmate cleaned himself up, we started talking about what we had seen in early Holland, Michigan.

“Professor,” I asked, “why did Dutch people migrate to Michigan in the first place?”

“There are always many reasons why people immigrate to a new place,” said the professor. “The Dutch first came to Michigan in 1847 for religious reasons. They didn't like some of the things that were going on in their home country. They thought that if they moved to America, they could preserve their culture and their own religious beliefs. Our visit to them took place about two years after they first arrived.”

“Were they missionaries like the Germans were in Frankenmuth?” Owen asked as he wiped his face.

“Yes and no,” said the professor as he scribbled some notes on a piece of paper. “Some of their early documents and speeches told of their plans to be missionaries. But, like the Germans in Frankenmuth, they really didn't do much to spread their religion once they started their settlement.”

“The school was pretty cool,” said Owen. “They spoke both English and Dutch there.”

“Very good, my friend,” nodded Professor Tuesday, “you were paying attention.”

“He doesn't always do that in class. That's why he's always in trouble,” Rachel said.

Owen hung his head, “Nobody's perfect, not even you, Rachel.”

Professor Tuesday looked at Rachel as Miss Pepper does every once in a while, then he spoke. “Schoolhouses in those days had only one or two windows. A door was on one end of the building, and a fireplace or wood-burning stove was at the other. During the first few years of the settlement, the Dutch hired a teacher. Their children were given lessons in both English and Dutch.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Well, it seems as though the Dutch wanted to preserve their culture and language. At the same time, they wanted their children to learn English, the language of their new country.”

“I saw the children writing on little chalkboards,” Owen said. “Didn't they have paper in those days?”

“They did have paper,” answered the professor, “but it was far too expensive to be used in school. Children often practiced writing with chalk on pieces of slate. When they were done with their lessons, they would wipe the slate with a cloth or their sleeves. In some of the poorer areas of the state, children would use sticks and practice their writing in sand or dirt.”

“When we arrived, there was a big lake on the other side of the sand dunes. After we visited the school, we walked by another lake,” I said. “What were those lakes?”

“Remember the map I drew in the dirt?” asked the professor. “Well, the lake on the other side of the sand dunes from us was Lake Michigan. The smaller lake we saw was called Black Lake back then. The name was later changed to Lake Macatawa.”

The professor thought for a minute before he continued. “You may be interested in learning that the French had an influence in how some of the lakes in and around Michigan were named. The French use the word
lake
before the name of a body of water, like Lake Michigan. The Great Lakes all use the word
lake
before the name of the lake. Other lakes in the state, such as Higgins Lake, Wixom Lake, and Houghton Lake, do not because they didn't use French naming for those lakes.”

“I never knew that,” Owen said. “That's pretty cool. You know what I liked, professor? I liked seeing that tree get chopped down by those guys.”

“Just like in Frankenmuth, the Dutch had to cut down trees in order to clear farmland and build houses,” said the professor. Rachel wrote notes as the professor continued. “From what I've read, they weren't very good loggers when they first came to Michigan.”

“What do you mean?” Owen asked.

“In the Netherlands, they didn't have huge forests with tall trees like Michigan did. Cutting down trees is no easy job, and it's dangerous. Several Dutch settlers were injured very badly cutting down trees. Some were even killed.”

Owen's eyes got really big. “People were killed chopping down trees? No way!”

“Way,” answered Professor Tuesday. “Those trees were very tall and very heavy. Did you feel the ground shake when it fell?”

We nodded our heads silently.

Mister Adams gestured to the professor in sign language. The professor watched closely, then spoke, “Mister Adams wants to know what the farmers were growing in the field.”

He thought for a while, trying to remember exactly what the farm field looked like. “I think they were growing celery, but I can't be sure. Dutch farmers usually grew crops like celery and onions. The soil in the Holland area is rich with silt from the river systems, making it good for producing crops for food and trade.”

“The man we saw on the path said he bought some food, tools, and some fishing hooks,” I said. “Didn't his crops do well?”

“Not necessarily,” answered the professor. “He may have just started his farm. Some families lived in huts or shelters made from tree branches while they cleared enough land for a farm, just like in Frankenmuth and other settlements. The winters were much colder and windier in Michigan than in the Netherlands, which made life in the New World very difficult for the Dutch. They needed to trade for some items and the closest place to trade was Grand Rapids … a distance of twenty miles or more.”

“He walked all that way?” asked Owen.

“Yes, he did,” said the professor. “Most early immigrants didn't own horses, so they walked wherever they needed to go.”

Mister Adams made the sign that he was hungry.

“I am hungry, too,” said the professor. “Let's talk over lunch. I've written down some notes that you may want to include in your report. Bring your journals and pencils—this will be fun.”

I
t was a nice walk from the professor's office to the university cafeteria. It wasn't as windy as Holland or as cool as Frankenmuth. Though Rachel kept sniping at Owen, I was enjoying myself. I also enjoyed being around Mister Adams. He is one funny little dude.

My thoughts were interrupted when Owen sneezed, “AH-H-H-CHOO!” Then he said, “Excuse me.”

“Bless you,” said the professor.

“See, Professor,” Rachel said, “Owen is always tripping and sneezing and stuff.”

“I think Owen said it best,” added the professor, “nobody's perfect.” The professor rubbed Owen's head.

At the cafeteria we each took a tray. “I'm treating everyone to lunch today,” said the professor kindly. “Choose whatever you'd like as long as it is healthy.”

The cafeteria had a special island with just Mexican food. That's Owens favorite kind of food. I went to the pasta bar because I love Italian food. Rachel got some Chinese stir-fry. The professor had his usual lunch, a tuna fish sandwich cut in two and two hard-boiled eggs. Mister Adams ordered a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich on toast and a big, juicy dill pickle. Everything looked very good, and we were all hungry. As we were picking out our lunches, I thought about one of the wonderful things that immigrants have given us—different kinds of food.

We all took a seat at a table at the back of the cafeteria. The table was by a window that looked over the university campus. It was nice and quiet, perfect for having a pleasant talk.

Before Owen started eating, he said, “Thank you for lunch, Professor.”

Mister Adams said “thank you” in sign language.

“Yes, thank you,” I added. When Rachel didn't say anything, I kicked her leg under the table.

“Oh, yah, thanks Professor,” Rachel added.

“You're all very welcome.”

Before Mister Adams started to eat his sandwich, the professor took a knife and sliced his nephew's pickle. What happened next almost made Rachel and me hurl. Mister Adams took his sandwich apart and put pickle slices on top of the peanut butter and jelly.

“Is he really going to eat a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich with pickles on it?” Rachel asked as she scrunched up her face.

“Yuck,” I said.

Then Owen spoke up, “I'd be willing to give it a try.”

The professor just chuckled and said, “To each his own.”

As we munched on our food, the professor asked us questions. “What things were the same in the German and Dutch settlements we visited?”

“Well,” Owen said between bites of his taco, “both had farms and farmers.”

“That's true,” said the professor as he peeled one of his eggs. “Farming was and is an important job. Early settlers relied on farming plus fishing and hunting for their food. The Germans grew common crops that were big parts of their diets, like beets, potatoes, and cabbage. The Dutch tended to grow specialty crops that could be used for trade, like celery and onions. What immigrants couldn't make, grow, shoot, or catch, they had to get through trade or purchase.”

“That's right,” I said. “That one Dutch guy had to walk all the way to Grand Rapids and back just to pick up a few supplies. I don't think I could do that.”

The professor agreed. “There weren't grocery stores nearby like we have today, so farming was a common job for immigrants for many, many years.”

“So,” Rachel noted, “the immigrants who first came to Michigan were all farmers?”

“Not all,” said the professor. “Some were also craftsmen and shopkeepers. Opening up a new territory or a state offered plenty of opportunity for people who were willing to work hard and build a business. Though not all immigrants were successful, many were able to make a good living.”

The professor took a bite of his tuna fish sandwich and continued, “So, what other things were the same with the two communities?”

“Both of them immigrated to Michigan for religious reasons,” Rachel said smartly.

Mister Adams pointed one finger up, and another toward her, then brought them together.

“Mister Adams says you are right,” the professor noted. “Very good, Mister Adams, and very good, Rachel, you are correct. Both the Dutch and the Germans did move to Michigan for religious reasons. The Germans moved to Frankenmuth in order to be missionaries to the Chippewa Indians. The Dutch established a home in Holland, Michigan, in order to preserve their religion and culture.”