Something About Mary | Overnight at Sweetwaters

http://youtu.be/F_g0hu3dg1Y

The Finishers: Overnight at Sweetwater's Donut Mill | Rough Draft

     A single bell chimes, reverberating through the empty shop. Ceramic coffee mugs, 30th anniversary travel thermoses and plush bears with dopey faces look down from their perches, sitting high above the glistening glazed donuts. 

     At 3:12am, a magenta truck pulls up to the drive-thru.  His face obscured by shadow, a forty-something wearing a trucker hat nudges his scruffy chin out the window, his voice full of sleep. 

     “Gimme two Bostons.”

     Mary Schwarts knows this regular. He’s part of the night-time crowd, the ones just ending their days closer to dawn than dusk. Three or four times a week she works the night shift, 10am-6am, filling 170 dozen boxes of donuts for the morning pick-up, re-stocking over fifty flavors all while working the counter and the drive-thru. She’s gotten good at it after working at eight different donut places, but she says Sweetwater’s is the best of them all. 

     She climbs a salmon-colored step-stool covered in crumbs—donut carnage—and reaches for the Boston creams on the top shelf. 

     “Hey hon, I’m sorry” truck man said, “I forgot my wallet. Gonna go.”

     Mary doesn’t hesitate. She stuffs the donuts into a single waxy bag. 

     “You can pay tomorrow. We know you’re good for it.” 

     Sweetwater’s Donut Mill opened in Kalamazoo in 1983 on Stadium drive and quickly added two additional locations over the next six years. They’re known for their classic treats, both yeast and cake varieties, but they also have famous apple fritters, Piña Colada muffins, a pistachio muffin that looks like the Hulk is bursting forth from it’s neon-batter insides, cherry cordials and hundreds of donut holes. While their local ingredient, all-from scratch recipes attract the masses, their 24 hour service keeps the place breathing while the rest of the city sleeps. 

     During the day, the donut mill fills with flocks of hungry visitors.  But overnight, a select group makes their way to the haven of fried goods and cheap coffee.  Late night custodial workers, truckers, pizza and Jimmy Johns delivery guys, pregnant women, Western Michigan University and Kalamazoo College students, high kids from Menna’s next door and regulars who come in every night for a quick chat and a long-john mill in and out, and Mary knows all of them. 

     “I don’t know why, but I know when to say good morning to someone and good night to another person. You learn how to read people.”

     At 2:12am, a guy walks in wearing a “You Mad, Bro?” T-shirt, camo shorts and a Detroit Tigers hat, followed by a larger guy with a buzz cut and baggy jeans and a sweatshirt that says “Roll me a fatty” on the small of his back.  The first orders a grasshopper, a new flavor, neon-mint colored and flavored frosting with a coating of chocolate chips and chocolate drizzle atop a chocolate cake donut. The second, two sugar raised. 

     They sit on the park bench seats next to the windows for a second before deciding to take the donuts to go. 

     Mary wipes her hands on the front of her Sweetwater’s Western shirt. She got it as a gift last year from the shop so that she could promote both the University and the donut mill.  She tucks her dark hair back into a bun with a thick black head-band keeping her bangs back.  Her shimmery purple eye shadow glimmers like the four diamond studs on her ears. The thick stitching on her jeans matches the powdered sugar donuts. 

     “I’ve been wanting to try this one.”

     Mary grabs a raspberry jelly frosted with white fluff, rips it in half and bites into the filling. 

     “It’s just okay,” she said, taking one small second bite from the cake before throwing both halves in the trash.  

     Mary says working alone at night gets exhausting. Between 10pm and 6am she’s the only one working the front of the house. There are usually two or three people working in the back, a cleaner and a fryer.  The finishers, the ones who glaze, frost, sprinkle and stuff the donuts don’t get in until later, around fiver or six in the morning. 

     She also works at Tim Hortons and attends Western as a full-time student studying to be a teacher in Family and Consumer Science—the updated version of Home Economics.  Her favorite donut had been the chocolate cloud, a yeast donut filled with white fluff and a chocolate glaze, but has recently been replaced by the s’more, a chocolate cake donut topped with marshmallow fluff and a graham cracker sprinkle. 

Ron, the cleaning guy wears a weight bearing belt to help his crooked back. His handle bar mustache and pony-tail dangle over the sink. He’s pissed someone left mop water in the back and yells something to Mary, but she just shrugs. 

“Everyone is really great, but midnights bring out a lot of creeps.” 

Mary usually feels safe, and emphasizes that she’s never felt vulnerable at the store, but sometimes she feels uncomfortable.  

“This one guy, I think he watches girls on his computer while he’s in here, but I’m not sure.  People are nice but they leave and you’re like holy crap, this guy could abduct me.”

     Mary doesn’t want to talk about it, but she does think the sexual attention she gets in the store gets really old.  A customer who comes in playing with an orange lanyard asks her teasingly  if she likes bananas.  She has a consistent defense, a quick eye roll and then asks if they’d like coffee. 

     “I take advantage of being the only girl so much.”

     Ron comes back out from the back. No one has entered the store for awhile, but the door chime still hums slightly. Ron walks over to the sink next to the ‘90s cappuccino machine. 

     “Whatcha doing? Washing your hands?”

     Ron shrugs and dries his hands on a brown paper towel. 

     “We don’t do that kind of thing here” Mary said before turning around to refill the buttermilks. 

     “But I’m kidding of course.”

Word Count: 1016

Intended Publication: Second Waves or a Kalamazoo branch of Maggie Kane's overnight radio series. 

Show and Tell | Story Corps, Dawn Maestas

For my show and tell, I knew I wanted to share something from Story Corps. I've been following Story Corps for awhile now since I first heard one of their stories broadcasted on NPR.  Their tagline is "every voice matters" and the subhead on their NPR page is "sharing and preserving the stories of our lives." Sometimes the stories highlighted are stunning, heart-shifting narratives. Other times I get bored. But for the most part I'm a huge fan of the organization's work both as a non-profit and as talented, thoughtful story-tellers.

StoryCorps is an independent nonprofit organization whose mission is to provide Americans of all backgrounds and beliefs with the opportunity to record, share, and preserve the stories of our lives.

Dawn Maestas

The story I've chosen is one I heard recently over the radio. The article, "Tattoo Removal Artist Helps Clients With Emotional Scars" was written collaboratively, which aligns with the organization's mission. I think this accountability is what attracts me most to StoryCorps stories—not all of the pieces are social-justice-y, but their mission is clear and widely noted:
We do this to remind one another of our shared humanity, strengthen and build the connections between people, teach the value of listening, and weave into the fabric of our culture the understanding that every life matters.
This, to me, is both cheesy and essential. It makes it easier to see the 'why' in the profiles we just wrote, and why I like some of the pieces more than others. The StoryCorps works that don't fully incorporate that 'why' are the ones that bore me, but this piece about Dawn Maestas, a tattoo removal specialist and survivor of domestic abuse removes tattoos for women who have been forcibly tattooed or who's tattoos reference or remind them of their abusers. It's much shorter than many of the pieces we've read or even the one's StoryCorps normally produces, but I also thought that was a fun test, to see if this fits in the realm of 'narrative' pieces. 

The Events of October | Reading Response

In chapter seven, "Hold Fast," the first chapter after the murder-suicide takes place, Gail enters the story as a character, listening to President Jimmy Jones speak to the campus, choosing to discuss gun-control as a cause of the act, instead of violence against women. Here, Gail's authority wields the story, as she retrospects, and stated "At this moment the struggle began over how this story would be told" (139).  She's speaking of how Neenef would be seen as a murderer, as a loner, a 'foreigner,' as someone who had gone mad—Maggie, his victim. How the media would construe a story that was easier to tell.  How the media—we, journalists—have the opportunity and the obligation to tell a story the way we believe it should be told.

This was a very tough read for me.  For the past four years, I've harbored some shame for not having read 'the book.'  I remember my first year seminar, barely four weeks into the quarter, walking from Trowbridge to Humphrey House for Di Seuss' Spread the Word: Poetry in Community class. I think I accidentally went to the community reflection. Maybe a friend asked me to go or I was just meandering around, wasting time before my 11:50.  But I remember one of my new seminar friends crying in one of the back pews, weeping over the story of Maggie Wardle and Neenef Odah, and I remember feeling selfish for crying for myself.  At that point I had very little knowledge about violence against women, and what I had learned seemed very external, detached from my own experience.

Four years later, this past October, I attended Gail's talk for the third and last time. I missed her second to last talk my junior year when I was abroad during the fall. As a senior, it's frightening, sickening, for me to realize how different my views on violence against women, particularly within the context of our campus have changed, knowing now how my friends, my family and I personally have been affected.

I'm interested to hear how others interpreted this text. I had to take countless reading breaks. My housemates have been worried about me the past couple days as I've churned through the book. I regret not reading it slowly, but the way Gail has crafted the text, I think she meant for it to pile up, for everything to get compounded so that you can't stop until you've finished.

A quote on page 117 stuck with me throughout the reading, that I had to keep referencing back to in order to remind myself of why we're reading such a difficult, grievous text.

"In many ways, the story of this night is about what the mind cannot grasp. Memory is a trickster in any case; in such a case as this, memory shattered by trauma struggles to piece together a logical story and often comes up with conflicting narratives." 

I think reading this text, written by a professor I know, which takes place at my home, with characters who I still interact with and seeing letters from the president, just like the ones we receive weekly from WO today was a strong lesson in place. As I read the book, I realized the magnitude of Gail's investigation, how many people she must have spoken with, how many hours she must have spent reading IM messages, campus emails, talking to grieving parents. Writing our profiles felt like a lot of work. Taking on a project like Gail seemed unfathomable, and I'm sure it took an amazing toll on her as a writer, a professor and a person within the K community, but seeing how she crafted these narratives makes it much clearer to me why this type of writing in necessary and creates a space for movement and change.

Alison Wonderland | Second Profile Review

Hey all. Disclaimer: This is a very minimally revised piece. My interviewee was unable to meet this weekend and only performs on Wednesdays (perf DOGL timing) so I will have a more updated piece with snippets about Alison performing as well as bits from her regulars/customers/fellow staff. The heft of what I’ve updated is her physical appearance early on and scattered throughout the piece, plus a few images. Happy DOGL!

      Alison Cole needs a kazoo.  This Wednesday at the Old Dog Tavern in Kalamazoo Michigan, Alison plans to sing and play a solo to Hall & Oats' hit "I Can't Go for That (No Can Do)."

     Her old kazoo went missing and she’s hoping to buy a new one, preferably one that says “There really is a Kalamazoo.”  She considered where she could find one downtown while eating a tempura shrimp roll with crab on top from D&W.  She mixed a heaping soup spoon full of wasabi into her gluten-free soy sauce until it turned the color of March sludge grass. She lit incense on her counter. Her rainbow striped dress which shows off the rainbow butterfly tattoo on her left breast smells like nag champa. 

Alison in her Oakwood neighborhood kitchen

     "I'll have the song down by this week, no problem."

     When her weekly shift starts at the Tavern, Alison passes out a song list with over 300 options she knows by heart. No lyrics, no back-up music, just her and a wireless microphone.

     In 2001, Alison opened her singing bartender act at Francois' Seafood & Steak House in Kalmazoo. She quickly gained a loyal following singing through a self-operated mic-pack while working both behind the bar and across the restaurant floor. She makes drinks, gets change, writes your order and brings your food all while singing a song requested by the diners. 

     “I even play instruments back there too. Harmonica, tambourine, shaker. Sort of like a human jukebox.  I can actually write words while I’m singing in front of a crowd. I’m singing “Walking After Midnight” and trying to write down chicken pizza. You know? By the end of the first night I had it down. I have this amazing ability to absorb information. I didn’t even know it was a gift. But I probably know lyrics to a thousand songs.” 

     Several years after opening her act, Alison was let go when Francois’s wife didn’t allow her to claim her tips from credit cards that hadn’t been punched into the machine. 

     “It was so retarded because I was the best employee. I was the manager on duty, waiting on everybody—servers would stand in the back and talk to each other while I was busting my ass and singing at the same time” she said. “It was two days before Christmas and I just told her I thought it was wrong. And she said ‘I have to make an example out of you.’ And I said ‘well, I don’t think so.’”

The Old Dog Tavern                                 Source: OldDogTavern.com

     The next Wednesday when she would have been singing at Francois’, Alison had a new gig at Nick’s. The place was packed and Francois was empty. Later she went on to Louie’s, then The Strutt and now she has arrived at Old Dog and has been singing under the giant hanging canoe, stuffed moose head and taxidermied weasels for a year and a half. 

     When the Strutt closed, Alison was sought out by the owner of Old Dog Tavern. Her fans still followed, including her favorite groupie, Mustang Sally, an 87 year-old who woman who sometimes sings along with Alison and accidentally went to Woodstock and hated it. 

     “It was a natural progression. I’m even singing the same time, same night. Didn’t screw anything up with the regulars. They were like ‘Okay, next week we’ll be over at Old Dog.”

     As the only singing bartender on the Westside of Michigan, Alison has found some resistance to her schtick, especially among her fellow bartenders. 

     “I’ve had girls be really snotty to me and they don’t want to accept me behind the bar. It’s real territorial behind the bar. Most bartenders are that way. But they always kind of fail to figure out that I was bringing in so much business.” 

     When working at the bar, Alison would split tips with the other waitresses. A fellow bartender who had bullied her apologized years later. After Alison quit, she made $30 on a good night when should would have been making $200 during her act. 

     “I’m a pretty damn good bartender. I’ve bartended for 23 years. But I’ve been singing my whole life.”

     Alison’s childhood was jammed with music.  On their first date, her mother and father went to see the Beatles in 1964. They were 14.  

     “My mom said people were going ape-shit. She would have too but she didn’t want to look silly in front of my dad.”

     The window seat in Alison’s living room is brimming with old and new vinyl records, including The Beatles, all in their original cases, siting next to her mother’s old record player. 

Alison's vinyl collection

      “My mom would listen to record players when I was a kid. I’d watch Annie, and I wanted to be Annie. And the Wizard of Oz was the first song I ever sang, ‘Over the Rainbow.’ And I just wanted to be her, them.”

      She got her stage name, Alison Wonderland, after she split from her band “Two Peas and a Blonde.” After she divorced from her husband and dyed her hair brown, she couldn’t keep the old name. 

      “I picked that name because when I was a little girl my mom and dad took me to go see Alice in Wonderland, and I thought it was two words—I couldn’t read yet. And so I thought her name was Alison Wonderland. I’m not sure if it totally fits who I am now but it did at the time.” 

      Alison doesn’t think she has any problems in her life. She believes her purpose, more than anything, is to spread joy across the planet, bartending and singing, teaching pilates Monday through Friday and doing good around Kalamazoo. 

      “I’ve been thinking more about how am I to people, how do I treat people. I feel like we focus too much on jobs. ‘Cause I don’t have a lot of money and I don’t have insurance and I’m raising two teenagers.”

      But Alison feels like eventually it will pay off. 

      “I’m being my authentic self. I’m doing what I love instead of something that I feel obligated to do. And I can do it with a lot of joy and it’s just, I don’t think I have any idea of how being that ripple effect for people comes back to you. It comes back to me in beautiful ways.”

      Because of Alison’s desire to spread joy, she has found karma in abundance, from free passes to her favorite shows, being asked to emcee festivals, free beer, free food, a plus one. She puts together random acts of kindness from wiping snow off of a strangers car at the gas station to writing letters on Valentine’s Day and sticking them under windshield wipers. 

      “It comes in a bunch of different ways, the abundance. Like parking places. I always get front parking places. And I feel like that’s a reward from the universe.”
     

Alison's stolen wildflowers

The fresh cut wildflowers on her kitchen came from along her neighbors' wire fence. 

      Before settling down in Kalamazoo and becoming a figure in the bar-scene, Alison wanted to move to L.A. and become a famous singer. But at 25, things shifted.  During the summer Alison worked with her future husband on Mackinaw Island at Mission Point, a college that only lasted for four years. 

      “He was totally cute and fun. And then I got pregnant. It happened quick.”

      “He was like ‘Oh shit. I have to get it together. I have to have a family. I have to make money. And that was it. He just went off into corporate America and wanted to achieve. He wrapped his self worth in achieving and he made money his goal.” 

     After twelve years of marriage, bartending was Alison’s first real step away from her ex-husband and the kids. 

      “I stayed because I thought a house at the end of the cul-de-sac with a mini-van, with two adorable children and cable T.V. made you the American dream. And I literally thought if this is the American dream, it is a nightmare for me, and someone needs to wake me up. This is not what I bargained for. I am frickin’ miserable. And then when I chose me, everything just unfolded.” 

     Now Alison has lived alone for the past five years, sharing custody with her ex-husband. 

      “I would say every single part of my life is evolving and changing and growing and abundant and full of wealth and happiness and joy. That one piece of him—he’s my biggest teacher. And not the kind of teacher that you love. We’re talking patience and forgiveness and detachment. I get so angry at him. It’s a terrible out of control feeling. But I’m trying to get better at it. He’s my kids’ dad. What’re ya gonna do? Murder him? No. I don’t want to go to jail. Got too much important shit to do. Can’t be screwing around with him. Can’t let him fuck up my life that way. No one has the power to control your life but you. I actually prayed for him today. For him to be happy. To love himself.”

       Over a decade later, Alison realizes she put her life on hold for her husband, except for raising the kids. But her lack of degree and experience didn’t stop her. She believes she created her own happiness. 

Alison showing off her cigarette girl routine

      “My friends who are working in corporations hate it. They’re fat. They don’t take care of themselves. They don’t have any time to enjoy their kids, to enjoy their life. And they wouldn’t even consider doing anything for themselves. Because that’s too indulgent. They’re doing laundry. Like hell no. I will have five jobs and make it work in my life so that I can still be with my kids and my friends and be happy now.”

       People in Kalamazoo feel Alison’s positive vibe. Some have even suggested she run for Mayor someday. 

       “The truth of the matter is I’m not exactly sure if I want to be the mayor of Kalamazoo but maybe I should just say, the Kalamazoo Ambassador. I like that title better so that I don’t have to know about politics or any of that crap.”

Word Count: 1696

Intended Publication: MLive or Kalamazoo Gazette

Profile Writing Reflection

First off, hey classmates. I am so sorry I posted my article so late. Really, very unfair & disrespectful to all of my workshop group. I apologize.

This piece was rough for me, but ended up feeling okay about the draft. It was hard after weeks of writing and re-writing our personal pieces to have to rely on someone else for an interview.  My first two options weren't working out, and I was flustered about where to go when everything was falling through.

Interviewing Alison was a really good decision though. I met her three years ago and we haven't kept contact other than the rare occasion I'll see her at a concert at Bell's or an art hop.  But I knew she'd be a good interview because of her eagerness to share her stories, she is a story teller, and her way of speaking felt so natural, I knew capturing her voice and inflections would be a fun challenge.

I don't know if the story has enough heft. I think she's interesting, and she has faults and struggles, but not sure if that's enough? I'm interested to know what people think.

In writing the piece, transcribing was the most difficult part for me. I can't remember anything. I have the worst memory, so I had go through the whole interview slowly. And Alison's interview lasted 2.5 hours, so it was dense with lots of anecdotes.  Writing my piece so late, I didn't feel like I had time to get into the narrative aspect of the piece—oops, that's the point, right?—and relied on her quotes because they were so strong, the ones I paraphrased may have even been stronger in her words.

I think that's going to be my biggest critique and edits: how do I push this into a more narrative piece? And how do I choose whether to put myself in the work? I wanted to write about finding her at her house stealing flowers from the neighbors garden and how she showed me her tattoo of a panda on her boob on facebook but I couldn't wrap my head around whether that would add or if those were just moments that spoke to me and detracted from the profile.

Alison Wonderland | Narrative Profile

      Alison Cole needs a kazoo.  This Wednesday at the Old Dog Tavern in Kalamazoo Michigan, Alison plans to sing and play a solo to Hall & Oats' hit "I Can't Go for That (No Can Do)."

     Her old kazoo went missing and she’s hoping to buy a new one, preferably one that says “There really is a Kalamazoo.”  She considered where she could find one downtown while eating a tempura shrimp roll with crab on top from D&W.  She mixed a heaping soup spoon full of wasabi into her gluten-free soy sauce until it turns the color of March sludge grass. She lit an incense on her counter and her rainbow striped dress which shows off her rainbow butterfly tattoo on her left breast smells like nag champa. 

     "I'll have the song down by this week, no problem."

     When her weekly shift starts at the Tavern, Alison passes out a song list with over 300 options she knows by heart. No lyrics, no back-up music, just her and a wireless microphone.

     In 2001, Alison opened her singing bartender act at Francois' Seafood & Steak House in Kalmazoo. She quickly gained a loyal following singing through a self-operated mic-pack while working both behind the bar and across the restaurant floor. She makes drinks, gets change, writes your order and brings your food all while singing a song requested by the diners. 

     “I even play instruments back there too. Harmonica, tambourine, shaker. Sort of like a human jukebox.  I can actually write words while I’m singing in front of a crowd. I’m singing “Walking After Midnight” and trying to write down chicken pizza. You know? By the end of the first night I had it down. I have this amazing ability to absorb information. I didn’t even know it was a gift. But I probably know lyrics to a thousand songs.” 

     Several years after opening her act, Alison was let go when Francois’s wife didn’t allow her to claim her tips from credit cards that hadn’t been punched into the machine. 

     “It was so retarded because I was the best employee. I was the manager on duty, waiting on everybody—servers would stand in the back and talk to each other while I was busting my ass and singing at the same time” she said. “It was two days before Christmas and I just told her I thought it was wrong. And she said ‘I have to make an example out of you.’ And I said ‘well, I don’t think so.’”

     The next Wednesday when she would have been singing at Francois’, Alison had a new gig at Nick’s. The place was packed and Francois was empty. Later she went on to Louie’s, then The Strutt and now she has arrived at Old Dog and has been singing under the giant hanging canoe, stuffed moose head and taxidermied weasels for a year and a half. 

     When the Strutt closed, Alison was sought out by the owner of Old Dog Tavern. Her fans still followed, including her favorite groupie, Mustang Sally, an 87 year-old who woman who sometimes sings along with Alison and accidentally went to Woodstock and hated it. 

     “It was a natural progression. I’m even singing the same time, same night. Didn’t screw anything up with the regulars. They were like ‘Okay, next week we’ll be over at Old Dog.”

     As the only singing bartender on the Westside of Michigan, Alison has found some resistance to her schtick, especially among her fellow bartenders. 

     “I’ve had girls be really snotty to me and they don’t want to accept me behind the bar. It’s real territorial behind the bar. Most bartenders are that way. But they always kind of fail to figure out that I was bringing in so much business.” 

     When working at the bar, Alison would split tips with the other waitresses. A fellow bartender who had bullied her apologized years later, siting that after Alison quit, she made $30 on a good night when should would have been making $200 during her act. 

     “I’m a pretty damn good bartender. I’ve bartended for 23 years. But I’ve been singing my whole life.”

     Alison’s childhood was jammed with music.  On their first date, her mother and father went to see the Beatles in 1964. They were 14.  

     “My mom said people were going ape-shit. She would have too but she didn’t want to look silly in front of my dad.”

     The window seat in Alison’s living room is brimming with old and new records, including The Beatles, all in their original cases, siting next to her mother’s old record player. 

      “My mom used to listen to record players when I was a kid on vinyl. I’d watch Annie, and I wanted to be Annie. And the Wizard of Oz was the first song I ever sang, ‘Over the Rainbow.’ And I just wanted to be her, them.”

      She got her stage name, Alison Wonderland, after she split from her band “Two Peas and a Blonde.” After she divorced from her husband and died her hair brown, she couldn’t keep the old name. 

      “I picked that name because when I was a little girl my mom and dad took me to go see Alice in Wonderland, and I thought it was two words—I couldn’t read yet. And so I thought her name was Alison Wonderland. I’m not sure if it totally fits who I am now but it did at the time.” 

      Alison doesn’t think she has any problems in her life. She believes her purpose, more than anything, is to spread joy across the planet, bartending and singing, teaching pilates Monday through Friday and doing good around Kalamazoo. 

      “I’ve been thinking more about how am I to people, how do I treat people. I feel like we focus too much on jobs. ‘Cause I don’t have a lot of money and I don’t have insurance and I’m raising two teenagers.”

      But Alison feels like eventually it will pay off. 

      “I’m being my authentic self. I’m doing what I love instead of something that I feel obligated to do. And I can do it with a lot of joy and it’s just, I don’t think I have any idea of how being that ripple effect for people comes back to you. It comes back to me in beautiful ways.”

      Because of Alison’s desire spread joy, she has found karma in abundance, from free passes to her favorite shows, being asked to emcee festivals, free beer, free food, a plus one. She puts together random acts of kindness from wiping snow off of a strangers car at the gas station to writing letters on Valentine’s Day and sticking them under windshield wipers. 

      “It comes in a bunch of different ways, the abundance. Like parking places. I always get front parking places. And I feel like that’s a reward from the universe.”

      Before settling down in Kalamazoo and becoming a figure in the bar-scene, Alison wanted to move to L.A. and become a famous singer. But at 25, things shifted.  During the summer Alison worked with her future husband on Mackinaw Island at Mission Point, a college that only lasted for four years. 

      “He was totally cute and fun. And then I got pregnant. It happened quick.”

      “He was like ‘Oh shit. I have to get it together. I have to have a family. I have to make money. And that was it. He just went off into corporate America and wanted to achieve. He wrapped his self worth in achieving and he made money his goal.” 

     After twelve years of marriage, bartending was Alison’s first real step away from her ex-husband and the kids. 

      “I stayed because I thought a house at the end of the cul-de-sac with a mini-van, with two adorable children and cable T.V. made you the American dream. And I literally thought if this is the American dream, it is a nightmare for me, and someone needs to wake me up. This is not what I bargained for. I am frickin’ miserable. And then when I chose me, everything just unfolded.” 

     Now Alison has lived alone for the past five years, sharing custody with her ex-husband. 

      “I would say every single part of my life is evolving and changing and growing and abundant and full of wealth and happiness and joy. That one piece of him—he’s my biggest teacher. And not the kind of teacher that you love. We’re talking patience and forgiveness and detachment. I get so angry at him. It’s a terrible out of control feeling. But I’m trying to get better at it. He’s my kids’ dad. What’re ya gonna do? Murder him? No. I don’t want to go to jail. Got too much important shit to do. Can’t be screwing around with him. Can’t let him fuck up my life that way. No one has the power to control your life but you. I actually prayed for him today. For him to be happy. To love himself.”

       Over a decade later, Alison realizes she put her life on hold for her husband, except for raising the kids. But her lack of degree and experience didn’t stop her. She believes she created her own happiness. 

      “My friends who are woking in corporations hate it. They’re fat. They don’t take care of themselves. They don’t have any time to enjoy their kids, to enjoy their life. And they wouldn’t even consider doing anything for themselves. Because that’s too indulgent. They’re doing laundry. Like hell no. I will have five jobs and make it work in my life so that I can still be with my kids and my friends and be happy now.”

       People in Kalamazoo feel Alison’s positive vibe. Some have even suggested she run for Mayor someday. 

       “The truth of the matter is I’m not exactly sure if I want to be the mayor of Kalamazoo but maybe I should just say, the Kalamazoo Ambassador. I like that title better so that I don’t have to know about politics or any of that crap.”

Word Count: 1696
Intended Publication: MLive or Kalamazoo Gazette