kalamazoo-river-bridge.jpg So Kalamazoo really is.  I’ve been there and done it. I even learned how the town got its name. Not surprisingly, it’s an Indian word.  Algonquin Indian, to be exact.  The term means “boiling cauldron” or swirling or something like that.  I had time to walk the mile or so

to the River this afternoon, and I saw those agitated eddies in the current that support the Indians’ name.  The River’s rippled surface reminded me somewhat of Louisiana’s Bogue Chitto River, except the Kalamazoo appears to be deeper, the water a darker color, almost black.   

While the visit has been good, these Yankee folks pleasant and agreeable, and the food tolerable (although it’s not Louisiana! ), it sure will be nice to head south.  “There’s no place like home” is hardly an empty cliché!

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