Griffin Schneider (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whatwolverines) wrote2011-01-26 12:20 am
whatwolverines) wrote2011-01-26 12:20 am
010 - One hundred seventy-four years ago
[January 26th is a day Griffin always thinks of as his 'birthday', though he's been around longer than that, by far. In fact, it doesn't take much for him to remember being very young and staring in wonder at French ships coming into the Lakes for the first time. Yet, that extremely frigid day in January has always stuck out, moreso that any memory prior. Even his territory date never compared to the day where he was the official 26th state. That's how he always remembered: "26th on the 26th".
Yet, it wasn't exactly such a festive day, for two very important reasons.
1. It was Arctic cold that day. In fact, the day his Constitution was signed as known as the 'Frostbitten Convention'.
2. He had just been pretty much humiliated by Ohio in all forms, including legally.
No, he hadn't been happy. In fact, he had been downright pissed, looking the part of an angry teenager while he was both scolded and congratulated by all the officials. A whole lot of, "Good for you, but that was such a stupid idea." It was enough to make him want to throw his arms up in the air and leave, claiming it wasn't worth it to be a state after all.
But, there was a consolation for losing the pretty much pointless Toledo War with Ohio, even if he wasn't fond of it. He was told that the land he could see north of him would be his. That whole stretch, from the hill-like mountains to the west all the way the rushing rapids of the St. Mary's River to the east. All of it was part of him, in the form of one diluted-looking stuttering child. He didn't seem to have a name, nor did he speak much. For all Griffin cared, the kid and the land was completely useless. Naturally, he wasn't made aware that the land was connected to someone else entirely (his brother, no less). No, he was too irritated to question anything. He earned a frozen wasteland in return for a strip of land that would have brought him complete control of three out of five Great Lakes (he ended up with control of four out of five Lakes in the end, and would completely deny that he ever considered the Upper Peninsula a frozen wasteland once copper was found).
Yet, the paper was signed. He was given the title of the State of Michigan. In a more jovial response, his motto was officiated as well. "Si quaeris peninsulam amoenam circumspice."
"If you seek a pleasant peninsula, look around you."
So, one hundred and seventy four years later, he finds himself not in his apartment, partying down like he would. One hundred and seventy four doesn't seem like such an awesome number, or anything profound, and thus, he's taken the time to walk out to the lake in the freezing cold, wearing a U of M hoodie and carrying a beer with him, if only to sit on a bench and stare at the closest huge body of water around. It's not quite a Great Lake like he wishes, but it's better than no lake at all. Seeing it just feels like a sort of birthday present unto itself.]
Yet, it wasn't exactly such a festive day, for two very important reasons.
1. It was Arctic cold that day. In fact, the day his Constitution was signed as known as the 'Frostbitten Convention'.
2. He had just been pretty much humiliated by Ohio in all forms, including legally.
No, he hadn't been happy. In fact, he had been downright pissed, looking the part of an angry teenager while he was both scolded and congratulated by all the officials. A whole lot of, "Good for you, but that was such a stupid idea." It was enough to make him want to throw his arms up in the air and leave, claiming it wasn't worth it to be a state after all.
But, there was a consolation for losing the pretty much pointless Toledo War with Ohio, even if he wasn't fond of it. He was told that the land he could see north of him would be his. That whole stretch, from the hill-like mountains to the west all the way the rushing rapids of the St. Mary's River to the east. All of it was part of him, in the form of one diluted-looking stuttering child. He didn't seem to have a name, nor did he speak much. For all Griffin cared, the kid and the land was completely useless. Naturally, he wasn't made aware that the land was connected to someone else entirely (his brother, no less). No, he was too irritated to question anything. He earned a frozen wasteland in return for a strip of land that would have brought him complete control of three out of five Great Lakes (he ended up with control of four out of five Lakes in the end, and would completely deny that he ever considered the Upper Peninsula a frozen wasteland once copper was found).
Yet, the paper was signed. He was given the title of the State of Michigan. In a more jovial response, his motto was officiated as well. "Si quaeris peninsulam amoenam circumspice."
"If you seek a pleasant peninsula, look around you."
So, one hundred and seventy four years later, he finds himself not in his apartment, partying down like he would. One hundred and seventy four doesn't seem like such an awesome number, or anything profound, and thus, he's taken the time to walk out to the lake in the freezing cold, wearing a U of M hoodie and carrying a beer with him, if only to sit on a bench and stare at the closest huge body of water around. It's not quite a Great Lake like he wishes, but it's better than no lake at all. Seeing it just feels like a sort of birthday present unto itself.]
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Hiya. [ ... ] Been looking for you.
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Oh, have ya?
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[]
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Anyways, I don't think you're a loser, Griffin. [ ... ] Well, you know, except at football most of the time.
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I still have more titles 'n you. Gotta say tha's a start.
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[ she scuffs the heel of her shoes against the pavement. ] So... chocolate layer cake or vanilla?
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Umm...Happy Birthday, Griffin.
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[]
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He probably wouldn't have much words. As always when he opened his mouth, he was terrible with wording things. So Gabe just stands there holding the box, nudging him with it. Come on Griff, notice him?
When Griff opens it, it's a box of cheese with some Leinenkugel's Big Eddy Russian Imperial Stout (http://i.imgur.com/WWtZJ.jpg). With of course, at the bottom a Detroit Red Wings Sweatshirt. (Largest he could find, of course.) ]
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Aw Gabe, ya shouldn've. [] An' my size, too! Ya gotta be psychic.
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Don't say anything stupid, or you're going to hurt his feelings and look like a -- ] I just got the biggest one.
[ -- dumbass. ]