From JuJu with Love

When I lived in Washington, D.C., I worked at a law firm for nearly a decade that felt more like a family than a workplace. These weren’t just coworkers—they were friends. The kind you traveled with, celebrated milestones with, and actually wanted to spend your weekends with.

I loved sharing my favorite things with them. The places that mattered to me. The places that made me me.

One weekend, I piled my friends Doug, Dawn, and Maria into my trusty Grand Am and we drove from D.C. to Ann Arbor. Somewhere in Ohio, while stopped at a tollbooth, the car behind us gently bumped into my rear bumper.

Before I could react, Doug—riding shotgun—shot out of the car and started screaming at the driver behind us. It took him a moment to realize two things: he wasn’t driving, and it wasn’t his car. He climbed back in as if nothing had happened while Dawn and Maria laughed uncontrollably in the backseat.

We made it to Ann Arbor and got the full Michigan experience, starting with a University of Michigan football game with me, my sister Katie, my dad, and Sharon.

We walked around campus and made sure to stop at the Diag to show them the famous block “M.” We told them the legend—that freshmen aren’t supposed to walk on it or they’ll fail their first blue book exam. Whether they believed us or not, Katie wouldn’t step on it, but Dawn, Maria and Doug were not afraid to!

After the game, we drank in my sister Katie’s college apartment with her and her roommates—crammed in, loud, and laughing. It was chaotic in the best way. One of those nights where everyone belongs, even if just for a weekend.

Another weekend, Doug and Maria and Rick and I flew to Detroit, spent a day in Bloomfield with my mom, and then headed north to Harbor Springs—my happy place.

We rented a condo in Harbor Cove, the same place where my family had a condo when I was growing up. We skied at Boyne Highlands, where Doug still reminds me that two grown men got into a fist fight while waiting in line to buy lift tickets (in their full ski gear, boots and all!)

At night, when we asked around for entertainment, someone suggested we go to the Victory’s bowling alley because they had “fine ladies.” Naturally, we went.

We spent lazy evenings back at the condo, sitting by the fire, talking, laughing, doing absolutely nothing. We ate at some of our favorite restaurants, and my sister Katie—and her boyfriend at the time, now her husband Matt—joined us for the weekend.

Looking back, those trips weren’t just about football games, ski slopes, or bowling alleys. They were about opening my world to the people who mattered to me. Letting my friends see where I came from, what I loved, and who shaped me.

Because the best memories aren’t just about places.

They’re about sharing them.

From Juju with love 💙✈️