I promptly forgot my Apple ID and password the day I got my first smartphone, and so I haven’t gotten a new app in about 4 years.
Nick Meekhof (’15) graduated with a major in writing and a minor in geography. A farmer for the first twenty-three years of his life, Nick currently works for the Michigan Department of Agriculture. When he’s not traversing the state conducting orchard inspections, he can be found exploring the rivers, forests, and small towns all throughout the Great Lakes State. His current goals include kayaking one hundred Michigan rivers, swimming in Lake Michigan during every month of the year, and visiting as many Michigan breweries as possible.
by Nick Meekhof | Mar 26, 2018
Getting into the river was a comically tedious process. Everything was covered in a foot of snow, and the banks were mostly iced-over.
by Nick Meekhof | Nov 26, 2017
This is also the first time I ever took ibuprofen.
by Nick Meekhof | Jul 26, 2017
The Pine required constant vigilance and dexterity; every second taken to observe bald eagles or apply sunscreen came with a price: frantic paddling and overcorrection.
by Nick Meekhof | Jun 26, 2017
After one too many flings into the pond, rainy nights left outside, and one malicious dirt-biking incident involving my older cousin Adam, Dort looked like your typical horror movie puppet.
by Nick Meekhof | May 26, 2017
This is where I ultimately decide I could not be Amish; I simply love travel and experiences too much.
by Nick Meekhof | Apr 26, 2016
Ohio is flat. Boring. Smoggy, smelly, and snooty. The cities sprawl into oblivion; legions of rusted warehouses and oily factories transition abruptly into very flat, very linear muck farms.
by Nick Meekhof | Feb 26, 2016
Either the Brothers Grimm had a cunningly nonchalant attitude toward morbidity, or German children simply grew up with stronger stomachs in those days.
by Nick Meekhof | Dec 26, 2015
Suddenly, I heard Kevin gasp. We stumbled blindly toward his voice until echolocation led us to a vine-covered mausoleum. The script was crumbling, but the names were unmistakable.