My face must have shown my confusion when my new neighbor in suburban Detroit gave me a cooking mitt. I was grateful, of course, but a bit bewildered at what seemed like an unusual housewarming gift.
 
“It’s Michigan,” she smiled. “We’re the glove state.” Enthusiastically, she held her hand up to show that the state of Michigan has an uncanny resemblance to a gloved hand. Then she put up her other hand. “And this is the UP. You know, the Upper Peninsula. Up north?”
 
I didn’t know.