Mythical City

My gram talked of a city with large sweeping buildings, bustling with people.  She spoke of buying a Vernors at the Coney Shop by the river and shopping at the Hudson's store.  There was always a twinkle in her eye when she described this city alive with culture and arts--this Mecca of the car industry that drew in workers from all over the United Sates.  This Shangri la, if you will, is the Detroit of my Gram's time.

To me, this place is nothing more than a myth--a legend that faded long ago.  Yes, my momma and poppa also talk of a better time for the city.  My poppa grew up in the heart of Detroit and championship football for the school that was directly across the street from his house.  The way he describes the block on which her grew up conjures up mental images of a little bedroom community with neighbors who shared sugar and watched out for each other.  As beautiful as this is, my own experiences and thoughts are shockingly different.

Having been raised twenty or so odd miles from Detroit in a "small" lake community, I always had this fear that radiated through me when we would drive through the city.  I think it would start when we would hit that magic place of Gratiot or Jefferson Avenue where my mom would say, "lock the doors," and Elizabeth and I would dutifully do as we were told.  From that point, the view out of our windows would change from sprawling homes and busy community stores to business with bars on the windows and menacing looking characters who prowled the streets.  My mind was always connected to the whole Devil's Night phenomenon and how people would set fire to buildings on October 30.  In my little mind, that sounded so savage.  Come to think of it, I guess this still is savage behavior.

How can this, then, also be the city where I felt such a connection to the people as I sat directly across from the Spirit of Detroit for at least eight hours waiting for an appearance by Pope John Paul II?  At no moment did I feel afraid to be in the open, sitting on a blanket with my parents and sister.  In fact, still to this day more than twenty years later, I can almost smell the street food and hear the excitement of the people.  This was a wonderful day, and not the only one, that I had with my family in Detroit.

Now, I hear that the city--and the surrounding suburbs for that matter--have changed even more.  All of Michigan is hurting and Detroit is feeling the brunt of this.  It's becoming a relative ghost town filled with forclosure after forclosure.  This saddens me greatly because I have been silently rooting for Michigan--and Detroit for years.  My poppa says that Michigan is a good place to be from but not a good place to be at the moment and I have to agree with him.

Still, my heart is with Detroit and with all of Michigan for that matter.  It's a beautiful state and one that holds fond memories for me.  I'm hoping--no praying--that they can pull it together.  Perhaps, one day, my Gram's Detroit will exist again.  Nothing is impossible.