Simple Summer Pleasures

I just finished officiating the last of a heap of summer weddings and now we are in a mad dash to finish at least ONE room before a big family party this weekend. This is my way of saying I'm too tired and fuzzy-headed to write much right now. So instead I thought I'd share some recent pictures from our summer afternoon in Detroit. I was so excited to see how many people were packed onto Belle Isle and the Riverwalk that day!

Easter Weekend - Part 1

Saturday morning was one of those mornings. You know, the kind where it's physically painful to peel your eyelids open and you keep coming up with seemingly logical reasons why you should continue to hit the snooze button. Until you finally come to and realize that not only are you now late, but those "logical" reasons for sleeping were actually jibberish.

Our best intentions were to arrive at the Georgia Street Community Garden's Easter event an hour early so I could get some quality volunteer work in. Unfortunately, by the time we dragged two equally sleepy and stubborn children out of bed, got them dressed and sunscreened, and drove the hour to Detroit, that hour was long shot.



Luckily we at least arrived in time for the event, which was an egg hunt followed by breakfast and entertainment. Their version of a small child's egg hunt was brilliant - scatter eggs in an open field and let them go at it. Emerson, still sleepy and grumpy, was clearly wondering why the hell we were making him stand in the cold and pick up plastic eggs. After a couple of demonstrations, he dutifully placed two eggs into his basket, declared "all done" and climbed back into Robbie's arms.



The organizers did a great job arranging gift bags for all the kids along with eggs full of candy, so even a handful of eggs was more than enough for him. He protested when we sat him down to inspect his haul, but then I bit into a jelly bean and put it in his mouth. It was like a drug addict getting his first hit.

"Mmmmm." he crooned, pink drool oozing down his chin.

And thus he became an instant fan of Easter.

The best part of the event was meeting the people involved with the Garden, such as the founder Mark "Cub" Covington. He's one of those people who just exudes warmth - the kind of person you can instantly believe in. He rushed around greeting visitors, handling event minutiae and giving interviews to the local press, keeping a smile on his face all the while.




We also met Tammy, a board member and volunteer for the Garden. She told Robbie about their new community center across the street - a vacant storefront that until recently had served as a haven for crack addicts and prostitutes. In fact, as they were cleaning it up for its new purpose, they apparently found one such prostitute inside and had to literally run her off.



We also met countless other volunteers and supporters who only reinforced the kind of energy and creativity that can be found in Detroit. My measly contribution to the event was to stir some pancake batter (and even that I managed to botch by spraying myself and a sleeping Fionn with said batter), but I'm looking forward to getting my hands dirty in the garden this summer.




Robbie made several friends when he attempted to teach some boys how to fly a kite. I walked up just as it soared triumphantly into the air...before swan diving into the closest tree. They managed to get the now mangled carcass down and Robbie pulled out his best Macgyver moves, replacing a broken bar with a twig. The boys' commentaries during all this had us rolling with laughter.

When we got home, Robbie started brainstorming ways to get involved with their outreach programs for kids. I hope he does it - his ability to connect with kids is one of the reasons I adore him.

After the event wound down and Emerson was practically comatose, we drove around getting to know the area better. Several minutes passed and it became clear that Emerson was not going to sleep (probably due in large part to the high amount of sugar he consumed), so we stopped by Eastern Market. We've wanted to go to this ever since we moved to Michigan, but our track record for getting up early on Saturdays is less than stellar.

Now I realize the trip is well worth the lost sleep. Even though it was a smaller winter version, tons of shoppers and vendors packed into a giant shed and spilled out into the walkway. You can buy everything there: vegetables, fruits, honey, meats, herbs, lotions - you name it.



More than anything I loved the visual spectacle of it all - a hefty woman wearing the gauzy white bonnet of a Mennonite selling freshly baked pies and breads...young men bellowing out the prices for asparagus and strawberries like carnival barkers...Easter lilies and hydrangeas lined up like soldiers, their heads nodding softly in the breeze.

We got some things for Easter dinner and some apples for Emerson to snack on, but we're looking forward to going back next month for garden supplies and even more local food.



All in all, it was a pretty amazing day. Now if only I can remember that on future weekend mornings so I can ignore the voice in my head that whispers "reach for the snooze."

After the Apocalypse or An Ode to D-Town

When President Obama made his speech about the fate of the American automotive companies, I listened with great interest since I live in Michigan and nearly everyone here is affected by them one way or another. A few minutes into the speech, however, some household duty distracted me and I went into the other room.

Almost immediately, I felt the insistent tug of tiny hands pulling my pant leg. I sighed and followed Emerson back into the living room, assuming he wanted help with some dysfunctional toy or something to eat that he shouldn't be eating. Instead, he dragged me over to the television and then resumed watching the rest of Obama's speech with intense 2-year-old interest. I guess he didn't appreciate my lapse in judgment.

The first time I came to Michigan, it was on a cross-country trip from Salt Lake City where Robbie and I met, to his school in Flint, Michigan. After hours of driving through the steamy, languid southern states (we had gone through Texas and Memphis so I could meet his friends and family) I woke up in Michigan, uncomfortably aware of the temperature drop. Despite the fact that spring was in full effect at the beginning of April in most parts of the country we had been in, winter still had its icy fingers wrapped tightly around Michigan.

After a bleary-eyed conversation with his grandma (who's house we were staying in - he would never let me sleep in Flint), we were off to see one of the great wonders of the state: a coney island. For those not in the know, this is a hybrid of greasy diner and greek restaurant that pop up in various forms throughout the state. In the morning, it means a dingy storefront filled with the smell of pancakes and cheap coffee. At night, they are a haven for 20-somethings to gather and eat off their night of drinking with chili cheese fries and gyros (it's counter-intuitive, but it works). As a fan of breakfast foods - especially cheap breakfast foods - I consider these restaurants to be one of the best features of this fair state.

Anyway, sitting in a coney island for the first time, I looked around at the well-worn faces of the regulars and thought: "This is a state of real, hard-working, down-to-earth people. This is the state for me."

When I recounted this story to a co-worker a couple of years later, she laughed and said, "Yeah, everyone starts out thinking Michigan is full of salt-of-the-earth people. Then you quickly realize they are just dumb-asses."

I admit, I laughed at this comment because by then, Michigan had long ago lost its luster. We lived in a string of metro-Detroit suburbs and realized that we were most definitely not suburban people. The endless, run-down strip malls combined with Michigan's interminably gray weather had me in a deep funk. Not to mention that the reality of Michigan's economy settled in when I went from being a PR person for Utah's biggest non-profit to a secretary for the University of Michigan. And it took me two months to find that job.

Like Tom Jones, I wanted to go home:


(Incidentally, this must be what a music video looks like for a professional karaoke singer.)

Despite my growing disgust, I was determined to defend Detroit and Michigan as a whole against outside detractors. When my best friend came up from Illinois to visit, she was terrified of even driving in the state by herself because she imagined it must all be like the movie "8 Mile." Not only did I have to talk her out of this, I decided I had to take her on a tour of Detroit to show her that it did have many good points.

I told her about my plans on the phone before she came, and she was very alarmed to say the least. "You know, my friend heard that there was a hammer killer going around Detroit beating people to death with a hammer when they got out of their cars to get gas," she told me.

I laughed hysterically. "That is ridiculous! I promise you, I have never heard of a hammer killer in Detroit," I assured her.

I knew our trip to Detroit was doomed when we pulled into a coffee shop on the way there and my friend immediately pointed out a newspaper for sale that had the headline "HAMMER KILLER CAUGHT."

"Well," I stammered, "He was caught wasn't he? So there's nothing to worry about."

The trip only got worse when I let my husband drive. He can navigate himself out of any situation - unless it involves driving in Detroit. Instead of showing her all the artistic and historical high points of the city, we ended up driving in circles through the most desolated neighborhoods imaginable.

Finally, we gave up and took them to swanky Birmingham a 15-minute drive away. My friend's husband, who had fallen asleep during the drive (apparently unaware that his wife was fearing for her life) woke up as we pulled into Birmingham's glittering downtown. He blinked several times and looked around in confusion. "Did we drive to another state?" he asked.

Since this escapade, I have traveled through more of Michigan's wild beauty up North and along the coasts. I have started attending an ecumenical seminary in downtown Detroit, which has introduced me to the strength and diversity of the people who live and minister in the city. And we have moved from the suburbs to Ann Arbor to be closer to our jobs. In Ann Arbor, we finally found our yuppie, hippie-lovin' utopia. I can write several more posts about this city alone, but for now let's just say that if I could move in an ocean, Ann Arbor would be heaven on earth.

All these events combined have led me to a renewed love of Michigan.

Watching the local news coverage after Obama's speech, I could hear the anguish and frustration of people who have been dealing with an economic apocalypse long before it made national headlines. When you walk through downtown Detroit, the crumbling buildings and deserted streets echo the apocalypse feeling.



Yet despite all this, I can't help feeling optimistic and even excited about the state's future and Detroit specifically. I know that coming from an upper middle-class Ann Arborite, that means absolutely nothing, but it's how I feel. Sometimes it takes hitting rock bottom to mobilize the creativity and passion needed to make major changes. And since Detroit hit bottom first, the eyes of the country are turning back to Detroit to see what efforts are in place to rebuild. And there are many efforts - from artists moving in and creating art out of destruction, to locals creating community gardens on vacant lots that not only provide fresh, local food for the surrounding poor neighborhoods, but also help green the city and bring up house prices.

If you are local, check out these two great organizations and get involved:
Georgia Street Community Collective
Michigan Land Bank

If you aren't local and want to see some amazing pictures and read equally incredible stories about Detroit - from packs of wild dogs to artist communities to deserted schools full of supplies left to rot - check out Sweet Juniper.

I don't "wanna go home" anymore - I do feel at home in Michigan now. And even more exciting (this is where I really cheese it up), if I make time to get involved, I can be part of something big. A new way forward. A new definition of growth.