Romance novel scene: fair and approximate

     Lately, if I want a good laugh, I read a romance novel. No, I haven't read Fifty Shades of Grey, and I doubt I'll see the movie, but I have read, and will sometimes read aloud, books written by Diana Palmer (Will of Steel), Nicholas Sparks (Safe Haven), or J.R. Ward (Lover Eternal), as my partner and friends can attest. I laugh until I cry. It's not the romance that's so goddamn funny, it's the messy prose, the misshapen story, the overblown setting, or the painfully stereotyped characters that keep me reading and guffawing. I want to make it clear that these stories bring me true, B-movie variety, joy. I recommend you try a page or two of any of the books above. 
     So, given the pleasure I derive from these reads, I thought I'd try my hand. I hope this romance novel-style scene makes you chuckle. 

     Imitation meet flattery. Fan fiction: generic romance!

     Tabitha sat in a lacquered booth at the back of the Applebee's waiting for her date, Witt, to arrive. She nervously eyed the front door. Why did I let Stacy talk me into this? I haven't been on a date in forever. Ugh. What kind of name is Witt anyway?

     The waitress came over. "Can I get you something to drink?" She sounded like she was in a rush, frazzled. She took a moment to smooth her apron and primp her hair while Tabitha decided what to order. Tabitha noted that the waitress's neon shirt was almost as bright and tight as the neon lights glaring off the wall in the packed restaurant. 

     "Um, I guess I'll have a beer--a Coors." Tabitha squinted as she looked up at the waitress one more time. The woman had slick makeup and her shirt definitely showed off all her assets. I'll give it to you, girl. You probably make more tips looking like that. 

      "Coors. Coming right up." The waitress bustled away.
     Tabitha frowned and looked down at her own frumpy sweater. She chewed on her mousy, split-end laden hair and thought about her wardrobe choices. Remember Tabitha, you dressed down on purpose for this practically-forced-date. Tabitha told herself that the last thing she wanted was a romantic entanglement. Anyway, at this point in her life, in her mid-thirties, she wouldn't know what to do with romance if it came up and slapped her on the ass!
     Why is this guy interested in me? Tabitha couldn't understand it. She thought back to her conversation with Stacy, who had said this guy, Witt, lived in the neighborhood and had a feeling about Tabitha after meeting her. Yeah, I must have made a big impression. I don't even remember it. Witt told Stacy he wanted to get to know Tabitha better. "No pressure" is what he'd said to Stacy. But what did that mean? And what was this "feeling" business? A feeling? Who has a feeling about someone they've only just met? It took some convincing, but here she was. Tabitha told Stacy that she would meet this mystery man as a favor, but that was it. Just friends. Just dinner. Nothing more! 
     Tabitha had too much going on in her life right now--with work not going well and her aunt being sick. Not to mention that Tabitha had also fallen recently and hit her head, exacerbating an old childhood head trauma. She wasn't thinking clearly. She had some memory loss and was having trouble, more trouble than usual, doing basic calculations at her office job. She was worried about her head, but was trying not to worry too much. She would find out more at the appointment she had made with a specialist tomorrow.
      Tabitha's internal pity-party was cut short when she heard a commotion near the main entrance. A man had entered the restaurant. A really, really big man. Tabitha sat up in her booth to get a better look. Wow! He was out-of-this-world gorgeous. He looked like a cross between The Incredible Hulk and Leonardo DiCaprio. Except he wasn't green. But he was incredible. Tabitha could tell even from the back of the restaurant that he was the biggest, strongest, toughest, most fit man she'd ever seen. One big muscle. The Applebee's looked like it could barely contain him. 
     Tabitha kept watching the man. She couldn't take her eyes off of him. He had sandy-brown hair that had a sexy, tousled-by-the-wind, thing going on. His clothes were nice too. Not too flashy. He wore a fitted, light blue button-down shirt that Tabitha swore, even from this distance, hi-lighted his eyes. He had long legs that fit snugly into the best pair of jeans Tabitha had ever seen. Ugh! Suddenly she felt self-conscious ogling this man just like every other red-blooded American woman in the place. She was relieved when the waitress came over with her beer. 
     "Thanks," she said, taking a too-fast gulp and spilling some on her pilled up, taupe colored sweater. As she dabbed at the stain with her napkin, the hostess walked down the isle with the gorgeous man and his dog.
     His dog? That's weird. I thought dogs weren't allowed in here. 
    The dog was a Golden retriever wearing a harness. 
     The hostess stopped at a table where a redhead with a boob-job sat alone. The woman turned and looked stunned to see so much gorgeous man in her face. "Hi!" she said.
      Ugh! Am I going to have to watch an episode of the Bold and the Beautiful all night?
     "Hello. I'm Witt." He grinned. "Are you Tabitha?" He extended his huge hand toward the middle of the table. 
     Oh my God! What? Did he say, Tabitha? Tabitha felt faint. She wanted to crawl into a hole. She looked for the nearest exit, but the only way out was past Witt and his dog.
     "My name's Denise, but it can be anything you want--"
     "Oh. I'm sorry. I'm looking for Tabitha--" The dog whined and yanked his owner toward Tabitha.
       This guy can't be Witt.
     The dog came right over to Tabitha's booth and sat down, pulling Witt with him. The hostess was not far behind.
     Ugh. Am I in a dream or a nightmare? Either way, it will be over with soon enough.
     "Tabitha?" Witt asked, turning on a huge smile.
     The dog barked and wagged his tail.
     "Yes, but I'm sure I'm not who you're looking for." She tugged at her baggy sweater.
     "Why don't you let me be the judge."
     "Are you waiting for Witt?" the hostess butted in.
     "Yes," Tabitha said, grudgingly.
    Witt beamed. "That's me. I'm Witt, your blind date, and this is Stanley." Stanley barked and Witt extended his hand nowhere near Tabitha.
     Oh my gosh. He's actually blind! This is not funny! I'm going to kill Stacy for not telling me!
     Stanley barked again.
     Tabitha shook Witt's hand. 
     "Nice to finally meet you," Witt said with a cool chuckle. But he wasn't cool. He was hot. Erotic even.
     Tabitha was speechless. While Witt sat down, struggling to fit his enormous frame and long legs under the table, Tabitha focused on Stanley, the most beautiful, well-behaved dog she'd ever seen. She scratched him behind the ears and he sat down next to her.
     The hostess stood by their table for a minute, probably trying to figure why this guy was on a date with plain-Jane-Tabitha when he could have had anyone in town. She said, "Can I get you anything, Witt?" She rubbed his shoulder, a bit suggestively, Tabitha thought.
     "What are you drinking, Tabitha? Let me guess!" He took a whiff of the air. "Coors?"
     "Um--yeah." Tabitha was astonished.
     "I'll have one of those. I'm not driving tonight," he chuckled. 
     The hostess laughed. "I'll have your waitress bring it over in two shakes." She bumped Witt twice with her ample hip and waited for him to give her some sort of signal that he wanted her to stay, but he didn't.
     Tabitha sat awkwardly across the table from Witt, but unlike the hostess, she was trying to think of a way to let him off the hook and hightail it home. I might still be able to catch Grey's Anatomy. She noticed that Stanley had settled down under the table on her side, there was no room for him on Witt's side. The man is as big as a house! Tabitha took a sip of her beer and steeled herself. "Witt, it was really nice of you to ask me out, but I don't think I'm what you're looking for. I think I'll just finish my beer and then go if it's all the same to you."

     ****

     That voice. Witt had been hearing that voice in his dreams. Oh, man. He just wanted to reach across the table right now and put his hand over her neck so he could feel the vibrations of her vocal chords. Man! What a turn on. Tabitha, sweet, Tabitha. But then Witt actually heard what Tabitha had said and he shot his hand out to hers. "Wait a minute. Tabitha, are you trying to leave? Leave a blind man hanging on a blind date?" He laughed at his own joke. But then he turned serious. "Don't go. Not yet. Just talk to me. Let me hear your voice for a little while longer. I've been waiting for this. I'm so happy you said yes to this date."
      Tabitha was quiet across the table. Up close, Witt knew he could be a lot to take in. He was worried he'd been too straight forward. He was about to say some other pansy, pleading thing, when she said, "Are you really blind?"
     Witt threw back his head and laughed. "Yes! Man, you scared me for a second. I thought you were really going to cut and run."
     "I was."
     Witt sobered. "Can I tell you something? You've got the most beautiful, solid-melting-to-liquid-metal voice I've ever heard."
     "Oh."
     "May I?" Witt reached across the table, found Tabitha's neck, and stroked it. "Say something," he purred.
     Tabitha went still. "What are you doing?" she said with mock outrage.
     Witt knew it was mock because he could feel the heat coming off her neck. "Tell me to take my hand away and I will." He stroked her neck some more, just like he'd imagined doing. But oh, it was so much softer than he had anticipated. When Tabitha didn't pull away he said, "Will you do me a favor? Keep talking? Tell me about yourself. I want to know everything about you."
     "Hmm. How about, I ask the questions," Tabitha said, getting used to Witt's big hand covering her throat.
     He chuckled. Well, what do you know. She's taking the lead. That's a big turn on. "Go ahead!" he said, stroking her chin with his thumb. He wished he could feel more of her soft skin. It was so soft.
     "Hrr, herrm." Tabitha cleared her throat, clearly collecting herself. "How do you know Stacy? You told Stacy you had a feeling about me? From where? What feeling? Why did that feeling lead you to want to go out with me?"
     "I could listen to you talk all day long, Tabitha."
     At that moment Stanley nosed Witt and the waitress arrived with his beer. "Thanks. Hey, Tabitha, are you ready to order? Cause I want to keep talking, but I'm starving."
     "But you haven't even seen the menu yet--I mean--" Tabitha stumbled.
     "Why do you think I asked you out to Applebee's? This place is my jam. I know everything on the menu. And let me tell you, everything is good."
     "Oh. Well, okay. You start and then I'll catch up." 
     "Great. I'll have the spicy chili cheese nachos, make it a double, onion rings, double too, and the classic wings, 30 count. You can skip the celery on that, but double the dipping sauce. For the main course, I'll go light cause I didn't have time for my workout today. Let's see, I'll do the all-in burger, with triple bacon, the steak and riblets combo, and then the shrimp scampi linguine. Oh, and a Pepsi to drink, and you can keep those coming. Thanks." Witt smiled in Tabitha's direction. "Did that buy you some time?"
     Tabitha said, "I'm confused. Did you just order for both of us?"
     "Nope. That was all for me. I have to keep up my strength, in my line of work. But I'm happy to share everything with you, Tabitha." He smiled. Witt knew he had a dazzling smile and he wasn't afraid to use it. Please let it work on Tabitha.
     "Oh, um, I'll just have the oriental chicken salad, thanks." 
     Witt couldn't wait to feel that throat of hers vibrating under his palm again. He was impatient for the waitress to leave, which was new. Normally, he loved attention from the ladies, but since the first time he'd run into Tabitha a week ago, all of his attention was on her, and nothing could pull it away.
     The waitress read back the order. "I'll bring the apps out first.  Do you want me to wait on your salad, sweetie?" she asked Tabitha.
     "Yeah."
     It felt like an eternity to Witt, but Stanley nosed him, which meant the waitress had finally left. All right. "Back to the important stuff, Tabitha. You were asking some serious questions. And I want to give you some serious answers." Witt smiled.

****

     Witt reached his hand across the table again and laid it on Tabitha's neck. She immediately pictured them in bed. She imagined his hand lingering on her neck while she was crying out his name during climax. She pulled herself away from the daydream. What is wrong with me? What am I thinking? He's just so intense. And interesting. And smart. And super funny, in a cocky, I'm-the-man, sort of way.
     "Tabitha, what are you thinking about? I can feel your heartbeat racing and your temperature rising." He smoothed his index finger over her carotid. 
     "Nothing!" Tabitha shoved Witt's hand away from her neck.
     Witt chuckled. "Tabitha, you're even more amazing than I imagined. Man. I'm about to make a fool of myself, okay? So here goes." Witt took a deep breath. "I recently moved into the neighborhood after a ... huge life change. I've been through a lot in the past five years, and not a lot was getting through to me, but I got a great job here, which is where I met Stacy BTW, and Stan the man is with me, and anyway, I just heard you talking on the phone in your backyard when Stanley and I were taking a walk one day, and your voice just called to me. I didn't mean to listen in or anything, but I heard you being really patient and understanding with someone on the other end of the line, and I thought it was the best thing I'd ever heard. I wanted to meet you. You, this patient, strong, woman with the beautiful voice. I had this feeling about you. An instant connection. And I wanted it to last. I thought, man, I could get used to that in my life. And by some miracle, you and Stacy turned out to be friends. So I knew I had to take a chance. Man, as far as I can tell, the deck is stacked in my favor cause my cards keep coming up Aces."
    Tabitha was shocked and a little confused. No one had ever spoken to her this way, let alone a virile man up close like this. She came to her senses. "But you don't even know me. And I don't know you." Tabitha sat back and folded her arms across her chest.
     Witt leaned forward as if he felt her distance. "So get to know me. I want to know you. So bad."
     Stanley nosed Witt and Tabitha and then the waitress arrived with a double order of nachos, onion rings, a plate of wings, and a Pepsi.
     Witt pointed at the table and said, "Put the wings at my 3, the rings at my 12, and the nachos at my 9. Thanks. I have a feeling Tabitha might want an onion ring or two, they're delicious."
     The waitress smiled at Tabitha and gave her the thumbs up. 
     Tabitha drained her beer. 
     "Anything else right now?" the waitress asked.
     "Can I have a water?" Tabitha asked.
     "Sure thing, sweetie." 
     "Help yourself," Witt gestured to his multiple plates before he began to eat. 
     Tabitha was prepared to be disgusted, but Witt was not a caveman. He ate slowly, chewed his food, and wiped his mouth repeatedly with a napkin. He did make satisfied grunting noises while eating, but who was Tabitha kidding, so did she. The waitress returned with water and Tabitha decided to indulge in a few onion rings. Witt was right, they were delicious. She smiled to herself.
     "Having a good time? Glad you stayed?" Witt asked between chicken wings. 
     "For the time being. I haven't totally made up my mind. Can I ask you some more questions?"
     "Yes. Absolutely. Shoot."
     "What do you do for a living?"
     "Military. But, I had to kind of retool after my injury."
     "I thought so. You said you work with Stacy... So you're blindness--you haven't always been blind? It happened recently?"
     "Yeah. Two years now. I'll tell you the whole story some day. It's not good dinnertime conversation. It was rough, but Stanley and my brothers helped me get through it, they're still helping me."
     "Your brothers? Do they live in town?"
     "A few." Witt downed his Coors.
     Tabitha watched Witt for another minute. She was amazed at how efficiently he ate. He knew where everything was on the table. He didn't bump into anything or make a mess. The nachos were gone before she knew it and the wings were in a neat pile at his elbow soon after. She noticed that Stanley didn't get any table scraps, which she liked. Who am I kidding, there aren't any table scraps!
     Tabitha realized she felt more comfortable, until she saw the woman with the boob job staring at her. She had a bitchy, disbelieving look on her face, which made Tabitha feel like the woman was right. How am I getting suckered in like this? I'm no beauty queen. Tabitha looked down at her sweater again and realized she must look awful, especially compared to Mr. Perfect across the table. "Why don't you have a girlfriend? It occurs to me that any number of women would love to date you."
     "Whoa." Witt wiped his hands on his napkin and reached across the table for Tabitha's cheek. 
     She jerked back.
     "Tabitha, where's the edge in your voice coming from? What's wrong? You know, even if I wasn't blind, I'm trained to hear changes in emotion--"
     "Can you see at all? You don't even know what I look like. Because if you did--"
     "If I did, I'd be just as into you." Witt gently touched Tabitha's hair. "I told you, I've been through a lot. My priorities weren't always straight, but they're getting there. And you're a part of that. I can't totally explain it. But hearing you brought hope to me. I've walked by your house a million times hoping to hear you, meet you. Your strength, your voice, that stuff's a total turn on. For real. Big time. "
     Tabitha balked and Witt got serious.
     "Do you want to know how turned on I am right now? Reach down between my legs and find out."
     "Witt!" Tabitha was mortified, but immediately turned on herself.
     "I'm sorry, Tabitha, but it's the truth. And I'm not gonna lie to you. I will wait for you, no problem. But I'll want you all the time. That's just me."
     "Okay."
     Wow, this guy is big and real and honest. Is he too much for me to handle? Maybe, but I think I want to find out.
     Tabitha took the last onion ring just as their entrees arrived.

Detroit! Notes from last Christmas

     A year ago, Christmas Eve Day, I took an eight hour walking and driving tour of Detroit offered by the historian/artist at detroiturbex.com. The tour focused on the history of Detroit--its changing neighborhoods, communities, buildings of worship, and system of public education--as well as prospects for the future in the midst of the city's bankruptcy proceedings. Because I'm a teacher, my tour guide adapted the tour to include as many schools as time allowed. 

     Below are compiled notes, photos, and emails that I sent to a friend just after the experience. I'm posting them now in part to: remind myself of what I learned last year, and to compare what I saw last year to what I saw this year in Detroit over the holidays. (I regret that I did not take more photos last year, nor any this year, but the best photos of the spaces I visited in Detroit, and of Detroit in general, can be found at detroiturbex.com.) 

      December, 24th 2013: At quarter to nine in the morning it is thirteen degrees outside. I drive downtown with the Subaru's seat-heat on. I am wearing a ski jacket, hat, gloves, and snowpants. I'm prepared for a  day outside. The drive along E. Warren Ave. to midtown takes ten minutes. I park outside the restaurant where I am scheduled to meet my guide. 

     The restaurant looks open. I could use some coffee so I walk inside. Moodymann is playing in the background, the windows are steamy. Three people are busy behind the counter. I ask for a cup of coffee. 

     One of the women says, "We don't open 'til eleven, do you mind drinking our coffee? I mean, it's strong. It's what the staff drinks."

     "No. That sounds perfect!" I say. This is my favorite Detroit. The doors are open. We're all here. There is no formality, no rigidity, no separation. 

     My guide shows up five minutes later. He is a guarded, bearded man, in his late thirties. He is very professional. I appreciate that. There's no small talk. He goes right into the tour.

     I drive the car. My guide has the plan. He immediately takes us to an area downtown that was a forested railroad bed six months ago. Now, it's a pedestrian walkway and bike path. It's a huge tract of land. Apparently older pedestrian/bike paths now lead from apartment buildings to a year-round farmer's market to office areas downtown. Newer paths, including this one, will lead from other residential neighborhoods to more office spaces. All of these sections of the city used to be impassable on foot or by bike because of the way the freeway is laid out--it crisscrosses downtown. The paths pass under the freeway, are lit, and patrolled. This seems like obvious, cheap, urban infrastructure, but it is completely new to Detroit. We drive to three new schools that line these bike paths. There are also newly renovated buildings that are now multi-use spaces nearby. A new Whole Foods sits near Wayne State University--the only WF in the Detroit area. This is a huge fucking deal. Everyone in Detroit is jazzed, including my guide, that WF would invest in downtown. 

     I learn that my guide did not grow up in Detroit, but has lived here for almost seven years. He knows pretty much everything you could think of to ask about the city. He is not interested in "ruin porn"--photos of urban decay--he is interested in capturing the history and context of this evolving metropolitan area through photography. My guide is telling me so much, I start taking notes in order to keep track. 

     A few things become immediately apparent: (1) Because Detroit is huge, we will barely scratch the surface in eight hours. (2) The city is filled with pocket communities whose inhabitants don't necessarily want to be consolidated. (3) There is so much unused, unoccupied space--fields, forests, between neighborhoods and even houses that it makes the efficient use of resources nearly impossible. (4) As a result, this spread out city cannot all be managed. A lot of funding for basic services is being provided by private investors.

     We stand out in the freezing cold and my guide tells me about the history and movement of different community groups. We spend a lot of time at abandoned schools and churches for two reasons: (1) To get a feel for these former community centers/how many have been closed/how many communities are gone. (2) To see how rapidly natural cycles take hold. We go into buildings that have been closed for one to three years mostly. Once the windows are out and water enters through the roof, natural geological processes take over. It only takes a coupe of freeze/thaw cycles for the plaster and concrete and brick to crumble. Anything constructed after the war, with steel beams, has a better chance. The Detroit Public School System has its own police force to try to protect closed buildings from scrappers. 

     I learn that scrapping became a big business in the mid to late 2000s in Detroit, when most of these schools were closed.

The newly cleared bike path. It will be paved, lit, and sodded by summer. Paid for with private funds. 

One of the DPS charter schools along the pedestrian path.

Close up of an old Pontiac.

An abandoned house that has been purchased and sold several times--with the intent to gut and refurbish. It has sat under current ownership for ten years.

The gymnasium of an elementary school near Jefferson Ave. The school had been closed for one and a half years. 

A Catholic church that was built in the fifties in a Polish neighborhood. When the Polish community moved out, the neighborhood was no longer Catholic, and attendance at the church went from 7000 to 500 over a decade. 

    I haven't used my guide's name thus far because he uses many aliases. He explained that he uses an alias partly to remain anonymous and partly because he "deals with a lot of characters in different contexts". He wants the city he's covering to be the focus, not him. He has a lot of clients who want to remain anonymous as well. 

     He said, "It's all about building trust in these towns." 

     We tour a series of schools--elementary, middle, high--and discuss the evolution of school closings over the last several years. One of the first major schools to close was Cass Tech. It was an amazing science and art school--state of the art in its day. A new Cass Tech was built right next door, but they didn't have a plan for the old building. It was left as is--abandoned. Scrapping hadn't become a livelihood in Detroit yet, and so the abandoned Cass Tech sat. Detroiters were really upset that all the equipment, books, etc. were left in the old school. 

     Beyond being unbelievably wasteful, it seemed an unhealthy sign to leave a building that way, a sign that DPS or its school board was corrupt and that corruption was on display. My guide told me that Detroiters hoped that Cass Tech could be reopened as a community center, but after being closed for a few years it was already too damaged, at which point the building became a PR nightmare, a liability, and a reminder of better days in Detroit. As a result, the old Cass Tech was demolished. 

     We walk the old Cass Tech footprint. 

     My guide explains that when it became clear that hundreds more schools would begin closing starting in the late 2000s, a new closing plan was put in place so Cass Tech wouldn't happen again and demolition (expensive) could be avoided in favor of sales. 

      My guide outlines the plan below (taken from my hasty notes): (1) Close schools that have terrible attendance and/or that are too costly to maintain (old). Many of these schools would have an ancient, about-to-bust or busted boiler. (2) Once closed, remove all DPS equipment from the building. Try to sell the building. In the meantime, police guard buildings--DPS police. (3) After six months to a year, guarding by police becomes too expensive, so set up infrared cameras and remove metal (lockers, pipes, wiring). Police drive by. (4) After one/two years, if the building hasn't sold and there is no rebound in the neighborhood, stop patrolling. Inevitably scrappers come in, if they haven't already, and remove all the metal that's left. They leave the building open for the homeless and others. Then the school buildings are essentially abandoned by the city. 

Old cars in a lot.

Police parked at a recently closed school. Decorative metal from the roof is already being pulled.

Renovating for Corktown apartments.

One year vacant elementary school.

Brightmoor community theater.

  Each school we tour is in a different stage of  disrepair. In the best case, the lights/heat still work, and some programs are being run out of a section of the building (usually taken over by a private education entity). These schools have lockers on the walls. Schools that are actually closed, but still have a chance to be purchased or salvaged, have a door open, with all the lockers removed, and no lights, but they're fairly clean, and the windows are mostly intact. The worst cases are schools that have every metal window frame ripped out, drag marks or tiles missing on the floors from pilfered metal, glass everywhere, homeless huts in rooms, and staged metal near doors. If there is too much metal by a door, my guide does not take us inside a building because it means that someone is actively collecting scrap.

     Unfortunately, most of the schools we see in the afternoon are already in bad shape. 
     My guide explains that there are three types of scrap yards in Detroit. We visit all three (I have no photos). There are legitimate yards that require documentation for the scrap collector and their metal. These yards have lots of neatly organized metal that is heavily guarded. There are semi legitimate yards that may not require a collector's full ID, but still require paperwork on their metal. Like anything, this paperwork can be forged. The third type of yard is illegal and usually run out of the back of another business or out of someone's home. Scrappers can bring a stolen metal bust to the door, get pennies on the dollar for it, and the metal will be taken and broken down by the yard owner. In one illegal yard we see a sledge-hammered eagle that my guide says was probably taken off a municipal building. 
     We meet one scrapper who my guide is friends with. The man is an ex con who cannot find enough work to pay his bills, which is why he scraps. The man wears a Lions jersey and heavy workboots.  
     We do not have time to go to any established neighborhoods, of which there are many. We do visit newly opened or reopened schools, housing developments, and some strangely vibrant areas that are not new. Corktown and Brightmoor stand out. 
     Corktown,  an old neighborhood that is being revitalized, is just west of downtown on Michigan Ave. It is the neighborhood where Tiger stadum stood. That's where I went as a kid to watch my favorite Tiger, center fielder Chet Lemon, play baseball. I remember paying $2 for great seats near home plate. The stadium was torn down in late 2000s, but the baseball diamond is still visible behind a fence at the corner of Trumbull Ave. and Michigan Ave. There are new housing developments, bars and restaurants in the area.
      Brightmoor is northwest of downtown. Most of the industrial plants back in the day were right on the water, the Detroit River, obviously polluting. The soil where the plants stood (car manufacturing, tire manufacturing, coal-fired power) is mixed. Some sites are still toxic. The waterfront should be developed, should be where the money is, but building permits have been hard to obtain because of this toxic soil. Clean up has been a slow process, but it is happening. Brightmoor, north, has always been considered on the outskirts of the city and remains underdeveloped. It's now a subsistence farming, artist, and squatter community. There is decent soil there. 
     My guide explains that the way Brightmoor works is, people move in, squat, and if they can hack it for a few years, they've earned their right of passage and they're considered a part of the community. It sounds like this is a really close group of people who live and work together, and keep their patch of community thriving. We pass a few green houses. I note that my car thermometer reads fifteen degrees outside. And we can see tomatoes growing in a hothouse across the road. 
     My guide tells me that Brightmoor still has arson. And that the city doesn't provide services out here. There are maybe three or four houses per city block. There are no operating schools. The children are mostly home-schooled. 
     This seems like a hard community experiment. I look forward to hearing more about the results in the future. 

A garden in Brightmoor.

This is a synagogue that was turned into a baptist church. A common transition. 

A famous training facility for boxers like Joe Louis.

The Brewster projects downtown  which were being demolished when we arrived.

By now the sun is going down. My guide discusses the history of Detroit and the failure of the Chicago model for certain ethnic groups in Detroit. We drive by iconic ruins and works of art in the city, but by the time we get out of the car the sun is gone. My guide keeps us away from the Heidelberg Project, saying it's crap. I don't argue with him.

     I drive us back to the resturant where we first met in the morning. They are busy now. I feel energized. My guide and I shake hands, say a few parting words, and go our separate ways. My head is stuffed full of information, the history of the city mixed in with my own history.

     Returning this Christmas, 2014, I am still processing what I learned last year. Detroit is out of bankruptcy, there is new construction downtown, and public and private funds are pouring in. There is a new rail line going in on Woodward Ave.--M-1 rail--that looks like it should be more useful than the "People Mover" was. But the neighborhoods, schools, and houses of worship I visited last year were in the same state of disrepair. The city is still huge and now it's certainly rangy. 
     Detroit was not cold this year like it was last year. It was wet and foggy. The fog was so thick that I couldn't see the cityscape clearly as I drove through. From the Detroit River, I heard freighters sounding their fog horns as they passed each other in the channel. It's a loud, clear, and close sound, perhaps a distinctly Detroit sound.

Christmas without you

     One of the hazards of living far away from all your loved ones is someone always get left behind. This season it's Pete. This will be our first Christmas apart. We're both feeling a little melancholy.

     

     But don't worry buddy, I'll be back soon and then we'll tear into your squeaky toy gifts.

Birthday candle

     Sweden is dark in the wintertime. In December, the sun is only visible for seven hours on a clear day. To keep the darkness at bay, Swedes turn on lights, set candles in their windows, and put up festive decorations for the holidays. I'm familiar with these traditions only because my sister-in-law lives in Sweden with her husband and two baby girls. 

     I admire pretty much every single thing about my sister-in-law.     

     Today is her birthday. 

     Anna, in solidarity with your Arctic circle plight, I'm lighting a candle in my window. There will be luminaria to follow on Christmas Eve. I love you. I'm so grateful to have you in my life.   Happy birthday.

Diaper report

      Moving is difficult for dogs, it was difficult for mine. 

     The first week in our new place, Pete, the twelve year old puppy with a bad back, barked incessantly whenever I left the house. I could hear him "bark, bark, bark!" as I walked down the street to the grocery store, or around the corner to the bus stop.

     It sounded like he was saying, "Where the fuck are you going? You can't leave me here!" 

     I fed him treats before I left.

     He ignored them.

     I felt terrible. 

     Pete is smart though. After a week he stopped barking and started eating his treats. He knew I would be back.

     Bow, the thirteen year old, who is not as bright or as straightforward as Pete, had a harder time adjusting. 

      Bow didn't bark when I left the house that first week. He paced. He whined a little. He curled in a ball and tried to sleep. His anxiety developed more fully over the next several weeks when I started my job and was away from home for longer periods of time. Bow expresses his anxiety volumetrically through his bladder. He can pee a lot. 

     Male dog diapers can be purchased at any pet store. They are stretchy, washable, cloth girdles that have a highly absorbent pad in the middle and velcro tabs on either end. They are easy to put on and they make a pleasing velcro rip sound when you remove them. Bow is not embarrased by his diapers. They are bright blue.

     In those first few weeks, my partner and I wrapped Bow in two diapers every time we left the house. We learned quickly that one diaper was not enough. I returned home from work first and Bow's diapers would always be full. 

     I was mad at myself. I was mad at Bow. 

     My partner and I texted each other at the end of our work days. Things like:

    

     "I'm heading home now."

     "Okay. Hope you had a good day, love. I'll head out in an hour."

     

     But our nightly texts quickly turned to:

     "Bow peed again."

     "Crap!"

     "No crap, just pee."

     "Sorry, love. Be home soon. I'll do the laundry tonight."

     "Thanks, babe."

     

     They continued that way for several weeks:

     "Peed again. Both diapers. Maybe we should take him for longer walks in the AM? Hire a dog walker during the week?"

     "We'll talk about it when I get home."

     

     We called these nightly texts The Diaper Report. We developed a shorthand:

     "Peed."

     "Both diapers?"

     "Yep."

     "Sorry love."

     "Peed. One diaper."

      "Bow!"

     

     "Peed?"

     "Early. Both diapers."

     

     "Peed. Full diapers."

      And it went on that way for over a month. 

     My partner and I washed diapers in the sink, in the washing machine, and in the bath tub. We bought an extra set of diapers. We searched for items of clothing and bedding, aprons and bathroom mats, anything we could convince ourselves needed washing, in order to have an excuse to waste water on washing Bow diapers.

     We told Bow we loved him. We told him he was a good boy. We praised him when he peed outside. We plied him with treats. At first, nothing but staying with him seemed to calm his anxiety.

     

     But at some point in those first two months, the Diaper Report started to read:

     "No pee!"

     "No way!"

     "Yes way!"

     

     And:

     "Pee free again!"

     "That's four days in a row! Way to go Bow!"

     

     Bow doesn't  seem anxious when I leave the house anymore. Sometimes, when there's a break in our routine, he pees in his diaper. But I think he has adjusted to his new space and the new routine and our days no longer end with a Diaper Report.