the blight
For fifteen years, maybe even twenty, I’ve been dreaming, thinking and wondering about the Motor City. I cannot recall if it was a movie or a book or what, but something has had me fascinated by this place in a huge and inexplicable way for a long time. Today I am fulfilling the fantasy.
I drove in on I-96 on what became a gloriously partly cloudy instead of heavy and gray Saturday and beelined it for the Eastern Market, opening day for the season. My timing was juuuust right to catch the final few vendors packing up. Oh well. I sampled some delicious herb butter on a baguette, walked back to my car and decided to drive around and look at stuff, get my bearings.
Looking at a map (which I’m typically very good with), I thought the downtown and surrounding neighborhoods I’m interested in covered much more ground. The grand tour didn’t take more than an hour and I even doubled back on a few areas.
The murals though! So many amazing ones that rival my neighborhood, and we really do them right. Also, a Microsoft Technology Center, $600-a-night MGM Grand Casino, an art museum that read Everything Is Going to Be Alright on the front, stunning architecture, steam coming up from beneath cobblestone streets, a bridge to Canada and many, many, many — many empty lots.
When I visited somewhere in Wisconsin last year I had a difficult time with the lack of fences that provide privacy, separation and clear boundaries from neighbors. What are you supposed to do if you want to layout in the sun or drink coffee in your jammies while the guy next door wants to mow the lawn? It makes no sense to me.
Here, there are no dividing fences either and few neighbors. Just grass lots that show no sign of a previous foundation. The homes that still stand look like they have giant side yards.
I drove and u-turned and drove some more and noticed a little twinge in my chest. That was some fear there, ugh, a hard thing for me to admit. I know this city is on an upward swing. The sheer number of restaurants and bars on Yelp indicate it’s a foodie town, or at least one on the rise. In fact, there are more interesting dining options here than I’ve seen in my town over the past six years. But the bleak and eerily quiet residential streets made me uncomfortable, and also interested in knowing more.
After my cruise through Downtown, Midtown, Corktown and Mexicantown (Scratch that. Southwest Detroit I’ve learned to call it since I posted), I headed to my Airbnb. I felt that twinge again as I pulled up and wondered if I’d have to leave my car on the street across from three grass lots with full exposure to the sort-of busy road. Ugh, I feel like a horrible person. I’m remembering that a friend pointed out how our city is like number one, or somewhere close, for auto theft. Why don’t I fear that my first-ever new car will be stolen or broken into in my driveway? It’s certainly more likely.
After pulling into an off-street space, my lovely host talked to me for close to an hour about the house we were standing in, her journey toward purchasing another just a couple doors down for $1,300 and how she’s been hosting people from all over the world as volunteers who help with the refab on both. Fascinating!
This house is close to a hundred years old and has some really cool features, as well as some that make me think about what I’d do if it were mine. My host made a point about saving it, and it’s sister, from the “demo list”. She also said “the blight” is almost over. Hmm, I want to know more.
Just for fun, the other night I looked up Detroit on a real estate website (I have no money or real interest in owning a house) and saw a NUMBER of homes listed for under $10,000 — that just seemed strange...and kind of appealing. What my host said is there are a bunch of houses that have been tagged for demolition and unless someone buys them, no longer will they stand. Some are refab-able, others probably not. Hmm, maybe I do want to be a homeowner.
Top of my to-do list is to get a big dose of Detroit history to really honor my multi-decade fascination and put to rest that annoying twinge. I know it’s coming from a place of unknown. I want to know more about the history of this city, where it’s headed, who’s doing what and why.
When I asked my host for a recommendation on where to eat tonight — something easy, casual and not too expensive — she recommended a place not far from the house. She likes it because it’s easy, casual and not too expensive. Perfect.
Here I sit at the oyster bar, sipping wine, dining on some of my favorite dishes (roasted cauliflower, bone marrow and hen of the wood mushroom (!) risotto) while listening to an amazing mix of Pharcyde, D’Angelo, Nate Dogg, TuPac and JayZ, and looking at great black and whites of Nina Simone, Eric B. and Rakim. It’s packed in here. It’s my new (not inexpensive) favorite place. I wish it was in my town.
Three hours ago I was struck by the difficulty of imagining myself here for more than the next three nights after thinking for decades that maybe I’m supposed to live here. As I sit here now, I revert back to being totally and completely open.
With all the empty lots in this major midwestern city, it’s clear there’s plenty of heart and life to fill it right up. Cheers to the next three days!