Detroit Vignettes

1. Drums in the night

Went to Detroit on Wed night to check on my grandfather’s house. Said house is in a really rough neighborhood (7 Mile and Woodward, for those who know the town) and is surrounded on all sides by blocks of burn-outs. Sad, desperate prostitutes walk the main drag, and shadowy figures lurk under the trees. However, the street seems to be doing pretty well … in large part due to the Innate Healing Center and vegetarian cafe on the corner. The owner, Bob, has set up a huge number of community programs to encourage people to support their own neighborhood rather than burning it down. One of these is a Wed night drum circle. Having gotten settled in my mom’s room in the house, I walked up and sat in with the drummers for a couple of hours. Old people and young people, urban poor kids and suburban kids looking for a little adventure, talented drummers and me … all sitting around a bonfire in the middle of a burned out, falling down city. It was a good time. I like the fact that when I go there I can literally hear the drums from where I sleep (with the windows open because it’s summertime), but I know that the drummers are friends … and they drum and keep the fire going to keep the wolves away.

If you want to stop by, and you’re in the area, they’re just south of 7 mile, on the East side of Woodward Ave. Drumming is every Wed. starting at about 9pm and going until well past midnight.

2. Voices from the past

One of the reasons that we rent out this house rather than selling it is that it’s full of stuff. Most of the stuff is entirely pointless rubbish from a forgotten age. Some is intimate treasures that are no longer treasured by anyone still living. However, there is a third category … and I found some of that. A wooden crate, shipped back from Japan when my grandfather returned from the occupation force over there after World War 2. He had kept every letter that my grandmother sent him. Neatly folded and bundled by month. I opened and read a couple, and I could hear my grandmother’s voice. Talking about how my uncle (now in his 60’s) liked chewing on carrots to soothe his gums. “The other mothers give their children zwieback toast, but he makes such a mess with that, and carrots serve the same purpose.” She talked about not wanting to become staid and boring like the other married couples … but instead to have a lifelong courtship with dating and dancing.

I wish I had the time to scan all of these and make a sort of museum.

3. Of time and space

I had intended to do a lot of sorting, but instead I was sucked into cleaning. Home Depot will rent a carpet cleaning machine for only $22 for 24 hours. I got one, and tapped into my German roots (and a bit of beer, let’s be honest here). Somewhere after muttering to the carpet about what a dirty, dirty carpet it was … I realized that I was thinking of my mother, grandmother, and great grandmother, all cleaning this same house.

One of the interesting things that happens to me there is that I lose touch with who I am and when it might be. I sleep in my mother’s bed, where she slept when she was a child. I clean my grandfather’s house. I organize my great-grandfather’s brewing supplies. I find that in the middle of the night, when the drums start and I lay awake sweating in the summer heat … I might be any of these people. It might be any year. I might be anywhere.