Guest Blogger Week: City Love
Detroit is often seen as the city that once was - a blighted, crumbling icon of the Industrial Age. Vacant lots and shuttered windows attest to her struggle. These are hard times in a tough city. I have searched her streets for signs of life. I have seen hearts hardened by dashed hopes and desolate winters. I have witnessed her ruthlessness and wanted to leave. But I have also seen magic. I have seen secret gardens bloom from acres of asphalt. I have watched little girls pirouette down sidewalks, backpacks swinging from their shoulders. I have danced on rooftops, dizzy from the views of Woodward Avenue and Canada beyond. I have marvelled at the Ambassador Bridge abuzz with headlights, tiny cars sailing over strips of pavement into the Great White North. I have wandered the stalls of Eastern Market looking for the day’s best strawberries, toes tapping along to the drum and bass of a rock and roll band playing on Division Street. I have trudged through snowstorms to have my heart melted by the sparse beauty of a single song played in the cozy darkness of a dive bar in December. I have tasted the Midwest’s best spanokopita in Greektown, bowed before the majesty of late night non-Taco Bell tacos in Mexicantown (Xochimilco: Open ‘Til 2!), and hoisted steins of Blatz in the air during an Oktoberfest sing-a-long at the Dakota Inn. I have felt the aging walls of the Bohemian National Home shaken from their slumber by the thunder of fuzzy basslines pumping from PAs. I have passed muggy summer days watching freighters roll past the shores of Belle Isle. I have been broadsided by the beauty of a Sunday afternoon, eyes wide to absorb the exploding greenery of Midtown in mid-May. I have welcomed the first summer sunburn on the deck at the Magic Stick while delicate pop melodies float over the rails and out into the city. I have loved and hated Detroit in the span of an hour. I have cursed the city and sung its praises in the same breath. I have heard tales of her grandeur from grandmothers and great aunts and been warned of her dangers by my father on a regular basis. The depression and decay make easy headlines, but there is beauty beneath the dirt. You just have to do a little digging. I have held the gems of this city in my hands, dirt under my fingernails, delighted by treasures found in an unexpected place.
and a soundtrack? but of course! have a listen to “dark autumn hour” by michigan’s own frontier ruckus.
Written by Caitlin and you can check out her Flickr here.
