In nineteen sixty seven, tanks and armed troops moved past this house towards Grand River and West Grand Blvd and thisI was three years old, that corner was walking distance from both of my family's home and both of my grandmothers' homes at that time.
This is just around the corner from where Big Four (Detroit Police Unit S.T.R.E.S.S.) were known to have beaten young men to death and left them in trash cans behind local businesses. Down the street from the home of David Nelson of the Last Poets and Pimba of House of Pi. This was a street where Black Panthers chased drug dealers off of the block, fed poor children and taught them to read.It's where I come froma place that never ever leaves me.
It's like something bad in the woods is going to "get" them. My jaw was constantly hanging; I really had never seen anything like it and after awhile I felt like I was from Mayberry or something, some type of country hick who didn't know what was up. Green.
And that's one of the effects of this phenomenon (?): the irregular (irrational) replaces the normal. So much so that normal people can sometimes feel like aliens.
But, at the end of the day, I'd rather be an alien rather than the alternative.
I know people who still stay in the 'hood we moved to who have never, I mean NEVER been across Woodward any farther than Highland Park. When Sears closed its doors and later was demolished, you would be surprised how many people could not find their way around that end of Woodward any more. They lost their landmark and therefore their sense of place.
I have to share this one with you: this past Fall I took a Physical Anthropology course and we had two out-of-class assignments, the first was to visit the Detroit Zoo to study and compare primates, e.g. Old World versus New World monkeys, and the second was to the Uof M Museum of Natural History in Ann Arbor. The first trip went off somewhat without a hitch; I wasn't driving them, but I'm the best mass transit navigator you've ever seen, so it didn't matter to me, I can get where I need to be.
I possess a skill that is considered to be both rare and ancient (these days); I can read a map. Correctly.
This small trip seemed to be quite a sticky one for some of my classmates. We're talking Detroiters, lifelongers I like to call them, who could NOT find the zoo. Not only could they not find it, the very thought of going there caused well, a sort of panic. Some of my classmates looked helplessly around the classroom for someone they could ride with or follow to get to the zoo, because they did not know how to get there or how to get home from there. The top fear seemed to be the fear of getting lost "out there". We're talking Royal Oak, not Antarctica.
The second trip was even worse. The idea of Ann Arbor literally flipped some of them out, they had never been that far from Detroit in their lives and the thought of not being able to find their way back to Detroit was so strong that many of them flunked the class because they did not do the assignment, which was basically about identifying fossils and fossil records.
It was like they were asked to walk on the surface of the sun, and these were young people. One young man was so freaked out about going "all the way up there" to Ann Arbor by himself that his hands shook at the sight of the Yahoo! map I printed for him.
I didn't drive that day either; I bought a $21 round trip Greyhound ticket and, armed with a Yahoo map, a skein of yarn and a crochet hook, rode the 40 minutes to downtown Ann Arbor, then walked the sixteen minutes from the bus station to U of M and walked around until I found the museum. I went in and finished my assignment and as I was leaving I ran into classmates who were astonished, astonished that I could ride a Greyhound bus "all the way up there" and find my way to the museum with, gasp!, a map.
I don't consider myself adventurous at all, but I'm amazed at how some adults in the city of Detroit consider me to be some sort of world traveller because I'm not afraid to go to a place with a map in my pocket; I had heard of it but, until last fall, had never seen people who had never been any farther than Eight Mile Road, if that far, by themselves.
In '67
my family lived on Vinewood at W Grand Blvd. One grandmother live on Euclid the other on Lawton.
My world was from Clairmont/Joy to the river and from Livernois to Woodward.
I've been around the world a couple of times, but I always find it amazing to meet adults in cities like Detroit that have never spent more than a day in their lives, outside of areas that small.
I remember those tanks. I lived on Genessee Street between Linwood and Dexter during that time. I was three years old, too. I remember not being able to play outside in front of our four-family flat because "some bad people made the army come".
I remember Mr. Jackson, the father of a playmate of mine, falling out of his car, bloodied, having come across some policemen who didn't believe him when he told them he was coming home from work and was not out looting.
Not long after we moved off Genessee Street; I remember the sight of the brick four by four apartment we lived in disappearing from view as we drove away from it for good. We went further Northwest, to a neighborhood with a baptist church on the corner with attached rectory, big oak trees and a Tastee Freez on the next block. There was a school a few blocks away that I could go to, just like my brothers and sisters, when I was old enough. I made new friends and forgot about Genessee Street.
But I will always remember the tanks and Mr.Jackson.
I'm creating a collection of multi platform journal publications, so that the on going story can be documented by many and shared with many.
Not enough of us read, study and practice what is not presented to us in barrages. Too few of us seek that which we demand be offered. My response to that demand is okay, but you'll have to use it and share it. Because it will be produced in limited quantities and later bought back at a higher price than it was sold for.
One thing I refuse to do is leave America in hopes of finding a better place prepared for me. I've been tempted a few times in my life and it just didn't feel right. If I have nothing tangible substantial and lasting to contribute to where ever I go, I'll just visit and be an open minded tourist and student.
Elders here, that are not imitating the youth (especially men) are few and far between. And too many that are accessible are not willing to listen to or support the efforts of the youth in their communities. The number of young people that gather around me is amazing and the thoughts they express is even more so. I only seek to show them what they are capable of by helping them accomplish one or two of their goals.
That is why you and many of the teachers here are very appreciated. You remind me.
https://theblacklist.net/
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Link to video Prototype Andre 3000
Being an Alien can be fun
And that's one of the effects of this phenomenon (?): the irregular (irrational) replaces the normal. So much so that normal people can sometimes feel like aliens.
But, at the end of the day, I'd rather be an alien rather than the alternative.
I like that name.
I feel so much less alone, knowing that I am not the only one pointing out urban provincial fear.
Thank You
I have to share this one with you: this past Fall I took a Physical Anthropology course and we had two out-of-class assignments, the first was to visit the Detroit Zoo to study and compare primates, e.g. Old World versus New World monkeys, and the second was to the Uof M Museum of Natural History in Ann Arbor. The first trip went off somewhat without a hitch; I wasn't driving them, but I'm the best mass transit navigator you've ever seen, so it didn't matter to me, I can get where I need to be.
I possess a skill that is considered to be both rare and ancient (these days); I can read a map. Correctly.
This small trip seemed to be quite a sticky one for some of my classmates. We're talking Detroiters, lifelongers I like to call them, who could NOT find the zoo. Not only could they not find it, the very thought of going there caused well, a sort of panic. Some of my classmates looked helplessly around the classroom for someone they could ride with or follow to get to the zoo, because they did not know how to get there or how to get home from there. The top fear seemed to be the fear of getting lost "out there". We're talking Royal Oak, not Antarctica.
The second trip was even worse. The idea of Ann Arbor literally flipped some of them out, they had never been that far from Detroit in their lives and the thought of not being able to find their way back to Detroit was so strong that many of them flunked the class because they did not do the assignment, which was basically about identifying fossils and fossil records.
It was like they were asked to walk on the surface of the sun, and these were young people. One young man was so freaked out about going "all the way up there" to Ann Arbor by himself that his hands shook at the sight of the Yahoo! map I printed for him.
I didn't drive that day either; I bought a $21 round trip Greyhound ticket and, armed with a Yahoo map, a skein of yarn and a crochet hook, rode the 40 minutes to downtown Ann Arbor, then walked the sixteen minutes from the bus station to U of M and walked around until I found the museum. I went in and finished my assignment and as I was leaving I ran into classmates who were astonished, astonished that I could ride a Greyhound bus "all the way up there" and find my way to the museum with, gasp!, a map.
I don't consider myself adventurous at all, but I'm amazed at how some adults in the city of Detroit consider me to be some sort of world traveller because I'm not afraid to go to a place with a map in my pocket; I had heard of it but, until last fall, had never seen people who had never been any farther than Eight Mile Road, if that far, by themselves.
Strange indeed.
It was weird;
I'm saying all that to say
In '67
my family lived on Vinewood at W Grand Blvd. One grandmother live on Euclid the other on Lawton.
My world was from Clairmont/Joy to the river and from Livernois to Woodward.
I've been around the world a couple of times, but I always find it amazing to meet adults in cities like Detroit that have never spent more than a day in their lives, outside of areas that small.
I live near and work in that same area again.
I remember Mr. Jackson, the father of a playmate of mine, falling out of his car, bloodied, having come across some policemen who didn't believe him when he told them he was coming home from work and was not out looting.
Not long after we moved off Genessee Street; I remember the sight of the brick four by four apartment we lived in disappearing from view as we drove away from it for good. We went further Northwest, to a neighborhood with a baptist church on the corner with attached rectory, big oak trees and a Tastee Freez on the next block. There was a school a few blocks away that I could go to, just like my brothers and sisters, when I was old enough. I made new friends and forgot about Genessee Street.
But I will always remember the tanks and Mr.Jackson.
Thank you.
I'm creating a collection of multi platform journal publications, so that the on going story can be documented by many and shared with many.
Not enough of us read, study and practice what is not presented to us in barrages. Too few of us seek that which we demand be offered. My response to that demand is okay, but you'll have to use it and share it. Because it will be produced in limited quantities and later bought back at a higher price than it was sold for.
One thing I refuse to do is leave America in hopes of finding a better place prepared for me. I've been tempted a few times in my life and it just didn't feel right. If I have nothing tangible substantial and lasting to contribute to where ever I go, I'll just visit and be an open minded tourist and student.
Elders here, that are not imitating the youth (especially men) are few and far between. And too many that are accessible are not willing to listen to or support the efforts of the youth in their communities. The number of young people that gather around me is amazing and the thoughts they express is even more so. I only seek to show them what they are capable of by helping them accomplish one or two of their goals.
That is why you and many of the teachers here are very appreciated. You remind me.