Monthly Archives: March 2015

Belle Isle

I grew up in the forties and fifties on the east side of Detroit. My favorite park was Belle Isle. It was a magic place, nine hundred and eighty two acres in the middle of the Detroit River. My daddy used to take me there to ride in the pony carts or on saddle. We…

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Better Times

I had lunch a few days ago with my daughter and one of her childhood friends. She’d just turned fifty and was lamenting getting older. I managed to pretty much hold my tongue and not reveal too much of what’s ahead for her. There are signs along the way to the place in your life…

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St. Paul Street, Detroit, 1948

In the summertime and on days off school, the turn of the century houses disgorged children of assorted ages and types immediately after breakfast. An alley divided the block. Once a week, a horse-drawn wagon came down the alley with an old, black man calling out, “Shee-neee!” Mothers left what broken-but-maybe fixable household discards they…

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