Why The Name

I believe we are shaped by the places we live. A geography and the people that inhabit that place have a profound impact on our lives.

I am so defined as a human being by both places. The city of Detroit borders Canada and the state of Alabama touches the Gulf of Mexico. I grew up as a kid in one and raised my kids in the other.

I love them both fiercely. They are my anchors. There were lots of places in between; Los Angeles, Houston, Dallas… But I never belonged to any of those, I was just passing through, collecting some of the best friends one would ever want to have in their back pocket.

Detroit- This is were you came in the industrial age if you were an immigrant. This is where you made a name for yourself if you ran a dairy union. This is where you were able to provide a good life and build a new home for your family if you worked the line and retired from Cadillac. This is the background of three of my grandparents. The industrial era Detroit, where you could make it, if you worked hard. Catholicism was the king religion. This was the stock I started from.

What made me different than my parents, was 1964, the year I was born and the era I grew up in. We moved from our duplex to big old house when I was around 5. We lived there for a year before I would start first grade at the public school a few blocks away. I still have my CHRIS t-shirt from preschool at the Presbyterian school. It fits my old Teddy bear.

I have vivid memories of my first few weeks at the public school, of making a Telephone and a House with my address and phone number on them. And then suddenly I was plucked out and into a new school. The Catholic School, the one my mom went to.

And then I met my teacher. I adored her. She was kind and she kept her class in line. I remember one day my mom was the lunch lady and I was not allowed to go to lunch because I had tried to help a friend with an answer on her test. I was cheating.

Mrs. Duncan was also black. But at 6 years old, I only saw her as my teacher. I loved her and I respected her. The impact she had on me as a young child that would help how I saw the world was profound.

We eventually had to leave Detroit because it became too violent.

Meaning my sisters and I were at the park three block away and some boys decided to show us their knives. We ran home, probably screaming the whole way. The world had changed, Detroit had changed. It was dangerous now and my parents had no choice but to leave.

But I lived in city of Detroit until 1978. I was thirteen when we moved. And the city had been integrating for a long time. It was very comfortable to me to be in an environment of mixed races and cultures at the Catholic School my mom went to. It was what I knew.

Next Time… ALABAMA

My First Blog Post



Ok, here I am. Not sure what I am doing, feel way to old to do this. But I need a place to write all the stuff I want to and not be worried that Jane’s mom is going to see it. I assume nothing. This will probably be just a journal to myself and that is okay. But I hope it’s not. I will be 54 in about ten days. Your are supposed to have it together at 54 but no one ever has it together. We are always struggling. Questioning things we said, navigating relationships, learning how to be comfortable at a new age of life.

So here I am, nervous, but ready to try something new. Something I have always wanted to do.