Again, betrayed is how I felt. Mania for a neighborhood of green lawns in summer was ruining my summer. That lawn was making me buy gasoline I didn’t have money for. That gas wasn’t getting me to work to make me money, nor was it getting me out to Royal Oak to The Gap outlet for cheap clothes, nor to Ann Arbor the closest college town with good books and eats, nor to any oddball Michigan town to conduct research for our project (more on that in the future).Read More
Clarkston, Michigan was a mostly middle class and upper middle class suburb. Jared and I were by no means either. Our privilege was whiteness, if that, because our whiteness was at least partly shadowed by our shabbiness and what might be called “artiness”, “bohemian air” or “punkishness”, and likely all three.Read More
I gotta dig up our photographs from Detroit. G/d, we were so young. Poor and getting into debt. Working in Detroit. We were renting a house in Clarkston, Michigan from a minister and her family who also ran a casual southern food cafe. Her husband was a cop. They had two sweet, well behaved, and good looking kids, a son and daughter. We would drop by the restaurant for spicy chicken and coconut pie and dine with the husband and kids while she cooked.
There are so many more things to say about this…like I said I gotta get those photos, but I also gotta meet a friend for dinner.