Going Home

Best and worst of 2008

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…” when Dickens penned his famous quote 200 years ago, he most likely considered that any period in time would be “far like the present period”. Yet somehow 2008 really did seem different to me, especially in the two cities I frequently yarn.

A moment of reminiscing on 2008’s ‘superlative degrees of comparison’ include: Red Wings and Lions, Worthy and Kilpatrick, Obama and Bush, record profits and financial collapse, community services and city services.

We have been enjoying a wonderful Holiday season with family and friends from near and far. When I look through the fabulous calendar that Marilyn Happy designed, which captures Friends of Fletcher Field pictures of 2008, and the ‘2008 in Review’ that Imogene Johnson put together, it all confirms what an extraordinary year 2008 really was!

Happy New Year!

Glass cases

Certain things they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone. I know that's impossible, but it's too bad anyway. -- Holden Caulfield in J.D. Salinger's "Catcher in the Rye"

8040 Dubay in the 1960s.

I specifically went looking for this quote tonight because I have been thinking a lot about 8040 Dubay since I found out that Grandma Lemanski wants to go back there.

In many ways, I feel the same way about that house as I do about Fletcher Field -- exactly how Holden Caulfield feels about "certain things."

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Home for Christmas

It was a streak -- at least in my mind -- greater to Ripken's 2,632 consecutive games played, DiMaggio's 56 straight games with a hit and the Dolphins' perfect season.

For every one of my 44 years on earth -- plus many, many years before I was born -- she played host to or attended the family party Christmas night.

Not this year.

Grandma Lemanski during a pre-Christmas party at her assisted-living home.

On the night of Dec. 25, 2008, 94-year-old Mildred Lemanski was confined to an assisted-living home while the rest of the family celebrated the holiday. Icy roads and a mind and body that seems to shut down further with each day kept Grandma in bed while we sang "Silent Night" in honor of her and my deceased grandfather, John Lemanski Sr., to end the party around 1 a.m.

Seeing Grandma go from a vibrant 90-year-old to her current condition has been heartbreaking for the entire family. She cannot get around without a wheelchair anymore and can barely hold a coherent conversation.

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Christmas kitties

Joy to the world -- especially in the Happy home.

Just a few days ago, we all said goodbye to our longtime family cat, Sabrina. This morning we said hello to a pair of new fury friends, Ballitty II and Sabrina II.

The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning. -- Ivy Baker Priest

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Compassion for the children

Thanks for the overwhelming response to the previous post about the passing of the Happy family cat, Sabrina. The emails, on the blog and behind the scenes, were very touching.

Now if we could just spread some of that compassion around to where it really should be focused on this holiday season and throughout the year -- the children. Funny thing how we humans often treat our pets better than we do our own kind.

I posted the following a year ago, but it remains relevant -- even more so in 2008 because only the poverty seems to be spreading, not the wealth:

'Twas the night before Christmas in the old neighborhood,
But to look around, you would think nothing good.

Few lights were hung, no dollars to spare.
Most houses were gone, others were bare.

The children who remained stuck in this place,
Dared not dream of presents or futures to embrace.

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Pet hall of fame

I had to kill the family cat today.

It was the right, humane thing to do. Sabrina was nearly 20 years old, couldn't see anymore, and had quit eating and drinking two days ago. We're pretty sure the old girl had a stroke last Sunday, and her condition deteriorated throughout the week.

The current Happy family dogs, Sam and Patches.

So, after a tearful family goodbye, I took Sabrina to the pet hospital at 4 p.m. and stroked her head while the vet did the deed. I still feel sick to my stomach.

Tonight, in an attempt to brighten my mood, I started thinking about the hall of fame of Happy family pets.

Considering Sabrina's longevity and loving nature, she's near the top of the class. The black kitty with fur balls galore came into our lives way back in college, about six months after my wife, Shannon, and I started dating.

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Digging out -- together

Nothing like a major snowstorm to pull a community together.

Just like back in the day on Dobel, the snow-shovelers were out in force on my street this morning -- and helping each other out.

The snow was so heavy, but the conversation was light and fun. I just love it when people come together.

Thank goodness for the kid across the street and his snow blower. Without 'em the mouth of my driveway would still be clogged with the icy mess the plow left there.

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Magnum's one of us

The CBS television series "Magnum, P.I." was in its heyday when I first entered the U.S. Navy in September 1984.

Missing home and often putting up with crap from fellow sailors who liked to take potshots at Detroit, I used feel a sense of pride when the show's star, Tom Selleck, donned a Tigers cap as Thomas Magnum, a private investigator living in Oahu, Hawaii.

It wasn't until tonight that I learned Selleck is more than just a huge Tigers fan who used his stardom to show his support for the team on TV. He actually spent the first five years of his life in Detroit.

That information came courtesy of a new book, "Home in Detroit: Where They Lived... in the Motor City." It features mini biographies of "the best who lived in Detroit" and current photographs of the houses they once called home.

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Those George Bailey moments

The news reports affect me differently now.

I used to look at the stories and feel disgust and disdain.

Now whenever I hear or read the words "Detroit's east side," I go into a momentary panic. I listen or search for a street name, a person's name, a child's picture.

Is that Dobel Street? Mt. Olivet? Dubay?

Did it happen to Leon? Joyce? Edith? Christopher?

Sometimes I wish I didn't know what I know now -- or whom I know now. I wish I could go back to June 2007 and make it all go away.

IGNORANCE TRULY IS BLISS.

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She never really left

My grandmother, Virginia Happy, has been gone a year now.

The living nativity cast in front of the tree at SOF.

She died on Dec. 8, 2007, the result of a nasty fall the day after Thanksgiving.

When I woke up last Monday, the anniversary of her death, I thought about her immediately and, for just a brief moment, was overcome with sadness.

But I didn't stay sad for very long because, in my mind's eye, I see Grandma all the time -- during each and every visit to Shield of Faith (formerly Holy Name), Fletcher Field and Dobel Street. She was such a mainstay in the neighborhood, particularly at the church, that you can feel her presence there.

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Reassessing value and worth

According to the latest Harris Poll, only 11% of the population does not believe in God (or a higher being). The rest of us believe to varying degrees and would probably recognize the nonbelievers by the lonely look in their eyes. But do we believe in the next logical step along the path of divinity?

Wouldn't it make sense that this higher being would want us to (at a minimum) regularly acknowledge His presence in our lives and (ultimately) embrace our relationship with Him to the utmost as we go about our daily living?

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The perfect headline

The San Francisco Examiner headline was fitting the day after terrorists took down the towers and killed thousands in this country.

In my opinion, it's just as fitting tonight after Senate Republicans decided to reject Democratic proposals on a compromise auto bailout.

No, this isn't terrorism. But Republican leader Mitch McConnell of Kentucky and his not-so-merry band of southern senators have decided to wage class warfare like we haven't seen in a long time on American soil.

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Another mayor, same old tune

A friend of mine just sent me a link to a story in today's Free Press:

Cockrel eyes aid for lighting, airport

According to the article, Detroit Mayor Ken Cockrel Jr. is trying to take advantage of President-elect Barack Obama's proposed major federal spending package to prop up the economy.

The Free Press says Detroit's wish list includes $106.5 million to acquire land around City Airport for runway improvements as well as upgrades of the facility.

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Circle the wagons

If I were running for mayor of Detroit in February, this would be my slogan:

It's time to circle the wagons and come home.

Michigan's economic descent has strained communities large and small. Just today, this headline ran in The Detroit News: Census shows midsized suburbs reeling from Michigan crisis

So -- as jobs disappear, and the median household income and population decline -- it just makes sense to gather what troops and resources remain and fight the battle to rebuild the area's economy together.

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The Spirits have done it all in one year

Just before dinner this evening, I picked up the television remote and scanned the stations. I stopped on AMC and a 1984 version of "A Christmas Carol."

Albert Finney as Ebenezer Scrooge.

This particular adaptation of Dickens' classic stars George C. Scott as the cantankerous Ebenezer Scrooge. In my opinion, it's not very good. Scott plays the role -- both pre- and postredemption -- in a way-too-subdued manner.

I prefer the 1970 musical version "Scrooge," which stars Albert Finney. His Scrooge is sightly over-the-top but fun to watch throughout. When he says he's "giddy as a schoolboy," he's not kidding.

Whatever version of Dickens' tale I find while channel surfing during the holiday season, I usually stop to watch it, though. I love the story and its lasting lesson, which so many of us have taken to heart this year.

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Can't get over the hump

Detroit's Big Three CEOs should have ridden camels to Washington.

Gunther the camel tries to eat the Christmas star at the park.

And once they got to our nation's capital, they should have taken those camels right into the congressional hearings.

For, based on Saturday's experience at Fletcher Field, there's just something about a camel that lightens the heart and warms the soul -- even in a blizzard. Congress would have given up those bridge loans in no time and then begged to pet the vehicles with humps.

Audio slideshow: A living nativity at Fletcher Field and tree lighting at Mt. Olivet

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Snow, cold and quite a show

Cold, blustery, snowy -- and wonderful.

Watch video of the live nativity.

Saturday's living nativity at Fletcher Field was quite the spectacle, and Gunther certainly lived up to all the hype. Watching the looks on the kids' faces as the camel walked out of the trailer was precious. They all were told he was coming, but I don't think it was real to them until his hooves were on the park turf.

Thanks to all who braved the cold to be a part of it. And keep Shield of Faith minister Imogene Johnson in your prayers. She put so much of herself in this that she ended up in the hospital shortly after the show.

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Last ad

One final reminder to come out to Fletcher Field tomorrow for the living nativity (two shows: 1:30 and 2:30 p.m.) and then join us at Mt. Olivet Cemetery for a children's craft, refreshments and a tree-lighting ceremony at 5 p.m.

Check the blog Saturday night or Sunday morning for pictures and a detnews.com video on the events.

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Gordie the Builder

We busted my 94-year-old grandmother, Mildred Lemanski, out of an assisted-living home on Thanksgiving.

Gordie Lemanski, second left, at the September Fletcher Field barbecue.

Grandma rarely leaves her place anymore. She cannot walk, doesn't have much of a short-term memory, is just safer taking visitors rather than visiting anymore.

But it was Thanksgiving and the family thought it would be best for her to be with the family on this day.

Getting Grandma into a car and then into her favorite chair at my parents' house in Roseville was tricky and involved some planning. The biggest hurdle was keeping Grandma in her wheelchair and somehow maneuvering it into a house that isn't handicap friendly.

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Counting blessings and praying for a donkey

There is a song, "To God Be the Glory," by Andrae Crouch that goes: How can I say thanks for the things you have done for me? Things so undeserved yet you give to prove your love for me. The voices of a million angels can not express my gratitude. All that I am and ever hope to be, I owe it all to Thee. To God be the glory ...

Mary, Chris and Yvette help the kids try on costumes for Saturday's show.

I thought of that song on Thanksgiving as I attended the parade in Detroit and saw all the volunteers with the floats, including my friends and partners Chris and Mary. They had been out late the night before volunteering at a banquet for the Parade Company. Then, after 3 hours of sleep, at 6 a.m., they were downtown dressing and putting on makeup to be clowns. I had never attended the parade before but this was a special one to me as I saw so many people giving back to the community.

Then I went to a women's shelter and, again, was surrounded by people volunteering to feed those in need on Thanksgiving.

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Flu day and an awesome show

I'm down and out in GPW tonight. Chills, aches, pains and many mad dashes to the bathroom. It's freakin' awesome.

But I just wanted to remind everybody about the living nativity Saturday at Fletcher Field. There will be two shows, 1:30 and 2:30 p.m., on the old baseball diamond at the park.

Shield of Faith minister Imogene Johnson and many others -- including the children of the neighborhood, Imogene's puppet ministry and some Holy Name offspring -- have really poured their hearts into this. And there's going to be a 9-foot camel, Gunther, trailing our little wisemen.

It's going to be freakin' awesome.

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What do you say, Holy Name?

A year ago, it was like Christmas every morning from mid December through the end of March.

The Holy Name neighborhood reunion in March 2008 was a sold-out show.

Some days Santa was very good to us; others it felt as if we were on the naughty list. But the anticipation of a big gift was always there -- and I really miss that right now.

I'm talking about ticket sales for the Holy Name neighborhood reunion dinner/dance. We plopped down a $1,500 deposit on a hall, put an ad up on this blog, rented a post-office box and then hoped for the best.

Each day I drove to the St. Clair Shores post office on Mack Ave. to see if anybody was coming to the party. Initially -- because Christmas was coming and word of the reunion hadn't spread -- the orders just trickled in. And I must admit to feeling a little panicky with just about 40 tickets sold as the clock wound down on 2007.

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Surprise, surprise

Life's little surprises.

Another surprise: They dressed me up as a wiseman during a recent rehearsal for Saturday's Christmas play.

A surprise 44th birthday party at Fletcher Field. An unexpected hug from a child at the park -- just because I showed up. A childhood friend donating 20 turkeys to the needy without me even asking him to do it. My middle child Shaun, who is shy as can be, volunteering to lead the opening prayer before a Christmas play rehearsal at Shield of Faith. An old Navy buddy from Arkansas who I haven't talked with in 17 years calling to tell me that he reads this blog and prays for us.

I love this stuff. Honestly, it's what keeps me going. And I've found the more I put myself out there, get involved, the more surprises seem to come my way -- even though it was never my intention to reap any benefit from fixing up the park.

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But for the grace of God ...

For more than two decades now, my father's Thanksgiving blessing before the grand meal has typically been a grocery list of thank-yous.

The kids prepare for Saturday's Christmas play at Fletcher Field.

Almost all of my extended family came from humble beginnings and started their lives in Detroit -- not far Fletcher Field. But through a lot of hard work -- and God's grace -- the Happys and Lemanskis and Stewarts have spent most of the past 20-something years well above the poverty line.

On Thursday, Dad's words were very different than they have been in ages. For unemployment, foreclosure, massive downsizing, diminishing 401Ks, uncertainty and fear had come to Thanksgiving dinner at Ma Happy's house for the first time since Dobel Street.

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Do they feel loved?

During the past year, I’ve been blessed with the chance to hob nob with children at both ends of the economic spectrum - those who regularly eat from $1,000 plates to 99¢ value meals. But, when the china and wrappers are cleared, the million dollar question remains, “Do they feel loved?”

These encounters, from sitting on a blanket with a bunch of kids at Flethers to a tuxedo-donned evening at the Hob Nobble Gobble, have confirmed that outward appearances portraying poverty or wealth do not truly convey the overall quality of someone’s life or what lies within their heart.

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Thankful for those fleeting moments

So what am I thankful for on this day?

First, I thank God for all of you who feel this is worthwhile enough to read. Also for your kind words, your friendship, your generosity, your spirit, your love. Nearly every single one of you has played a role in our ability to unite and rebuild.

Then there's this -- a fleeting moment that totally made my year:

Pumpkins from Edith's garden.

It's a perfect late September evening at Fletcher Field. Even though the calendar is closing in on October and the sun is beginning its decent, jeans and a sweatshirt are comfortable attire. Some are even wearing shorts and T-shirts.

My wife, Shannon, and daughter, Amanda, are in the playground area of the park. Shannon is pushing Amanda and some of the neighborhood children on the swings. Laughter, lots of it, can be heard coming from the vicinity.

My oldest son, Louis, is engaged in a highly-spirited game of touch football on the southeast end of the park. As usual, Bob Walmsley is running the show. Jon Morgan is doing his best to look like an athlete -- although, as usual, he's failing miserably. Everybody in the game looks like they're having a ball.

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The V-Fence at Fletcher Field

When I first went back into Fletcher Field in June 2007, most of the original fencing around the park was either completely gone, fallen or in the process of coming down.

The V-Fence at Fletcher Field.

Years of undergrowth had taken its toll on the barrier around the park, and we eventually removed what remained of the fence along Mt. Olivet and Gilbo after the brush was chopped down.

Except for the 8-foot portion of chain-link on Mt. Olivet, near the playground equipment. That part of fence was salvageable and remains in place today -- along with a new barrier on Gilbo and a partial one down Mt. Olivet that the city put up this past summer.

After hearing a story Sunday at Duggan's in Royal Oak, I'm very happy the 8-foot section on Mt. Olivet still stands -- because the storytellers say it's a monument to perhaps the park's most-beloved figure.

According to neighborhood historians David Piner, Ken Resmer, Dennis Wisniewski and David Macker, the 8-foot fence arrived at the park in the late 1960s thanks to the legendary Frank Verbanac, Mr. V., who worked for the Detroit Parks and Recreation Department and ran youth programs at Fletcher Field for a number of years through the early 1970s.

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Membership has its perks

Bob Walmsley drove by me yesterday on Dobel Street and later said I looked like the Pied Piper. I guess I probably did.

Me and my brother, Brian, when we were kids on Dobel.

It was just me and about a dozen of the kids from the neighborhood, making our way from Fletcher Field to Shield Faith for some hot dogs and the world's best chili, which was lovingly prepared by Jonathan Morgan's significant other, Valerie Moreno.

During our little walk, the children giggled when I showed them the tree in my childhood backyard, told them I fell out of it at least three times that I can remember. I also pointed out to them where Grandma and Grandpa Happy used to live. One of the little girls with me said that some of her friends live there now.

I then got an overwhelming feeling brought on by the very real connection I have with the children -- for that matter, everybody who lives in the neighborhood today.

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Bing's neighborhood plan

My vision includes creating several neighborhood projects that provide both a future for our current citizens, and creates an impetus for those who once lived here to come back home. -- Detroit mayoral candidate Dave Bing

Have I got a neighborhood for you, Mr. Bing.

It's a bit of a fixer-upper, but it has a really nice park. There's also an empty but serviceable school building and a beat-up gymnasium that used to be the envy of nearly every school in Detroit.

There's an airport nearby, but it's rarely used anymore. And -- for a myriad of reasons -- reality tells me it likely never will turn into the profitable gem city officials once hoped for.

I see that you're talking about making Detroit a little greener. Wouldn't that airport be a wonderful piece of property for a windmill farm?

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Love is all we need

I've used the word "complex" a number of times to describe our work in and around Fletcher Field.

Former Fletcher Field stalwarts David Piner, Ken Resmer, Dennis Wisniewski and David Macker at Duggan's in Royal Oak on Sunday.

But there was nothing complex for me about Sunday, when I spent the majority of the day with the kids in the old neighborhood and then the night at a bar in the 'burbs with adults who grew up with me on and around Dobel Street.

We must be doing something right here because, in both instances, I was received with genuine affection.

Life is good when kids cheer your arrival at a park on Detroit's east side in the afternoon, then 50-somethings greet you with hearty handshakes and hugs at a trendy drinking hole in Royal Oak later in the day.

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Turkey Bowl II

Last year we tried to organize a touch football game at Fletcher Field on Thanksgiving itself, which didn't go too well. I think too many folks were watching the parade, the Lions and spending time with family to make it out to the park.

This year, we've decided to play the game the Sunday before Turkey Day -- this coming Sunday.

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Big Three turkeys talk; turkeys for the neighborhood secured

A couple of final thoughts on the bridge loans for the domestic auto industry:

-- Nardelli, Wagoner and Mulally are the wrong people to be the voices for Joe the Autoworker. Geez, these guys make Bush look good. They are so far disconnected from the people they employ on the line, N-W-M could not communicate to Congress and the American people that we're fighting for our very lives in Detroit and throughout the Midwest.

-- Because of this, I fully support the lawmakers' decision to force the auto companies to present a plan by Dec. 2 for restructuring their businesses. I wouldn't trust these guys to do the right thing with $25 billion either.

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What's Alabama got against Detroit?

For the second time this week, a politician from Alabama made want to jump through the television screen on Wednesday.

Bachus

Rep. Spencer Bachus, R-Ala., ranking member of the House Financial Services Committee, is on my naughty list this Christmas season. Hell, in my opinion, he's public enemy No. 1 in Detroit.

"The Big Three stands as emblems of the American dream and they have been an integral part of the American economy for generations," Bachus said, adding however that the bailout "raises fairness issues, does not solve the problem... and is not the American way.

"The American people have bailout fatigue. We need an exit strategy from the string of bailouts."

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Sunshine gang

There are certain people who walk into a dimly-lit room and, suddenly, everybody needs sunglasses.

For me, it's the opposite. When I walk into a room occupied by a certain group of people, I often go from glum to glow.

Putting together the baskets.

It happened again yesterday evening at Shield of Faith. I was coming off a long day at the office, followed by a long night at work. All I wanted was a hot dinner, a glass of wine and a warm bed. But I had made a commitment at the church and went straight there after leaving The Detroit News around 7 p.m.

Friends of Fletcher Field and Shield of Faith were putting together Thanksgiving baskets for people in the neighborhood who need a lift this holiday season. As soon as I entered the basement of the church's activity building, formerly the Holy Name convent, I got a lift.

These people, who have become like a second family to me during the past year, are simply amazing. Their smiles, energy, can-do attitudes -- they inspire me to be the best person I can be, make me truly live up to my last name.

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Detroit deserves auto loans

The question of whether to rescue Detroit's Big Three is one that has my blood boiling these days.

Look, just like the fat-cat financial institutions Congress decided to help, the auto industry is far from perfect. I found this little gem in a Detroit News story last week about how-do-we-forge-ahead meetings held by Ford's best and brightest:

With gasoline prices falling, some argued that Ford should abandon its costly plan to retool North American truck factories to produce smaller, more fuel-efficient cars from Europe.

No wonder they're in trouble.

Still, that doesn't mean the industry should be allowed to fail -- not when Uncle Sam already said yes to saving the suits in the financial industry.

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Finding my grandfather in River Rouge

In honor of Veteran's Day and my grandfather’s recent passing, I decided last week to investigate some of his past.

My grandfather, Robert F. Wagensomer, after returning from the Korean War

My grandfather, a veteran of World War II and the Korean War, was never a man who revealed the details of his life, and, accordingly, I didn’t know much about his youth. Grandpa was a great storyteller, but the problem was that he told two stories over and over. One was about how he was once a great baseball player, and the other was about his experience as a military policeman in Japan.

After some Veteran's Day reflection on him and his service, I decided to see what other stories about him that I could discover.

Grandpa grew up in River Rouge, and according to his discharge papers, lived there until at least 1946. After that, he lived in Lincoln Park. After some digging through paperwork and old love letters my grandmother had sent him, I finally found his address and some photos of him during that era.

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El Central - Mexicantown's community newspaper

Standing inside the courtyard of El Club Mexicantown Fiesta Center at 4114 W. Vernor Highway, in southwest Detroit’s Mexicantown, one feels as though they are in old Mexico.

Networks of ivy grow up exposed brick walls and a variety of flowers planted from seed seem to pop out from everywhere among scattered decorations and ornaments that were saved from the trash.

One of the barriers of the garden, a fence with barbed wire wrapped around the top of it, however, reminds visitors of the realities of the surrounding urban area.

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River Rouge, MI

Kindness is often overlooked and underrated. However, when entering an unfamiliar area, it’s the first thing we wish for and the last thing we expect.

In trying to decide on a community to cover, I researched different areas of Detroit, both online and on foot. The first things I read and heard were disparaging. I even read a post on an online board that said, “Just to be safe, stay north of M-59.” Safe was the one constant word I came across.

"How safe is it?"

"It's not very safe there."

"It's safe if you act like you belong."

It came to be that the very word "safe" no longer had a definite meaning. After so much repetition, it sounded ridiculous.

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Clintondale goes down fighting

Croswell-Lexington 27, Clintondale 26.

The thing that has kept me a sports nut for so many years is that the games inspire me -- seeing athletes playing their guts out, leaving it all on the field, rising above their talent level.

I saw that from both teams on the gridiron at Clintondale High School tonight.

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Weekend reminders

The blog's home team, Clintondale High School, plays host to Croswell-Lexington in a regional championship football game Friday at 7 p.m. Clintondale is located at 35200 Little Mack, Clinton Twp., 48035.

All are welcome to attend Monday's Friends of Fletcher Field meeting at the Shield of Faith activity building, formerly the Holy Name convent, at 7 p.m. We will be putting together the Thanksgiving baskets for distribution in the neighborhood on Nov. 23. We will also discuss the Dec. 6 living nativity at Fletcher Field.

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'Bowling for Dollars' flashback and the Rotary Club

"Bowling for Dollars."

Bob Allison

It was my favorite game show as a kid, watching casual bowlers attempt to string strikes together for prizes. The more strikes in a row, the bigger the prizes.

Bob Allison, who had a voice made for radio, was the host of the show, which took place at Thunderbowl Lanes in Allen Park. It was broadcast on WDIV Channel 4 around 7 p.m., if memory serves me correct, just before "The Muppet Show" -- another favorite of mine.

I hadn't seen or heard from Mr. Allison since the heyday of "Bowling for Dollars" in the 1970s -- that is, until yesterday.

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Highland Park residents on Highland Park

While cruising down Woodward Avenue on my way to Highland Park, I happily sang along with the lyrics to the song "Paradise" by Madonna.

Before I left for my first visit to Highland Park, people warned me not to go. I had always passed through the city but never went in it, and I chose this city because I thought it would be interesting to see how it really is.

When I entered the city, I slowly ceased my singing. I started to get tense, and I became really serious. I saw groups of men hanging out in front of homes, grass that looked like it hadn’t been cut for months, and abandoned buildings that looked eerie.

All I could think was what did I get myself into? I felt out of my element. I'm not familiar with neighborhoods like this. I don’t know what to expect. I began to doubt myself. Maybe I shouldn’t have picked this area.

However, I believed that I should give this community a try for some reason.

As I looked around, I wondered what did the residents think about their own community? How would they describe Highland Park?

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Fractions away

Seven hundred billion dollars ($700,000,000,000) – POOF - from the taxpayer's pockets, and perhaps gone just as quickly as the federal bailout plan is adopted. At the same time, Detroit's school district fights to keep from being taken over by the state.

For a mere fraction of a fraction of that sum, the Detroit Public School system could be rescued as well. For a fraction more the finest accountants and sociologists in the land could be contracted to plot a new course. Their goal would be achieving long term stability.

The children of Detroit, and in turn, society, are getting the short end of the stick in this bailout deal.

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Celebration time

Gunther will join us at the park on Dec. 6.

The following was just sent to me by Shield of Faith minister Imogene Johnson. From what I've witnessed during the past year, Imogene certainly has a direct line to the Big Guy. Among many other things, when the rest of Metro Detroit was being battered by a fall storm Oct. 26, Imogene's prayers for a blue sky over Fletcher Field were answered. I'm not kidding; it was like there was blue bubble over the park.

Now another one of Imogene's prayers have been answered. There will be a camel, Gunther, at Fletcher Field next month for a living nativity scene. And Gunter apparently talks. This is the transcript she sent me after her conversation with Gunther:

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Thanksgiving baskets

Times are certainly tough in Metro Detroit.

The Big Three as we know it is dying. Unemployment is skyrocketing. Banks are foreclosing on houses in record numbers. More of us have joined the ranks of the poor.

Hard luck's blow is destined to feel even more severe during the holiday season, because there is less to go around; traditional givers will be on the receiving end in 2008.

Friends of Fletcher Field and Shield of Faith Church are hoping to soften the blow in the neighborhood around the park by distributing Thanksgiving baskets on Nov. 23. We have teamed up with a suburban school to take donations of nonperishable food items -- plus we received boxes of food during the barbecue, tree planting and Halloween events at the park.

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The Virginia Park neighborhood, in Detroit

My name is Stephanie Zerweck, and I am covering Virginia Park in Detroit this semester.

Walking from 3rd St. & Philadelphia, around the Virginia Park area, back towards Wayne State campus a few weekends ago, beautiful flowers were everywhere, especially in the community gardens within the neighborhood.

It was a beautiful day, and a young girl set the tone, with light, airy intonations, as she practiced her flute.

However, back on Woodward, this main street was and is infested with trash - in the grass, meshed into fences, around the Burger King on Seward and on the edges of the local Methodist church’s lawn - almost everywhere.

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Southwest Detroit and Mexicantown

My name is Anthony Minne, and I am covering Southwest Detroit, including Mexicantown.

Driving southw/southwest along Michigan Ave., heading out of downtown Detroit, one first sees historic Corktown, with its cobblestone streets and strong history of Irish communities.

But as you head further out of town, the landscape quickly changes. More of the storefronts here are boarded up and the city's former train station rises up to greet you, a monstrous structure that is falling apart before your eyes.

It makes you think the community is crumbling and wonder what caused it to get this way. Take a left at the train station, though, on W. Vernor Ave., and after driving by the station and through a dark tunnel under the remnants of its railroad tracks, the area quickly turns into a burgeoning community, filled with local restaurants grocers and community centers that radiate with human energy.

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Worshiping in Brush Park

My name is Carrie Cunningham, and I am working in Brush Park in Detroit this semester, just north of downtown along Woodward.

The Ecumenical Theological Seminary in Brush Park, at 2930 Woodward, is an interfaith seminary that specializes in training people to minister in cities. It also is used by the Resurrection Christian Center for services. Here is an idea of what worshiping there is like:

The congregation was mesmerized. In an authentic and consoling voice, the Reverend Tony Henderson gave a sermon at the Resurrection Christian Center’s Sunday service, held at Brush Park’s Ecumenical Theological Seminary.

Born and raised in a single parent home in Birmingham, Alabama, Henderson is versed in the tenets of the Bible and the inspiring ways of Jesus. He spoke about respecting God’s will and resisting selfishness and narrow-mindedness.

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Clintondale, our home team, wins district title

Clintondale avenged its 42-38 loss to Marine City earlier this season with a 49-41 victory tonight in the high school state football playoffs.

Clintondale (10-1) secured its first district title since 2003 and snapped the defending Division 4 state champion Marine City's 23-game winning streak.

Maurice Bushner led Clintondale, rushing for 258 yards and three touchdowns.

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In the park after dark

Jon Morgan and I went to a planning meeting at Shield of Field this evening. Minister Imogene Johnson has secured the animals for a living nativity at Fletcher Field on Dec.6, including a camel. Now we just have to develop a skit, build some props, get some costumes and take care of the other small details.

We then went over to Edith Floyd's house on Mt. Olivet to start to finalize a business plan for the neighborhood tractor. The grant money for the tractor is in the bank already. We simply need to get our ducks in a row before the big purchase is made.

After leaving Edith's, we went to the park to check on the trees. Dennis Wisniewski emailed me recently, advising that the trees should be staked or else they'll grow crooked. So far, they look as straight as when we put them in the ground last month.

A big group of the neighborhood teenagers were out there on the basketball court, including Nikki -- who, let's just say, needs a lot of love.

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Are we there yet?

Some things never change, like the standard question children call out from the backseats of even the most customized cars: "Are we there yet?"

Part of my memory is hazy, but I'd bet that I used to ask that question as we traveled all the way over hill and dale to our bachelor uncle's house near 7 Mile & Dequindre. What stands out in my memory, however, is my first encounter with a young African American girl in the park near my uncle's house.

My Mom usually sent us to the park because my uncle wasn't used to having a bunch of active kids around, which was nothing new. And since children are generally colorblind when it comes to skin, just meeting this new friend would not normally stand out as memorable. But this particular happenstance was a life-changing moment.

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Happy Days

With the last name of Happy, I know a thing or two about the power of words.

That single word, happy, caused me to be picked on, sometimes ruthlessly, all the way through high school.

Today, I'm used to the jokes (there's not one I haven't heard) and have embraced the name. Nobody forgets you when your last name is an adjective -- and one of the seven dwarfs.

Because I was constantly teased and always a little guy, I learned to fight back with my words. To this day, if you decide to verbally joust with me, you're going to lose badly. I will get so far under your skin, you'll leave my presence in a huff -- or decide to punch me in the nose. I learned to dish it out so well, one of my best friends in high school turned on me one night after a couple of serious burns.

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Savor the moment

Shield of Faith minister Imogene Johnson sent me an email this morning after she voted:

At the poll by 6:30 a.m. and out by 7:30 a.m. It was great. I wanted to represent my parents who would have loved this day, so I wore my mom's jacket and had my father's key chain.

No matter who you supported in this presidential election, you have to appreciate the moment. We, as Americans, have moved forward.

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The "Dream" and a Momma 4 Obama

On September 25, 2008, I awoke with anticipation. Barack Obama was having a rally, and I desperately needed to be there. Having missed the last two rallies in Detroit, I decided today was the day.

Martin Luther King, Jr.

The night before I partied like a rock-star, pop-star, and a bass guitarist, and you might have expected me to be lackadaisical this day. But I had been ignited by the mere mention of the name, Obama. So, the boys (Malik and Mi’luan) and I got dressed, skipped breakfast, and headed down to witness the presence of the first successful black Democratic Presidential Candidate. Barack Obama.

Just the night before, we were deciding rather or not we would attend. My son (5) said, "Momma, I love Barack Obama more than I love God." I corrected him and said, "well, no son, you can’t love anybody more than you love God." He said, "Well, I love him more than I love my daddy."

I chuckled, and said okay. I did not oppose that response because it became evident to me how magnificent Obama’s success has been, even to my five year old.

Once we arrived, the line wrapped around the curve from Warren and John R. to Second and Anthony Wayne Drive; while walking to the back of the line, the momentum grew with every step.

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Vote!

Just wanted to make a quick pitch to anyone reading this blog today, regardless of your political or ideological leanings, to go vote.

Government can be a powerful help in rebuilding neighborhoods and fixing Detroit. Parts of the city's government have been a considerable help to us already.

But if we want consistent help, we have to demand that help from government, and our government won't be responsive to our wishes if we don't show them that we will vote, and that we will use our votes to hold them accountable.

It's election day today. Show your elected representatives that you want to be a part of setting their agenda, a partner in deciding where Detroit, Michigan and the country go from here.

Vote!

A call from a Verbanac

When I arrived at the office tonight and checked my telephone messages, I was surprised to hear one from a very familiar name: a Verbanac.

Actually, it was from Steve Verbanac, younger brother of the much beloved Mr. V., Frank Verbanac, who worked for the Detroit Parks and Recreation Department and ran youth programs at Fletcher Field for a number of years through the early 1970s. He died in the 1990s.

I wrote a little bit about Mr. V. last September. The post received nearly 2,000 page views and 34 comments.

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Grosse Pointe Park, MI

My name is Melody Walker, and I am covering Grosse Pointe Park.

The Grosse Pointe Park Trader Joe's

I went shopping last week in GPP because of an assignment given to me in Com 4010 to get to know my community.

I was intimidated by the 2000 United States Census Report, which reported that over half of the households had an income over $80,00 (as a struggling student, mine is considerably less than that).

I have become the journalist I am by disregarding emotions like these, however, and by not concerning myself with my particular marital status, income or socio-economic status.

So, I waltzed along the brick pavement, tried to blend with the city, and visited "Trader Joe's", one of two of the grocery stores in Grosse Point Park.

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You want some blow?

A couple of 12-year-olds offered to sell me cocaine a couple of weeks ago while Val and I were in Washington D.C., and I am having trouble getting it out of my head.

The National Arboretum

Val and I had been to the National Arboretum, on the east side of D.C., just south of New York Ave., and we got a little lost on our way back to our U Street lodgings. We wound our way through some neighborhoods that reminded me a lot of Detroit's. Old houses, not bad, kept as well as they could be, but in need of some work. A beautiful cemetery named Mt. Olivet. Industrial buildings that were still in use, but looked like they could use some work, too.

After about 10 minutes of driving around, we finally righted ourselves and pulled up to two kids standing next to a stop light where we waited to turn and head back toward downtown.

"Hey!" one yelled. "Hey!" I didn't think they were talking to me, but I turned to look. "Hey! You want some blow?"

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Monday Friends of Fletcher Field meeting

My email list for meetings appears to be lacking now, so I hope to reach those of you who are missing from it with this blog post.

Summer's over, but we continue to forge ahead. We have at least two more events planned for the park in 2008, plus some decisions to make about 2009.

So let's meet on Monday, 7 p.m., at my house in Grosse Pointe Woods. Mom is still in a lot of pain because of last week's fall at the park, hence the change in meeting venues.

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Freakin' Frankenstein

It's amazing how far back we can remember things -- and what triggers those very early childhood times.

I was only 4 years old when Mickey Lolich and the Tigers rallied past the Cardinals in the 1968 World Series, but I distinctly remember standing on the front porch of our rental house on Mt. Olivet Street -- a year or so before our move to Dobel -- clanging pots and pans with big wooden spoons following the Game 7 victory in St. Louis.

That particular recollection has seemingly always been with me -- probably because I wore a Tigers cap from pretty much the time of my conception through the present day.

Another very early childhood memory, which manifested itself just last night, must have been more deeply seeded than the one from October 1968. It came to me while my kids were out trick-or-treating with my wife and I was passing out candy on our front porch.

An older child, probably 13 or so, arrived at the foot of my front porch dressed as a teenager would on any other Friday night. The only difference was that a scary Frankenstein mask covered the kid's head.

That was the memory trigger.

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Clintondale earns a rematch

In keeping with the holiday, the blog's home team, the Clinton Township Clintondale Dragons, were frighteningly good tonight.

This is Dragon Country.

Opening the Division 4 football playoffs at home, the Dragons routed the Rams of Madison Heights Lamphere, 40-21.

Daniel Sawicki set a Clintondale record, scoring five touches -- three rushing, one passing and one on an interception return.

The Dragons improved to 9-1 for the season, their only loss coming in heart-breaking fashion at Marine City on Oct. 3. They now have the opportunity to avenge that loss.

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Devil's Night TP'ing with Uncle Bob

During the planning stages for the Holy Name reunion, many of you saw the name and mistook me for my father.

You then asked me about my sister (really my aunt), Mary Jane, and my brother (actually my uncle), Bob. When Bob's name came up, the word crazy usually followed.

Uncle Bob is 60-something these days and remains as crazy as ever.

On a Devil's Night 30 years ago, not long after we moved from Dobel to Roseville, Uncle Bob was in his usual form. He came over after dinner to carry on a tradition we started on Dobel, where we were all neighbors until the mid-1970s: the Halloween eve carving of the jack-o'-lanterns.

It's a tradition I've held onto forever and wherever. I carved pumpkins with fellow sailors on the U.S.S. Cimarron on Oct. 30, 1986. I had a pumpkin carving party with the Towson State University cross country team on Oct. 30, 1995. Work permitting, Oct. 30 is the night I carve pumpkins with my three children.

Back to Oct. 30, 1978, and crazy Uncle Bob. After the pumpkins were gutted, carved and ready for display on Halloween night, Uncle Bob asked me and my brother, Brian, if we wanted to go out for a pizza.

Has a boy ever turned down a pizza and a night out with his crazy uncle?

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A weird postcard arrives

I received a postcard in the mail about a month ago. Oddly enough, it originated at Mt. Olivet Cemetery. Its postmark came from METROPLEX MI 480.

When I picked it up from my office mailbox at The Detroit News, I thought it might be some kind of joke.

I started having second thoughts lately, considering what the postcard said and that there is an effort under way to get some answers from City Airport about the surrounding neighborhood, including Fletcher Field and the reopening of McNichols Road.

The postcard is pictured to your right. You'll also find a link to the larger version below. It reads (in all caps and unsigned):

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Trading places

I've been thinking a lot lately about the 1983 movie "Trading Places," starring Eddie Murphy and Dan Ackroyd.

The movie is a play on the classic nature-versus-nurture theme. Murphy's character, Billy Ray Valentine, is a down-and-out street con artist. Ackroyd's Louis Winthorpe III is a very rich commodities brokerage guru who works for a firm called Duke & Duke.

The proprietors of Duke & Duke, brothers Randolph and Mortimer Duke, make a little wager, $1, based on Mortimer's belief that a well-bred subject will rise to the challenge and riffraff will fail no matter what opportunities are presented to him. The brothers then toss some adversity in Winthorpe's life and give Valentine a couple of breaks. Within days, Winthorpe is on skid row and Valentine is living the high life.

I have met so many people in the neighborhood around Fletcher Field who are good, decent, smart folks and deserve better. A break here or there would certainly change their entire lives, but -- for some reason -- they keep getting dealt unwinnable hands.

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Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold,
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.
-- Robert Frost

The last big hurrah of 2008 at the park. (Photo by Dennis Wisniewski)

Seems like just yesterday we returned to Fletcher Field to fly kites. It was late April, not long after the Holy Name reunion and interfaith service at Shield of Faith. We were all filled with so much energy and hope for a wonderful summer at the park.

Thankfully, most of what we hoped for came true. In fact, we became addicted to the hope each and every Sunday brought with it.

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Treats, trunks and a trip

The weather wasn't so good around Metropolitan Detroit on Sunday.

When people arrived at Fletcher Field for the Treats in Trunks event, many who had to drive from other areas to get to the park talked of traveling through strong winds, heavy rain and even a hail storm.

At the park itself, well, the winds were gusty but the sun was shining brightly -- just like Shield of Faith minister Imogene Johnson and her prayer warriors predicted. Oh, yeah, I think The Big Guy likes what's going on in our little part of Detroit.

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On to the state playoffs

This past Sunday, several players from the Clinton Township Clintondale football team joined us at Fletcher Field to plant shade trees.

Well, in my estimation, that now makes the Clintodale Dragons the blog's home team. And our home team deserves a big round of applause tonight after going on the road and defeating Sterling Heights, 39-27.

Maurice Bushner (169), Michael Delano-Johnson (138) and Daniel Sawicki (100) all rushed for at least 100 yards. Delano-Johnson threw for one touchdown and ran for two more.

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First kiss

Following the conversation with Karen (Grimm) Siadak at the park last Sunday, I've been recalling memories from the old neighborhood and special moments, such as a first kiss.

Recanting your first kiss. OK, who's in? But first we must all pinky-swear to keep it clean. No grand tales of going yard here. Remember, those were the Glory Days -- long before any text messaging menageries.

It sounded all so sweet and innocent when Karen described her experience, but when I stopped to think about my own, I realized that my life has always been so complicated to explain.

How do I define my first experience? That depends:

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Little pumpkins at Fletcher Field on Sunday

Do you remember?

The fall of 1970. Mrs. Schalk's first-grade classroom at Holy Name. We sang "Pumpkin Carols" just before we recessed for the day and then headed home for a night of trick-or-treating all the way from Tumey to Dubay.

I'm certain we also recited the following that day:

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Strong woman

In my book, some people get a free pass.

Karen Siadak, left, returns to Fletcher Field.

They are the ones -- whites and blacks alike -- who suffered life-altering atrocities in the old neighborhood.

They must do and believe what they must do and believe to get through the rest of their lives.

Karen Siadak is one of those people.

I introduced you to her in a blog entry last August. Back in the 70s, Karen worked for the city's recreation department and managed the athletic equipment at Fletcher Playground. Her father, Norman R. Grimm, used to be the co-owner of Grimm's Florist & Greenhouse on Van Dyke, just a few blocks south of Dobel Street. He was murdered at the age of 57, clubbed over the head while making a delivery to Forest Lawn Cemetery, right across the street from his business.

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Reason No. 3

I nearly fell off the sofa.

That was my reaction when my fourth-grader told me why he would be voting for Republican presidential candidate John McCain in a mock election at school.

His first two reasons didn't faze me in the least:

1. He's a war hero.

2. He won't raise taxes.

For a 10-year-old mind, these are solid enough answers to go with McCain.

Then came reason No. 3 -- the one that absolutely stunned me:

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It's all Divine intervention

Sorry to say, I know so little about running. The last time I ran was at Denby High before I heard that varicose veins were hereditary and I switched to biking as my preferred workout. Thankfully, I learned that having nine children (which contributed to my dear Mother's varicose veins more than running) is not hereditary -- even though there is an element of divine intervention there too.

More recently, one of my darling siblings, Mary, is dragging me (half-willingly) to work with her at the Hob Nobble Gobble (I think she just likes saying it). Sounds like a fun event, but this was never on my 'bucket list,' especially since I'm a pronounced Eastsider at heart. However, like a good sister, I've learned that in order to qualify as a Hob Nobble Gobbler, I have to have 25 volunteer hours in by the end of this week. So I've been spending more hours at The Parade Co. (which I never knew before is located in a section of the old Chrysler Lynch Rd. plant) than at Fletcher Field lately.

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'So why do you do it?'

I'm more than a little sore today ... and congested ... and prone to fits of coughing .... and really, really tired.

Marathon mission accomplished.

"So why do you do it?" asked a coworker this morning, referring to running marathons.

The short of it is, I enjoy challenges. If it's too easy, it bores the heck out of me.

Marathons are anything but easy. They challenge every part of your being -- particularly after the 20-mile mark. At that point, your feet and legs become as tender as veal and your arms ache so bad from pumping them, you'd gladly remove them to make the pain go away. That's when you have to start playing mind games with yourself. It's almost like you have to trick your body into every step.

Unless you've experienced the agony of running 25 miles, you'll never understand what it feels like to know there's still 1.2 left to go. It might as well be 50.

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The end of a very long day

What a day: Running a marathon, planting trees at Fletcher Field and then attending a prayer service for Deacon Ray.

A new tree at the park. (Photo by Dennis Wisniewski)

I'm too physically and emotionally spent to go into great detail tonight, but I will give you the highlights:

Thanks to the inspiration of the shirt signed by the children of the Fletcher Field neighborhood I made it through the first 10 miles of the marathon. Thanks to seeing a dear friend, Chris Kempa, standing outside Cobo Arena cheering for me at about 8:30 this morning got me through the next 10 miles. As for the final six, it must have been the thoughts and prayers of all of you.

I was sick and feverish this morning -- my scratchy throat wasn't allergies after all -- yet I ran a personal best 3 hours 50 minutes 34 seconds. Go figure.

Audio slideshow: Planting shade trees at Fletcher Field

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On your mark ...

Well, it's 5:23 a.m. and I'm getting ready to leave for the city. In less than two hours, I'll begin my four-hour run -- a little over 26 miles -- for the children of the neighborhood around Fletcher Field.

If you want to see how I'm doing, I've been told Big Brother, err GPS, will be watching and you will be able to follow my progress somewhere at:

http://www.detroitfreepressmarathon.com/

My bib number is 2705. If at any time I appear to have stopped, please send help. :0)

God and knees willing, I'll see you all at the park this afternoon (2 p.m.) for our tree-planting with Greening of Detroit and a barbecue. Imogene says to bring 5-gallon buckets for water if you got 'em.

The truth hurts

"Michael, please tell 'em the truth!"

That's how the social intercourse ended this afternoon, and why I'm now more determined than ever to help change the tortured face of the neighborhood around Fletcher Field.

Can you handle the truth? I know I'm struggling with it.

The conversation started by chance while I was passing out Fletcher Field event fliers on Almont Street with Shield of Faith minister Imogene Johnson.

About three quarters of the way down the street, just west of Gilbo, we met a woman as she carried her groceries from her car to her front porch. She appeared to be well into her 60s and later told us she will turn 70 next September.

Imogene handed her a flier, which got the two of them talking because the woman said she has several grandchildren in the neighborhood who play at the park.

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R.I.P. Deacon Raymond Lubien

It's with a heavy heart that I must tell you that Holy Name stalwart Deacon Raymond Lubien has died.

Fr. Nicholas Zukowski, left, and Deacon Raymond Lubien at the March 30 interfaith service at Shield of Faith.

Deacon Lubien was a friend to many and instrumental in putting together the interfaith service at Shield of Faith, formerly Holy Name, on March 30. He also spoke briefly during the event and made the final announcements.

The following is a memo put out by Deacon Michael J. McKale -- Director for Deacons, Office for Clergy Life and Ministry -- about Deacon Lubien's passing:

Our brother in the Lord, Deacon Raymond Lubien, entered eternal life on Monday, October 13, 2008, at the age of 66.

Deacon Lubien was born on January 8, 1942 and ordained to the permanent diaconate for the Archdiocese of Detroit on June 8, 1979. He served as a deacon at St. Bartholomew (now St. Bartholomew -- St. Rita Parish), Detroit, from 1990 to the present. Previously, he served at Holy Name and St. Ignatius Parishes, Detroit, both now closed.

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You can run for inspiration

I'm in. I inquired this afternoon about space availability in Sunday's Free Press Marathon and was told I can sign up at the Saturn Health and Fitness Expos on Friday at Cobo Arena.

The kids at the park signed a shirt for me, which I will wear during the race.

Physically I feel fine, too. The blister on the ball of my right foot is nearly healed and my scratchy throat is gone. Must have been allergies.

So what do I hope to accomplish by running the marathon for the children of the Fletcher Field neighborhood? Well, I hope to inspire you to get involved. Notice I said inspire, not guilt -- the primary tool of the nuns back in the day at Holy Name.

Guilt does nothing but mask the real issue. A wife can guilt a husband into quiting smoking for the sake of the family, but the underlying reasons for his smoking remain.

Inspiration gets people off their couches for all the right reasons -- because they care and they want to do it.

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Highland Park, MI

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me." Psalm 23:4 NIV

Just mention to your friends and family members that you will be spending a semester of school getting to know the residents of Highland Park, Michigan, and they will incite fears in you before you even take one step into the city.

"There’s a lot of crime there," they say. "It’s not safe."

While this statement must have some credibility, no one is ever completely safe in any neighborhood. Even if all of the hype about the city of Highland Park being a high crime area is true, no one ever states exactly what type of criminal activity is prevalent.

Read more! »

Welcome to Balduck

My girlfriend, Meghan, and I headed out for a familiar drive to Balduck, only this time I wouldn’t be playing softball (I play in a league at Balduck Park), and most unfortunately, we would not be stopping at Cal’s for a frosty, post-game beer.

No, today I was on "assignment".

Heading east on 94 and quickly approaching our exit, Meghan posed an interesting question, "So what are we doing? I mean, what are you looking for?"

I answered honestly, with full disclosure: I had no idea. My plan hadn't escalated past turning the ignition and pressing the gas. I only knew two things: there was a story, and I needed to find it. Unfortunately that knowledge only got us slightly past 8-mile.

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Still trying to make a point

Just got off the telephone with Jim (Kustarz) Morey and decided to make one more attempt to get a point across that is crucial to keeping our effort around Fletcher Field moving forward.

In case you haven't read this blog from start to finish -- and I can't say I blame you if you haven't -- Morey and I have been friends since kindergarten, and we fought back then, too. This isn't really a fight, though. It's more on me, my inability to clearly put in writing what I want to get across to people. So here's my last attempt before I turn the blog back to lighter subjects.

Jim and I agree on a lot of things, particularly his point that this neighborhood initiative is complicated -- even more so than we initially thought because of the continuing City Airport saga. But we have managed to make progress because the Friends of Fletcher Field coalition -- blacks and whites, urbanites and suburbanites, young and old -- understands that what led to the demise of the neighborhood and how we can rebuild it are incredibly complicated issues.

We also understand that, at the end of the day, we cannot allow blow-hard mouthpieces -- people who speak in oversimplified sound bites, hyperbole and absolutes and have their own agendas -- on the right and the left to get in the way of trying to improve the quality of life for children living in a neighborhood so blighted it shakes you to the very core to look at it.

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No need for greed

With people drowning everywhere and screaming for a government life ring, defending unbridled capitalism isn't very popular today.

Still, that didn't stop some of you from emailing me about my criticism of the fairly recent trend of pay-for-air at gas stations.

Here's a tiny sample:

How about talking to the service station/fuel station owners and ask how much electricity it takes to run the compressor? How many high pressure hoses have been stolen or damaged? How many pressure fittings are replaced each year and at what cost? And how much does it take to keep the air pump area free of litter from those who dump car trash while airing tires? ... Greedy Capitalists! Why doesn't the Detroit News just give away the paper?

The problem isn't only about paying for compressed air. It's the million-dollar question: When is it enough?

And the typical answer in the United States: NEVER.

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Beginning to branch out

I have heard and read a number of times that people wish we'd look into more neighborhoods, that they like what we're doing, but wish we would go to the home they still think fondly of.

Happy and I started this blog to see what we could do if we went back to where he grew up and tried to help those living there now. We (well, mostly he) then shared our progress online and encouraged others from the old hood to come back and get involved, too.

We always hoped that it would catch on, and that we'd be able to try something similar all over the city.

As our work has picked up steam in Happy's neighborhood, we have been working behind the scenes to start expanding what we are doing, and today we are ready (well, as ready as we'll ever be) to start gradually reaching out to include other parts of the city.

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Air patrol

If I had a dime for every minute I spent sitting on that banana seat or mile I rode that imitation black-and-orange Schwinn Sting Ray through the old neighborhood, I'd have quite a nest egg to help my family get through these tough economic times.

Riding bikes back in the day was as much a pastime as baseball. A final destination didn't even have to be part of the itinerary. We just rode for hours on end until our little legs were too tired to pedal.

An avid runner, I don't ride a bike very often anymore. In fact, I pretty much quit peddling cold turkey once I got my first car -- a cherry red '72 Plymouth Fury that guzzled gas like a drunk downs his Budweisers -- back in 1980.

Today -- with a big blister on the ball of my right foot and the Free Press Marathon looming in one week -- I took an old Huffy stored in the back of my garage out for a spin as a source of exercise. I must say, all that peddling took me back to a simpler time and I really enjoyed the ride for a while.

Then it all went flat.

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All systems mostly a go for the marathon

OK, I completed 16 miles today -- from my house near Mack and Old 8 Mile Road, to Lakeshore, to Detroit and then back -- in 2 hours, 15 minutes.

At that pace (8 minutes 26 seconds per mile) I would finish the Free Press Marathon in a respectable in 3 hours 41 minutes.

I should have worn better socks and got a nasty blister on the ball of my right foot, which could be problematic at the marathon distance next week. My throat was also a bit scratchy this morning, meaning my allergies have flared up or a cold is on the horizon. Being sick also is not a good when you're attempting to run 26.21875 miles.

Read more! »

Running for the neighborhood kids

When I crossed the finish line of the New York City Marathon two years ago, I vowed at that very moment it would be the final time I covered 26 miles 385 yards without the aid of a vehicle.

There was absolutely nothing left in my tank. If I hadn't been surrounded by thousands of other runners, I would have collapsed right then and there in front of the Tavern on the Green in Central Park.

New York was my third completed marathon; my 42-year-old knees were getting cranky; I had nothing left to prove as a runner. I was ready to become a casual jogger.

Today -- with the agony brought on by that early November run through NYC's five boroughs a somewhat faded memory -- I'm seriously considering doing the Detroit Free Press Marathon in less than two weeks.

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Hawkish behavior brings back the hawks

Our first Reading in the Park theme was "things that fly." The idea was to read and discuss topics that were relevant to the children's everyday lives in the neighborhood.

Thinking and praying about it took me way back to my lazy days of summer in the park, watching planes take off into the wild blue yonder. It warmed my heart when one young lady shared her dream of becoming a pilot when she grows up.

But when another youngster stated that the airport was going to buy her house, my inner-child's heart did a crash landing. Out of the mouths of babes, here I stood 40-something years after those same words had come out of my adolescent mouth.

How could it be possible that we are handing this unfinished business over from one generation to the next?

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President Kennedy in the old neighborhood

Last December, I wrote about a presidential visit to the old neighborhood in 1966, when Lyndon B. Johnson -- the 36th U.S. president -- and 18 senators and two representatives attended funeral services for Senator Patrick V. McNamara at Holy Name of Jesus Church and Mt. Olivet Cemetery.

Four years before that, and a little less than two years before I was born, another U.S. president, John F. Kennedy, came through the neighborhood en route to a speech at the Sheraton-Cadillac Hotel in Detroit. Some of you have told me stories about standing near the airport and waving at President Kennedy's caravan as it drove by.

Below is the speech President Kennedy made that day, Oct. 6, 1962, nearly 46 years ago to the day. It's interesting to note how much remains the same and how drastically other things have changed.

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Airport hearing and hidden agendas

"Hidden agendas."

That was an off-the-cuff summation made by Delbert Brown, City Airport director, during a Detroit City Council hearing today on the airport and the reopening of McNichols Road, according to a number of people who attended the meeting called by councilwoman Alberta Tinsley-Talabi’s office.

Brown reportedly made the comment to the various groups who were there to question airport policy, particularly as it relates to how it has affected/will affect the neighborhoods surrounding the airport.

Look, Mr. Brown, I can assure you that -- at least the people I know who attended the hearing -- were there to achieve one absolutely transparent goal:

TAKING BETTER CARE OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD AROUND THE AIRPORT AND THE CHILDREN WHO LIVE THERE.

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Bad haiku; awesome picture

Seeing things as dark colored glasses
Too youthful to see
anything but dark glasses
Too smart to be old

For the first time since early May, there was a chill in the air on a Sunday at Fletcher Field. But seeing my daughter interact and play with one of the children of the neighborhood at least warmed up my heart.

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How 'bout them Dragons

Congratulations to the Clintondale Dragons, who went toe-to-toe with the defending state champion Marine City Mariners tonight in St. Clair, Mich.

As a former columnist for CBS SportsLine and a longtime fan of every sport that includes a ball, I've covered a lot of football, including Peyton Manning's first game with the Indianapolis Colts and Barry Sander's last with the Lions. But I can honestly say tonight's game was one of the most remarkable I have ever watched from the grandstands.

Clintondale, whose defense is coached by Fletcher Field regular Bob Walmsley, led by 10 points with about 3 minutes to play. Marine City rallied, though, and scored on a disputed pass reception in the back of the end zone with 3 seconds left.

Final score: Marine City 42, Clintondale 38.

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Fall colors tour at Mt. Olivet, treats at Fletcher

My wife, Shannon, thinks it's kinda creepy. She doesn't completely get the connection Mt. Olivet Cemetery has with the surrounding community -- particularly during the Holy Name era.

I explained to her today before a meeting at the cemetery what Mt. Olivet meant to me and many others who grew up in the area -- that it was a safe and peaceful place to ride our bikes, learn how to drive a car, search for chestnuts used in Cub Scouts craft projects, and even to release a pet garter snake in the spring of 1975.

Shannon still doesn't get it.

For those of you who do, you'll be excited to learn that the cemetery will be open up for guided walking tours to see the fall colors on Sunday, Oct. 26, from 1-3 p.m. The tours will be held in conjunction with our second annual Halloween event at Fletcher Field: Treats in Trunks. That event will take place from 3 until 6 p.m. at the park.

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A Christmas camel

Ever catch yourself doing or saying something you never thought you would?

Because of this blog and our work in the neighborhood around Fletcher Field, I do all the time now -- even today when I searched Google for "what you need to know about camels."

Did you know that if a camel becomes spooked you should just stay calm?

According to wikiHow: "The camel will eventually stop. In fact, a runaway camel will usually regain its composure and slow down pretty quickly. Until it does, you need to keep your wits about you."

So why do I need to know this?

Well, if Shield of Faith minister Imogene Johnson gets her way -- which she usually does -- there will be at least one camel at Fletcher Field on Saturday, Dec. 6, as part of a live nativity scene.

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Seasons change and so did I

I know it's got to be a mid-life thing, perhaps with a bit of Pisces thrown in, but I'm becoming accustomed to viewing things from two dimensions.

There's going home to the old neighborhood of the past now and then there's going home to the old neighborhood of the now past.

There's tending to the long-neglected physical needs of Fletcher Field at this time and then there's reminiscing over the good times and (as Michael recently described) reminiscing over the tragic times of yesteryears.

There's spending time revitalizing the arrangement of a scenic centerpiece in the now scant community and then there's replaying in our minds the painful transition from a friendly, tree-lined community at the prime of fertility to a tragic, war-torn shell where many human lives have been spent.

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Study this

Five of us spent about four hours Monday at a Federal Aviation Administration office in Romulus, combing through old City Airport files to further educate ourselves about what led up to the closure of McNichols Road and what the future plans are for the airfield and the surrounding neighborhood.

What struck me most was the amount of airport studies that have been done throughout the years. Hell, I bet you can attribute the death of at least two trees to the paper needed to put those studies in print.

I guess the not-so-funny thing is that there's been talk of at least one more study before anything can be done about reopening McNichols.

Enough with the studies already.

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Tragic endings

Thank goodness some of us turned out OK.

That's all I can think about right now after a conversation that started around a picnic table at Fletcher Field yesterday afternoon and continued during a meeting tonight at my parents' house in Roseville.

For the most part, this is how the back-and-forth went:

Do you remember so and so? He ended up in prison for selling drugs on Dubay.

Or what about her? She turned to prostitution and turned up dead in a dumpster one day.

Or what about that guy with the suped-up Torino? Died in a wreck speeding down French Road.

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Expect nothing but exceptional at Fletcher Field

Accepting mediocrity. We see it everywhere: at school, on the job, on the playing field, in Washington. It's sad to say, but mediocrity has become the new excellence in this country.

Lining a gridiron at the park.

Except at Fletcher Field.

Everywhere you look at the park, you see exceptional -- from people who don't earn a dime or personally reap the benefits of their work.

It wasn't enough for Lee and Bob Walmsley to have an adequate baseball diamond at the park; they've made it the best in the city -- well, beside Comerica Park.

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Lost kitty, dumb rule

I saw the signs go up all over my Grosse Pointe Woods neighborhood about a month ago.

From every tree, street-light stanchion and telephone pole hung a picture of a tabby named Bob and a message from his young owner saying that her cat was missing and she missed him dearly.

Not long after the posters went up, I witnessed a GPW code enforcer taking them down. I guess it's against the rules to put up signs on public infrastructure in the hoity-toity Pointes.

Seeing the code cop do this really ticked me off. I could picture the little girl, probably in tears, working tirelessly for hours on the posters with her parents. I could envision her attempt at a smile as she posted the signs, daring to hope that this effort would help bring her kitty home.

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Pick up the pace

It's been an interesting week to say the least.

It started with a bear hug and a thank-you from Detroit councilwoman Brenda Jones.

It continued with news that councilwoman Alberta Tinsley-Talabi's office is organizing a hearing on City Airport and the reopening of McNichols Road.

It took a bizarre twist when we learned that the neighborhood around Fletcher Field would soon have its own tractor.

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A police chase and an important message

By all accounts, despite its threatening appearance, the neighborhood around Fletcher Field is as safe as its been in 20 years.

Paul Weekes, proprietor of Otto Schemansky Sons Monuments on the corner of Van Dyke and Nuernberg, no longer carries a loaded pistol on his hip.

"I still have it," Weekes said as we stood outside the 115-year-old business a few weeks ago. "But it's in my desk drawer, unloaded. I don't need it anymore."

Weekes went on to say that the situation was entirely different a decade ago, when crack cocaine was still in its heyday and he carried the gun -- loaded -- with him at all times.

"Ten years ago we couldn't have stood out here and had this conversation without finding trouble," Weeks said.

Others who have lived in the neighborhood for at least the last two decades tell a similar story.

"The locusts have gone," a longtime resident of the area told me at Fletcher Field last November. "They came in fast, devoured what was here and have moved on."

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...it's whether you play the game

All we had was a ball, and then some make-shift bases. We had been talking it over for awhile -- what could we organize for the younger children on sports Sundays (while the older set played baseball, basketball or football)? Limited equipment, different ages and skill levels were the gist of discussions, but the desire to keep things simple, and a bunch of enthusiastic children, resulted an impromptu game of kickball and another enjoyable afternoon in the park.

In my amusement, as a couple of young cat-and-mouse competitors rounded their way around the bases -- slightly out of bounds –- actually they were rounding the garden, which was way out of bounds –- a couple of thoughts crossed my mind:

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Neighborhood tractor grant secured

I just got a telephone call at home from Jon Morgan, who heard from Edith Floyd earlier today.

The Presbyterian Committee on the Self-Development of People has approved the grant proposal for the purchase of the neighborhood tractor. Time to make a call on John Deere.

Edith is already going full-tilt to line up contracts for snow removal and mowing with the city, and for plowing neighborhood gardens with Greening of Detroit, and Mark Gracely, director of Mt. Olivet Cemetery, met with her this morning to help put together the list of what exactly she will buy with the initial grant disbursement.

It is exciting to see plans already beginning to fall into place now that Edith has the funding for the tractor. She didn't waste any time lining up the purchase and the business she hopes will follow.

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Going yard at Fletcher

I'm watching the final game at Yankee Stadium tonight and the announcers are speculating on who will hit the last home run at "The House That Ruth Built."

Not surprisingly, it was Babe Ruth himself who walloped the first home run at the now condemned ballpark in the Bronx.

It got me to thinking about the baseball diamond at Fletcher Field and all the homers that have been hit there throughout the years. Always a pipsqueak, I cannot remember ever going yard at Fletcher. What about you?

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Tribute on Woodward Avenue

Thanksgiving Day on Woodward Ave. (The Detroit News)

While preparing for a trip to Woodward Ave. yesterday, I was filled with the anticipation of a very special outing, a feeling reminiscent of my days of youth. My earliest memories of trips to Michigan's "Main St." (M-1) include boarding a bus in our Sunday best for a ride from our eastside, working-class neighborhood, and then when the skyscrapers shouldered out the sun, we knew we had arrived.

As a child, I couldn't fully comprehend the significance of this 27-mile "thread of economic vitality;" I simply got the feeling that it was all very extraordinary. I didn't know back then, what I know now, that Woodward Ave. is home to more than 300 historic sites, 55 major attractions, our eastside/westside dividing line and some rather amazing firsts, such as:

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The new mayor

"From this moment on, the past is the past, and we as a community, as a city and as a region are moving forward. We are going to move forward." -- Kenneth Cockrel Jr. after becoming Detroit's 61st mayor.

We have seen what cooperation can accomplish time and again in and around Fletcher Field. During the past 15 months, remarkable things have occurred because people from all walks of life have banded together to move forward, building on what was good about the past and trying to heal what was broken.

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McNichols Road update

A representative from Detroit City Councilwoman Alberta Tinsley-Talabi's office telephoned a Friends of Fletcher Field member earlier this week to say that a hearing on the potential reopening of McNichols Road between French and Conner would be held on Monday, Sept. 22.

Since that initial phone call, the hearing has been postponed by at least one week so council can deal with its own restructuring after the departure of President Kenneth V. Cockrel Jr., who was appointed the city's new mayor after scandal forced Kwame Kilpatrick to step down.

Even though there remain serious hurdles to overcome, there are several positives here:

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Neighborhood tractor closer to reality

Even though this journey has taken us on an incredible route during the past 15 months or so, it still has the ability to surprise.

Like tonight, when I found myself in a crowded conference room at Mt. Olivet Cemetery -- surrounded by a familiar cast of characters and a few new faces -- making a verbal pitch to a Presbyterian group from Louisville, Ky., for a $20,000-plus grant to purchase a tractor for the upkeep of Fletcher Field and the surrounding neighborhood.

Who would have ever thought that a community-owned tractor would be necessary to keep the grass cut at the park and on the vacant lots created by blight and misguided City Airport policy?

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Rained out at Fletcher Field

I thought of something as the heavy rain began to fall at Fletcher Field this afternoon.

Out of the 30 or so Sundays we've been working with the neighborhood children in the park, we had never been completely rained out.

That all changed today.

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Don't let it be anymore

Somebody hit a ball over the backstop and across French Road during a batting-practice session at Fletcher Field last Sunday.

A little pooped from the previous day's festivities -- our second annual barbecue at the park -- I was just watching from the bleachers along first base. So I got up, crossed the road, found the ball in the high grass along the City Airport fence line and then tossed it back into the park.

On my way back to the bleachers, I spotted a discarded tire near the Fletcher Field fence line and decided I didn't want to leave it there. I put the tire back on its treads and started to roll it toward a dumpster on the Gilbo side of the park, which was put there the day before for cleaning up after the barbecue.

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What the Sept. 11 bad guys didn't want to happen

I worked the night shift on Sept. 10, 2001, didn't crawl into bed until about 3:30 a.m. on Sept. 11.

Little did I know when I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, everything would be different by the time I woke up.

A ringing telephone. That's how my day started around 11:30 a.m. It was my friend and co-worker, Tom Gromak, who had worked the detnews.com desk with me the night before. He had been awoken by a telephone call a few minutes earlier by a bearer of the bad news, which Tom then passed on to me.

Audio slideshow: Rosary for Peace at Mt. Olivet Cemetery

He rattled off a laundry list of tragedies that seemed impossible at the time: hijacked planes flying into towers, towers falling, Pentagon attacked, likely thousands dead, air traffic around the United States halted.

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Bubba becomes a kid again

Bubba on Saturday.

Every parent ends up saying it eventually: "They grow up too fast."

The growing up, however, seems to be accelerated even more in the neighborhood around Fletcher Field, where being a tough guy often takes precedent over remaining a child.

I introduced you briefly to Bubba a year ago after the two of us shared the swings at Fletcher Field one rainy evening.

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How did you do this?

Audio slideshow: Second annual barbecue at Fletcher Field

I saw the look time and again Saturday at Fletcher Field: complete awe followed by an enormous smile.

That look by first-time visitors to the park reminded me of the scene from "Jurassic Park" when the movie's heroes -- Dr. Alan Grant, Dr. Ellie Sattler and Dr. Ian Malcolm -- go behind the giant gate and see the resurrected dinosaurs for the first time.

Crazy, isn't it? That witnessing 6-acres of pristine parkland and some semblance of racial harmony on Detroit's east side could be equated to seeing a herd of genetically-produced Brachiosaurus.

Actually, it's pathetic.

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Thanks for the teeth

The morning of August 4, 1970, began like most other mornings during summer vacation at Fletcher Field. A group of neighborhood kids got together to play baseball. I think I was the only girl playing and probably the youngest one, too, as I got stuck catching, but I really did not mind because Billy Klatt was pitching, and any girl growing up in the 6 Mile and Van Dyke area would have caught for Billy Klatt. I don’t think Billy complained that he got stuck with the girl on his team because, even at just 8 years of age, I could consistently make the throw from catcher to pitcher, and probably even to second base.

The bases were out, the players were in position and the field and on-deck circle were chalked. Mr. V., our Park Director, would have had it no other way. When we played baseball at Fletcher Field we had to know how to chalk the field and put down the bases. If we didn’t do it right, Mr. V. would not let us play until we fixed it.

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The field that LOVE built

Glenn Porzadek arrived hours before everybody else Saturday and weed whacked the entire park.

About a week ago, a worker for the Detroit Rec. Dept. came out to Fletcher Field to oversee the installation of bleachers and see what else we needed. As we looked out over the 6-acre field, she made a comment.

"You can see the love," she said

As I looked back over the second annual barbecue at Fletcher Field, a thought came to me: LOVE built this field.

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In the community ...

Just what a day in the park ought to be -- FUN -- from start to finish!

While preparing for our last Reading in the Park session, on the topic of "Gardens," a particular poem caught my attention. I thought it might be a bit much for the children to sit through on one of their final days of summer vacation. But I hung onto it anyway, because it represents a convergence of my passions for reading, gardens and community. I think it really exemplifies the Fletcher's celebration -- as we choose to stand together with "one intent" on our "skyrocket passage" through this world -- without further ado ...

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A brief but powerful moment at the old gym

It was a bone-chilling day in late February. A small group of us was about to enter the gym-auditorium building on the Shield of Faith campus to see if the facility was safe enough to tour after the March 30 interfaith service at SOF.

The building was without power, and I had forgotten to bring flashlights for this expedition. We were going in with only the dim light of our cellphones to guide us.

Just before we entered, something happened that, in my mind, was remarkable and a fine example for others to follow if we do finally attempt to bridge our differences and make a combined effort -- city and suburbs, white and black -- to rebuild Detroit.

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High on life at Fletcher Field

Totally buzzed.

That's how I felt when I got home from Fletcher Field at about 9:30 p.m. on Saturday.

The feeling had nothing to do with alcohol or drugs, though. I was intoxicated by another glorious occasion at the park.

It was a perfect day all the way around, from the blue skies and balmy temps to the reason the softball game finally broke up -- game called on account of total darkness; the final pitch was actually thrown under the stars.

Nobody wanted to leave.

I called Shield of Faith minister Imogene Johnson late Saturday to see if she was buzzed, too, and to replay some of the precious moments of the day with her. She was just as stoked as I was, and we concurred that when we all work together, anything and everything is possible.

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Packing up, heading home after a downright comfortable day

We're all together again...

Well, it was a good day out here at Fletcher Field. Thinking back to when we first started all this, we have really come a long way. A year ago at the first picnic, the current and former residents were still getting to know each other, and so while it was fun and amazing, there was also some awkwardness.

This year, I didn't see much awkwardness at all. Current and former residents not only enjoyed the day, they seemed to genuinely enjoy being with one another. The festivities brought out old friends that we hadn't seen in a while. Marvel brought his drill team. A spirited softball game broke out at the end of the evening despite impending dusk. Everyone seemed happy to be together again.

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The festivities have begun and the webcam is up!

It's a beautiful day for a barbecue.

The fire department brought a truck to show the kids, there is a bouncie-thingie, V98.7 is playing tunes, and there are basketball and softball games going on right now. We've got the live web cam of the festivities up and running, too, so if you can't make it out here, you can check out the festivities yourself.

It's not too late to come the join the fun! There are tables set up with games and activities. If you visit all the stations, you'll be entered into a raffle for prizes including a golf outing and tickets to a Tigers game. The barbecue is fired up, there's plenty of food and drink, and there will be entertainment throughout the evening. There's even an ice cream truck and someone dressing up in a purple tiger suit...

So come on out if you can and emjoy the fun! The barbecue is at Fletcher Playground, just off of Van Dyke to the east, just south of McNichols, on the west side of city airport. If you are on Van Dyke, just keep an eye out for Mt. Olivet Street on the east side of the road. Turn east on Mt. Olivet and you'll drive right up to the park (if you want better directions, click here to go to google maps for directions. Hope to see you here!

It's complicated

If not for Marvel Cheeks, there's a good chance nothing would have changed.

Fletcher Field would still be an overgrown eyesore; Shield of Faith and Holy Name would have remained strangers; the park would be empty on Saturday rather than playing host to a big party.

But Marvel -- Detroit's adopt-a-park coordinator -- was there when I reached out to the city last summer, looking for somebody, anybody, to help me move forward with my plan to form a coalition to fix the park.

After calling several city offices, getting so frustrated I nearly called it quits, it was Marvel who called me, invited me to his office for a meeting and introduced me to a co-worker, Joyce Jennings, the daughter of Shield of Faith pastor Bishop James Alvin Jennings Jr.

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Barbecue, webcast and the new mayor

In less than 36 hours, we expect more than 500 people -- former and current residents of the McNichols and Van Dyke area -- to be at Fletcher Field.

The occasion: our second annual barbecue, celebrating the old and new coming together to forge better tomorrows for the children of the neighborhood.

Please join us at 3 p.m. for all the fun, fellowship and food -- 800 hot dogs and 760 hamburgers, courtesy of the Detroit Rotary Club.

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My last word on Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick

Kwame Kilpatrick's greatest crime was stealing from the kids of Detroit.

When I'm cookin' up hot dogs at Fletcher Field on Sunday afternoons, the children of the neighborhood usually hang out with me.

They sit at a nearby picnic table drinking lemonade or run around the table and then me, forcing me to gently prod them away from the hot grill. During this time our conversations are very familiar.

The kids talk about Sponge Bob, Spider-Man and the coming school year. Despite the dire conditions of the neighborhood, they talk about lofty goals in life. One of the kids recently confided that he wanted to attended Michigan State after high school -- to get a solid education, not to become a basketball star.

I could be talking to my kids or, for that matter, any children I know.

The difference is, most of these kids don't have a fighting chance. They're poor, they live in a tough neighborhood few care about and they're enrolled in a failing school system.

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Bridging

On Labor Day, my husband, Mike, and I were blessed with the opportunity to gain a deeper appreciation of the Mackinac Bridge.

We've always been in awe of the "Mighty Mac" -- the longest suspension bridge in the western hemisphere (third longest in the world). But this past weekend we experienced the supreme privilege of a (free) boat ride under the bridge, while watching the sun set on Lake Michigan and then rise just hours later on Lake Huron, as we were heading out on foot to cross over this five-plus miles of engineering marvel.

Words can hardly explain the exhilaration of standing at the base of one of the 386-foot towers (which has a twin) and waving up at a handful of (more) fortunate folks waving down at the throngs below. It's estimated that 50,000 people participated in this year's Mac walk on the only day of the year that foot traffic is allowed.

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A Polish birthday greeting

The birthday boy, Darnell.

Darnell is like a lightning flash on a starless, moonless night.

The young boy from the neighborhood around Fletcher Field lights up a room -- and your heart -- every time he flashes his smile.

Darnell has spent most of his Sunday afternoons this summer at the park, running back and forth between the playground area and the softball games. He loves hot dogs, Goldfish crackers and hugs.

On Sunday, Darnell proclaimed that it was his birthday, and he held up three fingers to signify his new age. He joined a group of people sitting in the newly-installed bleachers to the left of the baseball diamond, and an impromptu, off-key version of "Happy Birthday" greeted him. Darnell absolutely beamed during the song.

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New voices

The city on Thursday provided Fletcher with a full quota of swings.

You have all read about Shield of Faith minister Imogene Johnson, and Lee Walmsley and Chris Kempa, both former residents of the McNichols and Van Dyke area who are now intricately involved in the work in and around Fletcher Field.

All three of these wonderful women have been given the keys to the blog now, and you likely will be hearing from them from time to time, giving "Going Home" some fresh voices.

I'm sure you're all sick of me by now. Can you believe the blog just celebrated its first birthday on Aug. 23?

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I am my brother's keeper

Barack Obama made history tonight, becoming the first black man to accept a major party's nomination for president -- doing so on the 45th anniversary of Martin Luther King's "I Have a Dream" speech.

Obama then gave another rousing speech himself, one that the keepers of the area around Fletcher Field should heed. The heart of it struck at the very reason Friends of Fletcher Field was founded: The children of the neighborhood deserve better; just like this former Dobel Street kid, they should be able to dream big and then have a fighting chance to achieve those dreams.

Said Obama: "Ours is a promise that says government cannot solve all our problems, but what it should do is that which we cannot do for ourselves -- protect us from harm and provide every child a decent education; keep our water clean and our toys safe; invest in new schools and new roads and new science and technology.

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Painting with broad strokes

Bleachers arrived today at Fletcher Field.

It bothers me when people paint with broad strokes -- so I guess I shouldn't do it either.

I did the other day when I wrote that the City of Detroit was responsible for what happened to Mrs. Foster's house and many of the other blighted or torn down abodes in the neighborhood around Fletcher Field.

Don't get me wrong. I think the City Airport policymakers have failed the area miserably. As I've said many times before, airport closure is more likely than airport expansion now. And creating vacant property in a city already more than half empty is tragic when it's being done in Hail Mary fashion.

That being said, City of Detroit workers have helped us in many ways since I ventured back into the neighborhood last June. Just today I met with the city's adopt-a-park coordinator, Marvel Cheeks, who is attempting to secure a stage and ginormous tent for the Sept. 6 barbecue. Marvel did that and much more last September.

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Reliving the miracle

Robert Delaney/The Michigan Catholic

Somethings hit you with the same power over and over again -- no matter how many times you hear or see them.

Bogart saying, "We'll always have Paris."

King barking out, "I have a dream."

Rocky running up the front steps of the Philadelphia Museum to the song "Gonna Fly Now."

Add to that list the DVD of the March 30 interfaith service at Shield of Faith Church.

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Here last week, gone on Sunday

Things can happen breathtakingly fast in the old neighborhood.

A week ago, the meticulously-kept bungalow with blue siding on the northeast corner of Dobel Steet was full of life. On Sunday, it was a picture of death -- just three days after its owner of more than a quarter century moved out.

The before-and-after was heartbreaking for a lot of people, including current residents of the neighborhood who hadn't ventured to the baseball-diamond side of Fletcher Field since our game last Sunday.

"What the heck happened," one of the neighborhood's teenagers asked me.

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Bad dog poop in the car

That's what just happened on the tail end of our vacation; our black lab couldn't hold it any longer and dropped us a bomb just north of Holly. Talk about gross. We were all gagging in the car before we could exit the highway. I had to laugh in the end.

Anyway, what a week. I'm so blessed to be able to do that with my extended family every couple of years. The kids will be talking about the vacation for the rest of their lives -- particularly the snakes and the Witch of Horseshoe Lake.

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Vacation update

Seems the snake family lives in a hole near the back of the lodge. We've seen at least four of them on this trip -- thankfully, no more on the inside of the cabin.

We've fished quite a bit (landed several large-mouth bass), swam, golfed, rode horses, went rafting, played euchre, huddled around a campfire every night and tossed back lots of beer, wine and Mike's Hard Lemonade. I've also done some running, tackling the big hills around here to keep off a big beer belly.

As I've told you in the past, my Grandpa Lemanski, who lived on Dubay and drank his beers at Michael's Lounge, was quite a prankster back in the day. Last night, we laid the groundwork for a prank on the six kids here with us. This began to take root several years ago with a story my brother-in-law told about a witch and a skeleton in Horseshoe Lake.

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A snake story

"There's a snake in the cabin!"

That was the chilling cry that came from the main lodge here on Horseshoe Lake in Mio Monday evening, right before six frightened kids and then my dad and brother came storming out the door leading to the courtyard and our cozy bonfire.

I'm really afraid of snakes, hoped this was some kind of bad joke, a rumor, a rural legend.

Nope. It was true. The reports coming in were confirmed by numerous sources. A snake was slithering around the very place I had slept the night before.

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Poor me -- not

The softball game grows with each week.

I met a man at Fletcher Field on Sunday who said he will turn 52 on Wednesday.

I wished him well, told him to celebrate the day.

"I think I can scrape together enough for two beers," he told me.

Another reality check for me as I left the park Sunday evening and headed Up North for a week-long vacation. I ain't rich, but I ain't that poor, either.

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Whack attack

If you have a couple of hours and a gas-powered weed-whacker, we could use your help on Sunday (1 p.m.) at Fletcher Field.

We're going to start to work the fence line in preparation for the Sept. 6 barbecue at the park.

I'll grill up some hot dogs for everybody when we're done.

It all happens too fast

My baby, Amanda.

She's a chip off the old block.

Actually, just like her Dad did about 40 years ago, my little girl nearly took a chip off her own block last Sunday at Fletcher Field.

Amanda likes to ride like the wind, demands to be pushed to the sky when she swings at the park. A friend of mine (I won't mention her by name because this incident totally freaked her out) was doing the pushing on Sunday. She gave the kid a running boost, went under the swing (I'm told this is called an "underdog" push), and -- while Amanda was at the pinnacle of the push -- she slipped off the swing and hit the ground with a thud.

Keep in mind, Fletcher Field is not in Grosse Pointe Woods. There are no cushy wood chips under the swings, only concrete. It was a pretty scary fall.

Thankfully, Amanda's rump took the brunt of it. Her head hit second and not with much impact. She suffered just a butt bruise and some embarrassment, and was perfectly fine an hour later.

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Another invite to Holy Name

Back in March, you did what Thomas Wolfe said couldn't be done: You went home again.

Thanks to the efforts of Friends of Fletcher Field, Shield of Faith Church, Mt. Olivet Neighborhood CB Patrol and Mt. Olivet Cemetery, you returned to the church of your baptism, First Holy Communion, wedding and other momentous events of your life. You united with old friends and current tenants of the church building to pray for better tomorrows in the McNichols and Van Dyke area. You participated in a day many called "life changing."

On Saturday, Sept. 6, at 3 p.m. the same organizations that brought you the Holy Name Neighborhood Reunion are sponsoring a barbecue in the neighborhood park, Fletcher Field. More than 400 people attended last year's barbecue at Fletcher. The second annual will be even bigger and better.

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Creating a masterpiece

As is often the case, I couldn't sleep Sunday night.

I just laid there thinking about the tough week ahead at work, about a fast-approaching family vacation, about the day's events at Fletcher Field and, finally, about that rogue garden at the park -- why it means so much to me.

And then I thought about the words to a song in the soundtrack from one of my favorite Broadway shows, "Rent."

A pinnacle scene in the show has most of the cast dancing around a bar, singing about the wonderfulness of being a bohemian -- an artist.

Says the final line of "La Vie Boheme:" "The opposite of war isn't peace; it's creation."

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Bad news, all the time

A thousand people -- young and old, black and white, city residents and suburbanites -- unite in a church on Van Dyke and McNichols on Detroit's east side to pray for better tomorrows in the neighborhood, and only The Michigan Catholic decides to cover it.

During the past five years, 1,000 bodies total have been disinterred and moved out of Detroit. Relatives of the mobile dead cite the inconvenience of driving into the city and their fear of crime as the reason for changing cemetery addresses. And it's the front-page story of The Detroit News today.

Worse yet, many of the people interviewed for the story stated that their fear of Detroit stems from reading news reports.

NO WONDER OUR CITY IS DYING.

Without hope, there is only death -- and, I guess, actually an inclination to move the dead now.

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The Happy family pumpkin

The next Happy family pumpkin.

Finding the Happy family Halloween pumpkin during our Dobel Street era was a big deal.

Since we typically put up a plastic Christmas tree, this was our once-a-year search for the Holy Grail of holiday adornments.

The hunt sometimes went north, to the farmlands -- Van Dyke and 16 Mile Road back in the day. Often it started and ended at a fruit market on East McNichols. If memory serves me correct, it was Nevada Fruit Market, where the loading dock turned into a concrete pumpkin patch every year for the two weeks preceding Halloween.

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Golf and fellowship

I nearly didn't get out of bed.

A long night at the office brought on by the onset of the Olympics, second-round play of the PGA Championship and the ongoing Detroit mayor saga put me in my jamies at 4 a.m. on Saturday.

So when the alarm clock went off at 6 a.m., my first inclination was to turn it off and forget about the Shield of Faith golf outing. I could simply make a donation to the cause -- school supplies for the children living near the church and Fletcher Field -- without playing the game I love to hate on such little sleep.

Glutton for punishment, I didn't do it. I got up, showered, picked up my dad and headed out to Warren Valley Golf Course in Dearborn Heights to join the rest of our foursome.

Boy am I glad I did.

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Visitors on Mt. Olivet

Edith holds court in her garden.

The scene was surreal.

One minute, there were about 15 of us sprucing up Edith Floyd's community garden on the corner of Van Dyke and Mt. Olivet -- dozens of burnt-out, abandoned houses overlooking our work. The next, three coach buses pulled up and about 150 people piled out.

For about 10 minutes, the crowd admired Edith's pride and joy, marveled at how such beauty could exist among the rubble. The energy in the garden was palpable and then it was gone again -- the buses and their riders off to see more urban gardens in a city that can use all the beauty it can get right now.

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Ménage à trois

They spend so much time, in fact, either in the neighborhood or thinking and writing about it that when they laugh with each other about their wife (Happy) or their girlfriend (Morgan) leaving them over their "other woman," they’re only partially joking. -- Megan Gerber, Columbia Journalism Review.

Thanks for understanding and being there, Shannon. This ménage à trois of ours can be awfully challenging and frustrating at times -- but so rewarding at others.

Even though we've suffered through many up and downs, I wouldn't trade the past 14 years for anything -- except, perhaps, a new playscape at Fletcher. :0)

Happy anniversary.

Hula hoops and 'Cheers'

We had another meeting tonight at my parents' house in Roseville in preparation for the Sept. 6 Fletcher Field barbecue.

Most of the Holy Name neighborhood reunion committee was in attendance -- still dedicated to this cause.

I've noticed that the meetings tend to last longer and longer. Tonight's started at 7:30; the last people to leave departed at 10:45.

Sure, we got a lot accomplished. This year's celebration at the park will easily top the 2007 event. But the meetings have become more than just planning sessions over the months. We're like family now, relish the time we spend together, talk about anything and everything -- even hula hoops and chess.

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Shield of Faith golf outing

Time is running out to participate in Shield of Faith's golf outing, which will help pay for school supplies for the children living around the church and Fletcher Field.

I went to the back-to-school outing SOF played host to a year ago, saw the precious smiles on the kids' faces when they received their new book bags. This is a really good cause.

The golf event is Saturday, 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., at Warren Valley Golf Course in Dearborn Heights. The cost is $100 or $40 for dinner only. The church needs to have all entries by Wednesday night.

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Fletcher Field corn

Bad idea.

That's what I was thinking when, during the May 17 cleanup at Fletcher Field, a group of the volunteers decided to plant a garden at the park.

Fletcher Field corn

Sure, I enjoy shooting for the stars, but I refuse to waste my time. I think we should all set our standards high while "keeping it real."

A garden at Fletcher didn't seem real to me. I saw it as a target for vandalism, plus we didn't have any way to keep it watered.

Today, during another wonderful early afternoon and evening at the park, the garden stood as a poignant reminder that real has a different definition in that 6-acre gem called Fletcher.

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Step up to the plate

I told you last week about an organization called "Inner City Exposure" and its plan to use baseball as a vehicle to rebuild the neighborhood around McNichols and Van Dyke.

Click here to read ICE's entire proposal.

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Detroit Garden Tour coming to Mt. Olivet Street

Growing Joy, the community garden on Mt. Olivet Street shepherded by Edith Floyd, is going to be featured in the 11th annual Detroit Agriculture Network Garden Tour next Wednesday.

Edith's garden keeps growing.

Edith and her friends have worked hard on the garden over the last year, and the garden shows it.

The corn stalks there are taller than me (though they are really close together, so Edith says they won't yield as much corn as she would like), and the garden includes thriving examples of all kinds of vegetables: cucumbers, squash, onions, zucchini, peas, at least 4 different kinds of lettuce (which can sell for $4 a head at farmers' markets), string beans, eggplant, beets and garlic, to name a few.

I haven't sampled all of Edith's food, but I got a clove of garlic and a couple of onions from her a few weeks ago, and the simple pasta my girlfriend Val made by combining them with tomatoes and cheese was delicious. And the little tomato-ettes that grow inside a brown parchment-y shell and taste like a sweet, tart fruit (maybe a plum?) are really good, too.

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DVD and CD orders

I have gotten two emails in recent days, one about an unfulfilled DVD order from the interfaith service at Shield of Faith and another about an MIA CD from the Holy Name Neighborhood Reunion.

Please, if you have issues with either, email me (mjhappyii@hotmail.com) or call me at the office (313-222-2742). I will ensure that the complaints are dealt with in a timely manner.

Both SOF and Mt. Olivet Cemetery, who did the CD from the reunion dinner, will take care of any problems as soon as they are made aware of them.

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The greatest escape

"It's nice to escape from reality for a while."

I've heard that comment more than once in recent weeks from people visiting Fletcher Field during our Sunday events. Feeling pretty much the same way while I'm at the park, I really didn't stop to consider what folks were saying about their emotions.

I finally did the other night, and it struck me just how remarkable those words are.

That's because it's difficult to find a more real place in the world than McNichols and Van Dyke. As "Columbia Journalism Review" reporter Megan Garber said about the area in a recent article: "Fletcher lies at the heart of what is perhaps the most dangerous section of what is perhaps the most dangerous city in America."

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Radio station V98.7 commits to Sept. 6 barbecue

We hit a rough patch during the early going of last September's cleanup/barbecue at Fletcher Field.

The disc jockey arrived more than two hours late and then didn't have the appropriate connections to start the music when he did show up.

As a result, our turnout was light through 11:30 a.m., which made me more than a little nervous. I began to fear the worst: NOBODY'S COMING!

Well, once the music played, it all worked out; the park was packed by lunchtime.

This year's event, on Sept. 6, will begin a little later, likely 3 p.m., because no cleanup is needed. This is strictly one big party. Better yet, we don't have to worry about the music.

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Grace's garage

"Grace is looking for you."

The words made me tremble. The matriarch of Van Dyke and McNichols, a woman who has seen it all during the past 70-plus years -- from farmland to thriving neighborhood to wasteland -- wanted to have a face-to-face with me Sunday afternoon.

I did what any grown man with cute children would do: I grabbed my two youngest kids by the hands and made my way across Gilbo Street; no way she would yell at me with Mandy and Shaun by my side.

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The Chronicles of Dobel Street

Fixing up their old neighborhood.

I see it as karma now, not coincidence -- and am no longer surprised when it happens.

There have been way too many times during the last year where happenstance brought with it consequence for me not to believe that somebody else is driving this ship.

Today, through a series of seemingly ho-hum events -- an early wake-up call, two crabby children, plus a cranky wife -- I ended up at the movies with my middle child, Shaun. We took in a 12:30 p.m. showing of "The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian" at the $2 theater in Macomb Mall.

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Neighborhood savior: Baseball?

The potential site of a new charter school in 2009.

Based on our Sunday afternoon games, it looks like baseball has been resurrected in the neighborhood around McNichols and Van Dyke.

You can see it in their smiles and the zest with which they play on the old diamond at Fletcher Field; the kids and young adults of the area have made the neighborhood's former pastime its current pastime.

Remarkably, the game's reemergence at the park might just be the beginning. There is a chance baseball could be the saving grace of the entire neighborhood.

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The greening of Fletcher Field

The day after our Sept. 8, 2007, celebration at Fletcher Field, some of the park contingency culminated the weekend by worshiping together at Shield of Faith.

A visiting pastor that day gave the sermon, one that focused on the theme of planting shade trees you might never have the opportunity to sit under.

The motif was fitting, considering we had done just that the previous day; I firmly believe there were several seeds planted at the park last September that will continue to bear fruit long after we're gone.

Tonight at a Friends of Fletcher Field meeting originally called to work on the Sept. 6 barbecue, we found out that shade trees will literally be planted around the park's perimeter this fall.

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Addicted to hope

There are certain Sundays I just don't feel like getting off the couch.

The clock ticks toward 3 p.m. and I literally have to drag myself up and out the door for another afternoon at Fletcher Field.

Today was such a Sunday.

Play ball!

Because of numerous vacations at detnews.com, I have to fill in for others today and Monday -- my normal days off. Four hours in the hot sun followed by eight hours at the office didn't seem all that appealing to me.

But as is always the case, once I arrived at the park, all was right with the world. Seeing smiling children everywhere; watching former and current residents of the area -- black and white -- playing and socializing together; actually playing softball on a diamond I grew up on; it's all good and gives me hope for a better future in the neighborhood.

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365 days have gone by

Fletcher Field one year ago.

Exactly one year has passed since the audio slideshow 1967 aftershocks rock Dobel Steet appeared on detnews.com, setting in motion the refurbishment of Fletcher Field and establishment of this blog.

Thanks to everyone who has helped move this effort forward during the past 365 days. Although there is still much left to do, no one can deny that what has happened so far is special.

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Come on out

Just a quick reminder that we will be back at Fletcher Field on Sunday at 3 p.m. for softball and hotdogs.

If you haven't seen the park yet, come on out. We need you. It's going to take more than a village to complete our ultimate goal of healing and rebuilding the neighborhood.

Word has it former Holy Name star quarterback Kevin Kensicki will be there, all the way from North Carolina, and he claims his throwing arm is in grand shape.

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In the words of Nicholson's Joker

Did you read the headlines today? From bad to worse to downright despicable.

Federal grand jury probes sludge deal

Armory sale delayed after anonymous letter surfaces about mayor's father

Kilpatrick: Council must set aside anger and focus instead on city business

Hot times in city: Irate council ejects Adams, then votes down tunnel deal

Another famous quote from the "Batman" series seems relevant here. Cue up Jack Nicholson:

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Good people must act

"How can Gotham be saved if the good people do nothing?"

That line struck me as I watched "Batman Begins" the other night in preparation for seeing "The Dark Knight," which will hit theatres later this week.

The question is totally relevant to our city, Detroit, whose fate should matter to the entire state; like it or not, to the rest of the world, Michigan is Detroit. And too many good people are sitting on their hands waiting for things to change for the better on their own.

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Playing small ball

Sunday was a good day at the park. We had another strong showing for our reading program and as a bonus, we also got to play softball after the reading was done.

Reading in the shade of the playground's sole tree...

To start, Happy and I cooked up hot dogs and got food ready for all who came out for the reading program (thanks to John and Pat Bosch and Mt. Olivet cemetery for donating some food from the cemetery run) while Chris Kempa and volunteers used the day's theme of sports to get those in attendance to read.

While we were cooking, I looked down to Almont and saw kids with baseball mitts throwing a softball to each other up and down the street.

"Cool" I thought, "the kids are really taking to baseball." As we've said before, it's one thing to play with the white people who come each weekend and love the game, its another thing to play on your own time.

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Crackers no more

Other than cleaning up Fletcher Field, have we managed to do anything else valuable on McNichols and Van Dyke?

Kids at the ball diamond waiting for us to come play.

I sometimes wonder.

Today, I got a definitive answer. Yes, perceptions are changing.

It was supposed to be a reading-in-the-park day at Fletcher Field, not a sports Sunday. Still, several of the teenage boys and young men in the neighborhood showed up at the baseball diamond precisely at 3 p.m.

While we ate hot dogs and read with the younger kids near the swings, a softball game commenced at the other side of the park and went on for more than an hour. Much to our surprise, a 17-year-old boy everybody in the neighborhood calls "Mister" strolled across the park about 4:30 p.m. and informed me that the group on the baseball diamond was waiting for us to join them.

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Running and reading

Runners, walkers and volunteers enjoyed pancakes and fellowship after the race.

We're headed over to Fletcher Field for the 3 p.m. reading-in-the-park event. But I wanted to briefly write about this morning's run-walk-pancake breakfast at Mt. Olivet Cemetery first.

An absolutely glorious morning weather-wise and a top-notch effort by cemetery director Mark Gracely and his staff of volunteers. Few first-time running events go as smoothly.

Nearly 150 people came out, worked out on the rolling course around the cemetery grounds, then stuffed their faces full of pancakes and sausages in a giant tent set up just to the east of the main office. It was all for a good cause, too: pumping some life into the neighborhood and making a substantial donation to Make-A-Wish Foundation.

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Dance lesson

Dancing with Matt.

A good friend of mine sent me a link to an odd little video a few minutes ago. I'll leave it up to you to interpret its meaning; I have my own translation that relates to the park.

All I know for sure is that I felt very happy at the end of the video. Hope you do, too.

Click here to watch the video.

Click here for a YouTube version of the video.

Click here to read a New York Times article on the video.

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Gracely got his picture in the paper

Mark at the cemetery

Detroit News columnist Neal Rubin caught up with Mt. Olivet Cemetery director Mark Gracely the other day to talk about Sunday's run/walk/pancake breakfast in the 120-year-old graveyard.

Click here to read Neal's story.

As Neal says in the column, registration will start at 7 a.m. Sunday, with the race at 8 and food at 8:30. It's $23 for the run or $18 for the walk, pancakes included, and $5 for extra diners. The event will benefit Make-A-Wish Foundation.

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The reunion and union

Sometimes I forget and draw strength by remembering.

It all still brings me to tears.

Yes, Bishop Jennings, these bones can live.

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Better late than never

Being on the ground on McNichols and Van Dyke, trying to change perceptions and rebuild a neighborhood is, to say the least, the challenge of a lifetime.

But, for me, often patience is the hardest part. That's one virtue that hasn't been passed down in the Happy bloodline. So it's been very difficult to stay calm -- among several ongoing projects -- as we cut through the red tape to get the basketball court refurbished at Fletcher Field.

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Hopes are high -- as a Ferris wheel

Imagine one of these babies at Fletcher Field on Sept. 6.

Nearly a year ago to the day, the Fletcher Field project took root with a trip back to the old neighborhood for a Detroit News project, which spurred an idea and then a couple of very interesting meetings.

Back then, we talked of the bare essentials: getting the grass cut at the park, whacking down out-of-control undergrowth along the fence line, pulling out some rusted and mangled fence, rebuilding the baseball diamond and putting the swings back up on the old stanchions.

There was plenty of doubt to go around the first time we walked the park to assess the damage; it appeared the old girl might have been too far gone to save.

Fortunately, blind faith overtook the doubt. We forged ahead with our plan to fix the park and to throw a party there on Sept. 8, 2007, which turned out to be a rousing success as more than 400 people enjoyed a fabulous, emotional day at Fletcher.

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Baseball, swing sets and making new friends at the park

On Sunday I made my second trip to the neighborhood, and it was a nice feeling to be able to greet the people I’d met a few weeks earlier and start to feel like I’m making some new friends.

But the familiar faces were far outnumbered by new faces to me. As others have already pointed out, the first week of baseball in the park this year didn’t get a great turnout, and I was there that day. We ended up helping Edith in her garden instead of playing in the park.

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A beautiful day for baseball

Ever since the May 17 cleanup, where we had great Holy Name turnout and got lots of work done but didn't see as many residents as we wanted, we have been trying to find the kids who played with us last summer and get them out to play again.

Fletcher Field on Sunday.

At first, we were worried that the airport had finally gotten serious and that most of the kids and their families had left for greener pastures.

But as we started hanging out in the neighborhood more, and as Imogene, Happy and Edith began taking turns going door to door to pass out fliers and spread the word about upcoming events, we realized that most of the kids are still here, and they were just waiting to be called out to play.

Happy's birthday party drew a number of the kids we'd met last year. Last weekend's reading in the park event drew a number of younger children. The baseball group ICE has been using the field during the week and getting kids to come out and practice and play. And on Sunday, we finally got the kind of turnout we had been hoping for.

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Reports of my rise are greatly exaggerated

Rumor has it, I live here.

I was walking through the old neighborhood the other day, handing out flyers for an upcoming event at Fletcher Field, when a man on Almont Street came out of his house and wanted to chat with me.

I had never met the man before, but he thought he knew all about me.

"You're the Mike Happy who used to live here, made it big, lives in Grosse Pointe in a mansion on Lakeshore Drive," he said.

I laughed off his story and told him the truth: I'm actually a renter of a tiny bungalow in Grosse Pointe Woods and can barely pay my bills.

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The summer of "Jaws"

"You're gonna need a bigger boat."

A memorable line from an unforgettable movie, "Jaws," released in June 1975 -- my final summer on Dobel Street.

There have been numerous blockbusters since a young Steven Spielberg turned Peter Benchley's chilling novel into arguably the scariest motion picture ever made, but I cannot recall more buzz surrounding a movie for so long.

From the time the trailer hit the theaters in early 1975 right through the fall of that year, sharks were it. The great white became almost as iconic as the peace sign.

I remember the Holy Name festival just after the start of the school year; shark t-shirts, posters, mirrors, plush toys were everywhere -- for sale and as prizes for the carnival games set up in the gymnasium.

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Independence Day

American flags wafting from every porch stoop.

The smell of barbecued steaks, burgers and hot dogs thick in the humid afternoon air.

Echoes of children swimming, splashing, Marco-Poloing coming from backyards up and down the block.

Ernie Harwell calling a Willie Horton homer over dad's little transistor radio as the aging Tigers win another one.

After dark, sparklers twirling in tiny hands, and firecrackers (Lady Fingers, Black Cats, M-80s) and bottle rockets making the whole area sound like a war zone until dawn.

That's what I remember most about a Fourth of July on Dobel Street. How 'bout you?

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Song and grant

Dave Allen invited Jonathan Morgan and me to Wednesday's Rotary Club Meeting at the Detroit Athletic Club so we could be there for a grant presentation to Edith Floyd.

Edith was more than a little nervous to go on her own, so we decided to be there for her.

The DAC is quite a place -- way too rich for my blood but fun to visit. The meeting itself was also quite an experience.

The Rotary Club likes to sing -- "The Star-Spangled Banner" for starters; "America the Beautiful" during lunch; and then, finally, an odd sorta of welcome song for guests, which is accompanied by handshakes and a lot of smiling, just before official business begins.

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Rotary Club helps garden grow

The land is sour.

Edith Floyd in front of her community garden.

Too much lead paint when the houses stood, then half-hazard work when they were demolished left much of the abandoned property in the neighborhood around McNichols and Van Dyke with contaminated soil.

Consequently, Edith Floyd's community garden near the corner of Van Dyke and Mt. Olivet -- on two vacant lots that formerly were junk piles -- consists of a series of planter boxes filled with topsoil transported from other locations.

The boxes themselves cost about $40 apiece to build and paint. Edith has more vacant land to utilize than she does planter boxes -- or money to spend on them.

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CJR story

Jon and I have been sweating this day for months.

Would the Columbia Journalism Review accuse us of high crimes against our industry because of this blog or tell us it's OK to stay the course?

You be the objective judge:

Click here to read "Crossing Lines: In a bombed-out Detroit neighborhood, a new blog works to rekindle a community."

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Bookworms at Fletcher

Absolutely perfect.

Well, maybe that's a bit too strong, considering the rain that delayed the start of our first "Reading in the Park" event at Fletcher Field.

But once the sky cleared and the sun poked its head out, so did the children of the neighborhood. About 30 of them showed up at the park on Sunday to choose a book, get some one-on-one attention and some lunch -- grilled hot dogs, chips and juice.

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Back to Detroit, and seeing it for the first time

I'm not from Detroit. Not literally anyway.

The closest connections I have to the city are my two grandfathers from immigrant families who grew up there in the 30s, 40s and 50s. My grandmothers grew up in "rural" Royal Oak and "small town" Wyandotte (described in their own words).

My mother was raised in Livonia, and my father grew up in Westland, on the same block that I grew up on and where my parents and grandmother still live.

While choosing a college, its location (far away from home) was pretty high on my priority list. I thought Westland was boring (in all honesty, I still do), and couldn't wait to see more of the world, or at least more of the country.

The place I chose was not altogether very exciting—the bulls-eye center of Missouri—but at least it was different. I immediately got chummy with the international student crowd, and every last one of them was impressed when I said I was from Detroit.

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A new face in the neighborhood

Jessica Nunez, the summer online intern at the Detroit News, is going to be joining Happy and I on this blog and in the neighborhood this summer. She is a journalism graduate student at the University of Missouri who was born and raised in Westland, MI. She is going to start writing over the next week, while Mike and I are both on vacation.

An aside: My vacation thus far has consisted of Val and I moving. Happy's family helped out the first couple of days (God bless them), and Val and I have been arranging and putting away since. Our house is spacious enough to hold everything, but small enough that now the boxes are sort of like the ocean tides - they flow upstairs, stuff comes out of them onto the floors, then they have to flow back downstairs until we clean up the mess - only they don't just flow - I get to carry them. Yes, it is an awesome responsibility, powering the tides, except they are boxes and they are heavy and I wish I had an ocean to move them for me. It is a really nice house, though, and we live across the street from someone who owns a monster truck, which is pretty darn cool! Now I just need to get my lawn mowed...

Anyway. So I'll be back next week, and please welcome Jessica to the blog and the neighborhood!

On vacation

I took vacation this week, not to go anywhere, just to get a break -- breathe a little, read, drink a few beers.

Of course, my wife had other ideas. We spent the entire day yesterday swapping bedrooms, giving my eldest his own room, putting our two little ones together and moving our room upstairs. This comes on the heels of moving Jonathan and Val from Royal Oak to Grosse Pointe Woods on Sunday.

I guess I need to go back to work to get some rest.

Anyway, that's why I'm not avidly blogging this week; I'm refueling the tank. There's a lot of work to do this summer at Fletcher Field and beyond.

The power of words

A dear friend of mine gave me a little book tonight after a Friends of Fletcher Field meeting. The book's title is: "God's Creative Power."

In the book the author, Charles Capps, talks about the importance of words:

"Words are the most powerful things in the universe today!" Capps says. "They are containers of power.

"Many people have been defeated in life because they believed and spoke the wrong things. They have allowed the words of their own mouths to hold them bondage.

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Walmsley Field

Lee and Bob Walmsley on their "Field of Dreams."

I'd stack the baseball diamond at Fletcher Field against any in the city.

Thanks to the TLC of Lee and Bob Walmsley, the Fletcher infield is pretty much free of any bad hops. Geez, it wasn't this good back when I was a kid.

"I just want it to be known that people still care about this park and this neighborhood," Lee Walmsley said.

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Fletcher Field events and more

Well, summer is officially here. And even though we're not entirely prepared -- the McNichols Road issue has put us behind -- there will be a group at Fletcher Field on Sunday at 2 p.m.

The day will kick off F3's Sundays in the Park Program. Really, the title sounds more official than it is: just some caring individuals trying to give the children of the neighborhood a couple of hours of structure.

This week will feature a softball game; next week sports will take the backseat to a reading event. For the remainder of the summer, we will alternate Sundays between sports and education.

The summer will culminate with our second annual barbecue on Sept. 6, a party that drew more than 400 people last September.

Also, don't forget about two more upcoming events:

The July 13 4-mile run and pancake breakfast at Mt. Olivet Cemetery.

And the Aug. 9 golf outing sponsored by Shield of Faith at Warren Valley Golf Course in Dearborn Heights.

Trash bash

Some of the problems in the neighborhood around McNichols and Van Dyke are enormous.

Road closures, airport woes, declined city services and the ilk require the assistance of local, state and perhaps even federal officials to solve.

Other issues in the area aren't so complex. In fact, one is very simple and would go a long way toward making the neighborhood look better.

CLEAN UP THE TRASH!

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No vote

In the end, nothing was put to a vote by Detroit City Council on Tuesday.

The issue of reopening McNichols Road between Conner and French, according to most council members, needed more investigation -- either through a study or a public hearing. I guess we'll have to wait to find out which, and when the prescribed course of action will actually take place.

Any chance of a vote on a resolution seemed to come to a halt when Kerwin Wimberley, who represents the mayor's office, interjected that reopening the road would have grave repercussions: the closure of City Airport.

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Being an us instead of a them

I went for a long run Tuesday evening before eating dinner and coming to work.

During the hour or so I was gone, I received several emails from various factions in the McNichols Road and City Airport saga.

One came from an attorney for one of the members of Detroit City Council. A second came from a current resident of the community who waited out Council's delay Tuesday morning and addressed her concerns about McNichols Road to the body. A third came from a former resident who tells me that the executive director for Friends of City Airport wishes to speak with me.

All of which got me to thinking about just how we arrived at this point: McNichols closed between Conner and French, the airport still without a major expansion, an entire neighborhood devastated, businesses ruined, hundreds of children stuck in this hellhole and plenty of folks clamoring about what needs to happen next.

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Barack Obama vs. Edith Floyd

In the end, most were never heard.

Barack Obama's words meant more to Detroit City Council on Tuesday than the words of the average citizen.

Councilmembers, who met with Obama Tuesday morning, delayed their regular session long enough to send most of the working-class folks back to their jobs without getting a chance to talk about reopening McNichols Road, their City Airport concerns and a host of other problems throughout Detroit's neighborhoods.

Of the approximately 15 people that were there to address the McNichols Road issue, only three were able to stay and speak to Council.

Here's the big problem, with Council's decision to delay Tuesday's session -- and what's become of government at nearly every level: They've forgotten whom they represent and how to do the right thing instead of the easy thing or the special-interest thing or the glamorous thing.

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What about Joe?

"Government for the people, by the people."

Yeah, right.

While at least 15 people waited to voice their collective concern about McNichols Road and City Airport, the Detroit City Council this morning delayed its scheduled 10 a.m. meeting to visit with Democratic presidential hopeful Barack Obama.

Most of the ordinary citizens who showed up to talk about McNichols and the airport -- and dozens of others who were there to discuss different areas of concern throughout the city -- took time off from work to do so. It's money out of their pockets during very tough times in this city. The extra hour or so these folks spent waiting for Council could have huge implications on their dinner tables and in their gas tanks.

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Back to City Council

Another appearance in front of Detroit City Council, another step forward in the effort to reopen McNichols Road, between Conner and French, and get real answers on the plan for City Airport.

Dan Sienkiewicz, a former resident of the area and current business owner there, and Edith Floyd, a current resident and president of the neighborhood CB patrol, spoke in front of the Public Health & Safety Committee, chaired by Councilwoman Alberta Tinsley-Talabi, Monday morning.

By the end of the session, Tinsley-Talabi's committee had ordered a public hearing on City Airport on July 7 and started the process of creating an ordinance, binding legislation, to reopen McNichols. Tuesday's vote on a resolution to reopen McNichols is an important first step but is non-binding.

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Written support of resolution

Some of you have asked how to support JoAnn Watson's resolution to reopen McNichols Road, between Conner and French, without attending Tuesday's Detroit City Council meeting at 10 a.m. Yes, the day and time would tend to conflict with most people's work schedule.

I suspect writing to Ms. Watson at WatsonJ@cncl.ci.detroit.mi.us or to council president Kenneth V. Cockrel Jr.'s office at bowersr@cncl.ci.detroit.mi.us would be the right answer.

Happy Father's Day

Me and Dad at Tiger Stadium in 1968.

It's hard to get my father to reminisce about our Dobel Street days like I do.

It's not that he hates that time in his life; it's just that most of his time back then was spent working on a printing press -- often seven days a week, 12 hours a day, in sweatshop conditions.

Because of his hectic work schedule, if you ask Michael Happy Sr. about being a father between 1964-1976, he almost sounds apologetic -- sorry he couldn't spend more time with his children.

I'm sorry he feels that way.

Regardless of what Dad had to do to put a roof over our heads and dinner on the table, send us to a private Catholic school and keep us safe, he still found time for us. Frankly, I don't know how.

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Father Rakoczy to retire

Father Richard S. Rakoczy, who led the interfaith service at Shield of Faith (formerly Holy Name) on March 30, will be retiring at the end of this month.

Father Rakoczy's first assignment was at Holy Name, from June 1959 to June 1963. He is now the pastor at St. Perpetua in Waterford Township.

Congratulations, Father Rakoczy, for nearly 50 years of service. And thanks for joining us back home this past spring.

A resolution

The McNichols barrier.

Detroit City Council's Neighborhood and Community Services Committee, chaired by JoAnn Watson, put a resolution on the books today to reopen McNichols Road (between Conner and French) effective immediately.

It is my understanding that the resolution and an ordinance will be voted on during a full Council session Tuesday at 10 a.m.

"Twenty years is long enough (to keep the road closed)," Watson said.

Read more! »

Meeting with the bosses

I had an interesting philosophical conversation this evening with two of my bosses, Managing Editor Donald W. Nauss and Director of Recruiting and Community Affairs Walter Middlebrook.

I approached them because I feel like I'm in uncharted territory, and these two men have been in this business a long time and almost always get it right. Blogs are still fairly new to the newspaper industry, and using one in the name of social justice or to expose wrongdoing is pretty rare on a major metropolitan paper's website. As an author of such a blog, I was looking for some guidance tonight -- how to continue to walk the fine line between journalism and activism.

We all agreed that blogs are different; their authors tend to be more columnist than reporter. We also came to the conclusion that much more discussion needs to happen about our blogs on detnews.com and that we must find a way to expand this blog into other neighborhoods as soon as possible.

Some might consider this blog preferential treatment for the McNichols and Van Dyke area -- although I'll argue to my grave that this neighborhood has been ignored for too long and deserves some extra tenderhearted care.

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Summer programs at Fletcher Field

Sundays in the park begin June 22.

Sometimes it gets a little heated on this blog -- as should be expected when emotional topics such as race and politics are discussed.

Like I've said before, I think these things should be talked about because they're a big part of the history of the neighborhood around Fletcher Field and will continue play a major role as we move forward.

But we should not lose focus on how this whole effort started nearly a year ago. It began because the park was in shambles and kids still played there.

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The closure of McNichols

The former Villanova Pizza sits vacant on McNichols, east of the barricade.

Twenty years ago, while the neighborhood around McNichols and Van Dyke was already struggling with a host of problems, the City of Detroit -- for all intents and purposes -- gave it a death sentence.

Despite major protests by area residents and businesses on both sides of the proposed border -- plus a Southeast Michigan Council of Governments assessment that said closing McNichols near the intersection of Van Dyke would be a disaster for the neighborhood -- the city did it anyway. It "temporarily" closed the road for "five years" until an expansion plan could be completed at City Airport.

Last night we met a lot of new faces during a meeting at Mt. Olivet Cemetery, which was called to prepare for another appearance in front of City Council on Thursday. The new faces are actually old ones in this battle to save the neighborhood from the airport expansion plan that never was -- likely never will be. Yes, the coalition continues to grow.

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All helpers welcome

Talking about wanting to get more people involved in the city brings up something that has been bugging me since I read it, a comment that suggested that Happy should move into the city to really help Detroit.

We want people who care about the Detroit to feel they can become more involved in the city again, to feel like they are welcome to help the neighborhoods they still love.

With that as our goal, what do we gain by calling people out to go live in the city, like it is some test they have to pass, and making it sound like the alternative is to shut up and stop trying?

Detroit is in rough enough shape that I am not willing to discourage anyone who cares and wants to help. Not a single person.

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And now a word from the Dobel Street Kid

Me and Lou at yesterday's parade.

Sometimes I forget that I'm not in New York anymore, don't always have to wax poetic -- even get a little pretentious -- to be heard.

When I lose my Dobel Steet Kid edge, try to be somebody I'm not, I think I also lose the ability to get my point across.

So here's how the Dobel Street Kid would have written those last two posts:

As a guy born and raised in arguably the most racially divided city in the world, I thinks it's pretty cool that a black person has earned the Democratic nomination for President of the United States. It means we've made progress, and I like Barack Obama's message.

Is he going to fix our broken world by himself? Absolutely not. Does he have the ability to motivate the masses to bring about real change? I think he does.

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My kind of parade

That's nice, but ...

Every time a professional sports team in Detroit wins a title you always see something like this in your local paper:

Fans -- young and old, of every color and creed -- shook hands, exchanged high-fives, embraced each other in celebration. The champion Red Wings (Piston, Tigers, Lions, ummm, strike the Lions from the list) brought people together, unified the city.

We like to read these stories, see these images. They give us hope.

My only problem is that sports championships and the celebrations that follow are short-lived. They're also inconsequential. Does vanquishing a hockey team from Pittsburgh -- with Penguins on their chests -- really make us awesome? And none of us even did the vanquishing.

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Obama makes history, offers hope for Detroit

Where we are.

In our country, I have found that this cooperation happens not because we agree on everything, but because behind all the labels and false divisions and categories that define us; beyond all the petty bickering and point-scoring in Washington, Americans are a decent, generous, compassionate people, united by common challenges and common hopes. And every so often, there are moments which call on that fundamental goodness to make this country great again. -- Sen. Barack Obama in St. Paul, Minn., Tuesday night

Whether you support him or not, this is a historical night. In this city, perhaps more than in any other city in the world, an African-American earning a major party's nomination for President of the United States has enormous implications. Obama defies longtime idiotic stereotypes; he denies long-believed insurmountable barriers.

Hell, nobody in this town, white or black, could have seen this night coming back in the summer of '67 when the city burned because of a lethal combination -- injustice, inclination, inaction, incentive and insanity.

Where we were.

I, for one, have been inspired by Obama's words throughout the primary season because they're complementary to our work at Fletcher Field. I am hopeful, if Obama is elected, he is more than just words, can bring about real change in a country that has a myriad of problems to overcome.

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Surprise party at Fletcher Field

Celebrating No. 44 at Fletcher Field.

Thank you, Imogene and Rev. Wesley Johnson from Shield of Faith, for today's surprise. To me, there's no better place for a birthday party than Fletcher Field.

It was great to have my family, parents, dear friends and so many children from the neighborhood there, too. We'll just keep planting those shade trees and hope they take root.

God bless you both. He certainly blessed me by bringing you two into my life.

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Sunday in the park, 2:30 p.m.

F3 fishing trip.

We're still a few weeks away from starting our Sunday in the park programs for the kids, but some in our group have decided that we should gather at Fletcher Field tomorrow, 2:30 p.m., anyway and get a head start on the summer. So we will.

The rain took away any chance for a softball game after our May 17 cleanup at the park. We can make up for that and do the kite thing again -- as long as the wind isn't blowing east toward the airport. The planes for the Red Bull Air Race are based out of City Airport and will likely be buzzing in and out of the facility all day, which could be fun to watch.

There are still plenty of hot dogs left from May 17 that we can grill up, too.

See ya out there.

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Strength in numbers

Still work to do on the master plan... an abandoned airplane at City Airport.

Delbert Brown, director of the Coleman A. Young International Airport, also known as City Airport, came to a City Airport Renaissance Association meeting a couple of nights ago to update the group on what is going on at the airport.

At the meeting, Brown presented a brief overview of current business and future plans at the airport, then took questions from meeting attendees.

And as you might expect if you've ever tried to get concrete answers on the airport, little new or specific information came out of the airport discussion, and Mr. Brown's answers clearly reflected the city's desire to avoid oversight as it carries out its plans in and around City Airport.

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A call from the Bishop. Church not for sale.

Bishop Jennings.

Bishop Jennings just called, wanted to ensure me that Shield of Faith is not going out of business.

"Absolutely not," he said. "We're just testing the market. It's a marketing strategy to expand the ministry."

Bishop Jennings said he just wants to know what the church campus property is worth, and that he and his congregation will continue to fight the good fight at 13600 Van Dyke.

Hopefully, we'll be able to help him.

Church for sale

Shield of Faith is for sale.

Shield of Faith pastor Bishop James Alvin Jennings Jr. made an announcement at Bible study today: His church campus, formerly the Holy Name of Jesus campus, is on the market.

Click here to read the listing.

I haven't been able to talk with Bishop Jennings about his decision to sell the church. I do know, based on several conversations with various members of the congregation, that the church is struggling financially.

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Indelible marks

There are some images your mind can never erase, no matter how hard you try.

For me, there are three to date -- two from my Navy career back in the late 1980s and one of very recent vintage. All three feature the kind of poverty most of us probably will never face.

The first took place in the Philippines, just outside a former U.S. military base, Subic Bay Naval Station. I was returning to my ship, USS Cimarron, after a night out on the main drag, Magsaisai Boulevard, when I heard a soft, desperate voice to my left, near the base's main gate.

"Please help me," said the voice.

I turned my head and saw a young woman sitting cross-legged on the ground. She was half-naked and breast-feeding a baby. What little clothes she had on were tattered. She was barefooted. Her hair was a tangled mess. Her eyes were full of despair.

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The best we've got

I don't mind touting the competition, The Detroit Free Press, particularly when there's something relevant to Detroit's neighborhoods. Plus, we should all be on the same team when it comes to making the city a better place to live and visit.

Thumbing through Sunday's Free Press, I came across a column by Stephen Henderson, "A look at the 'best we've got'," that really struck a nerve with me. It's about a coalition similar to Friends of Fletcher Field -- except this particular group, the Brightmoor Alliance, is more established, bigger and operates on the city's northwest side.

Henderson caught up with the Brightmoor Alliance at the coalition's annual get-together and awards ceremony.

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Mayor in 2002: Fix or shut City Airport

I met today with Paul Grimm, whose father and uncle ran the greenhouse on Van Dyke -- right across from Forest Lawn Cemetery -- until tragedy struck the family in the early 1980s.

Paul's family still owns the property where the business once thrived, and he was out there cutting the grass this morning.

"We have 2 acres, and after five years on the market, can't give it away," Paul said.

Paul's story sounded similar in tone and theme to many I have heard during the last year. It featured unfulfilled promises, disappointment, threats and utter frustration. In the end, as the stories usually do, it centered on City Airport, how expansion plans have held the neighborhood surrounding the facility hostage for more than 30 years.

"It's just not right," Paul said. "Something has to be done."

Paul agreed to join the effort to work with Detroit City Council to reopen McNichols Road near Van Dyke and get real answers on airport expansion. He then handed me a copy of a Detroit News article dated March 20, 2002.

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Watering the garden

Thomas has lived across from Fletcher Playground for 28 years.

His business card says he does home improvements, and he takes good care of his house and yard.

Thomas on his front porch

He'd like to do more to fix up his own home, maybe install more energy efficient windows or put windows in his basement, but he heard his house is in the next wave of airport annexation, and he doesn't want to spend money on improvements if the place is going to be demolished in six months.

There's been talk of expansion ever since he moved in, he acknowledged, but it sounds like he thinks the city is finally ready to finish off the buffer zone once and for all. He and his wife have been looking for new places to live on their computer, planning where they will move when they are bought out.

When I told him that one of the people in our group had lived in the neighborhood in the 1950s and this man's parents had fretted even then over whether to stay or leave because of the airport, Thomas just shook his head.

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I'm from Detroit. My kids are from Michigan.

When the Columbia Journalism Review reporter, Megan Garber, left my house yesterday, my two youngest children were devastated.

Megan, in town to do a story about this blog, stopped by to ask me a few more questions before she headed to the airport and then back to New York.

My little ones, Amanda and Shaun, were immediately taken by Megan because she looked very much like the woman who used to baby-sit them when my family lived in NYC.

Megan explained to them that she couldn't stay here; she had to return to New York, her home, just like Detroit was their home. In unison, the two of them said: "We're not from Detroit; we're from Michigan."

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Friends of Fletcher Field go to City Council

Detroit's City Council discussed drafting a resolution to re-open the section of McNichols Road closed by City Airport at its Evening Community Meeting in Brightmoor Tuesday night.

Members of the Detroit City Council at Leland Missionary Baptist Church, in Brightmoor

Council President Kenneth Cockrel, Jr. also asked that the City Airport Authority hold a meeting with City Airport-area residents and concerned citizens within the next 30 days to update them on the airport's expansion plans, and he asked that Council's Public Health and Safety Committee hold a public hearing on the plans, as well.

None of us were quite sure what would happen when we decided to ask the Detroit City Council for help in figuring out the city's airport plan, when it would be completed, and if Council would consider re-opening Six Mile Road in the interim to make life better for those living nearby.

We have begun to find donors willing to invest in the park and the neighborhood, but when they ask about the area's future, up until now, we have only been able to explain the situation with the airport and ask for patience as we try to sort out what is going on.

Last night, we took our first steps toward finding some answers.

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Asking for the truth

Just a reminder, Friends of Fletcher Field will be appearing in front of Detroit City Council tonight in search of answers: the city's plan for the airport and the neighborhoods around it, and a schedule for completion of that plan.

The open City Council meeting will be at 7 p.m.

Leland Missionary Baptist Church

The location:
The Leland Missionary Baptist Church
22420 Fenkell
Detroit, Michigan 48223
Phone: (313) 538-7077
- Google map of the location: http://tinyurl.com/53jlf9
- For more information, contact Ken Cockrel, Jr.’s office at 313-224-4505.

Your support, in body or spirit, would be greatly appreciated.

Taking the garage out to the garbage

Pulling weeds on the baseball diamond.

Thanks to Michael Flinoil, a City of Detroit park maintenance supervisor, for doing the heavy lifting -- cutting the grass, whacking the weeds, dropping off a dumpster --- before Saturday's cleanup/picnic at Fletcher Field. You and your crew did a wonderful job.

And God bless all of the folks who showed up at the park on Saturday. The baseball diamond looks fantastic, and the park has never had a more beautiful garden.

A bit of trivia for the masses?

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Rain dance

"Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain." -- Author Unknown

Just remember that if a little rain decides to fall on our cleanup/picnic at Fletcher Field on Saturday.

The weatherman says the showers will be on the light side and intermittent anyway. We should be fine.

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What next? Asking for the plan

After the Holy Name reunion and interfaith service, people have been asking me and Happy "what next?"

Many have offered their time and money to help out the old neighborhood, but without knowing the city's plan for the area, we aren't sure what we should do.

There are bright spots: Edith's garden, Fletcher Playground, pockets of well-kept houses, vibrant churches and the Shield of Faith/Holy Name campus.

But most of the area is in bad shape, no kind of place to grow up for the hundreds of children who still live there, and the shadow of City Airport hangs over any substantial attempts we might make to fix things up.

It's long past time that residents of this community get concrete answers about the city's airport plans. So to figure out what next, we are first going to try to find some answers. And you are all invited to help.

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The monsters again

Robert is a U.S. Army veteran who wears his battle scars mostly on the inside.

People in the old neighborhood say he served in Vietnam, but he looks too young for that. He probably fought in George Bush Sr.'s war, helped chase Iraq's vaunted Republican Guard out of Kuwait.

One thing is certain: Whatever war Robert fought in took its toll on him.

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Preparing for this Saturday's park cleanup

Four members of the Happy family, Imogene and I met in the park Tuesday to check out exactly what needs to be done this Saturday.

The park is in pretty good shape, overall. The swings are up and in working order, the rest of the equipment still has a good coat of paint, there is a new net on the basketball rim (not sure who did that, but thanks whoever you are!), and the grass has been cut.

There is definitely still work to be done on Saturday, though, so make sure to come out and pitch in!

This Saturday, May 17, we will be working on projects from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m., then we'll be enjoying an afternoon in the park with a BYOP (Bring Your Own Picnic) lunch, kite-flying and softball.

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Things that make you go hmmmmm

What's Matty Moroun doing on Dobel?

Director Delbert Brown appeared in front of Detroit City Council last Wednesday and claimed very little is going on at Coleman A. Young International Airport (City Airport) right now.

According to Brown, high fuel costs are killing airlines across the country. As a result, his operation is not currently looking for a commercial airline for City Airport. They're simply cleaning up the terminal in hopes of attracting more private planes, and council seemed less than impressed with the revenue potential for that plan.

Still, the airport continues to buy up houses in the area and has upped the payment for said houses. A good source told me the other day that some properties have recently sold for more than $130,000, even though Sunday's real-estate section had most homes in Detroit listed at under $30,000. Hmmm.

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Good answer?

Jonathan Morgan and I found ourselves on the other side of the microphone this afternoon when a film crew from the "Columbia Journalism Review" interviewed us about "Going Home" and our hands-on work around McNichols and Van Dyke.

I must admit, being interviewed is one of my least favorite things in the world. For the most part, I'm an introvert and very shy. Those of you who had to suffer through my speech at the Holy Name reunion dinner saw firsthand how much I struggle in the spotlight.

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Jon Stewart lampoons Kwame Kilpatrick

Leave it to "The Daily Show with Jon Stewart" to put Detroit Mayor Kwame Kilpatrick's antics into perspective.

This would be hilarious if it were about another city's mayor and not ours.

Click here to watch the video.

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Gone fishin'

For the past several weeks, there has been a lot of talk about fishing in my close circle of family and friends.

It started shortly before the Holy Name Neighborhood Reunion. The running joke among some of the reunion committee members was that after the event ended, it was time to pull a Simon Peter, who during a weak moment after Jesus' death talked about leaving his apostle gig to go back to sea and his simple life as a fisherman.

Hey, we were tired. The lead up to the reunion was pretty grueling, especially when one considers that the reunion planning was done in our "spare time."

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Kite update, and we're gearing up for May 17

After seeing Imogene's husband become Pastor Johnson (congratulations Pastor Johnson and everyone else who was ordained on Sunday!), I drove down Dobel Street to check on the wayward kite.

The kite is still okay...

It is pretty high up, but the kite is still in one piece, hanging over Jimmy's old house. I have no idea if we're going to be able to get it down. Maybe if Jimmy climbs onto his old roof he'll be able to jump over onto the tree that is holding the kite, then shimmy out on the branch and free it. He should probably wear a football helmet or something, and we can all hold a sheet taut beneath him to catch him if he falls... Honest. We'll catch you Jimmy.

We also had our Friends of Fletcher Field meeting tonight at Happy's mom's house. The park cleanup is set for May 17. Cleanup will run from 10 a.m. to 1 p.m., then we'll be picnicking and playing in the park. There's a rumor there might even be a bocce ball set there.

Read more! »

May 17 cleanup

I know this is last minute, but we're meeting tonight, 7 p.m., at my parents' house in Roseville to discuss the May 17 cleanup at Fletcher Field.

If you'd like to get involved in the planning process and can attend tonight, shoot me off an email ASAP mjhappyii@hotmail.com.

Bel-Air Drive-In

I'm not sure what the best part was.

Leaving the house in my pajamas? Staying up late? Swinging on the swings right in front of the giant screen? The dancing snacks making their pitch for the refreshment bar? The real snacks, buttered popcorn and sticky cotton candy? Seeing Jan-Michael Vincent's character in Disney's "The World's Greatest Athlete" as big as my house on Dobel?

There was just something about going to the drive-in that made it feel like Christmas in the middle of summer.

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Extreme makeover

No doubt about it now, what started as a little park project last fall is gaining momentum and capturing the imagination of people who have the ability to see beyond today.

When Edith Floyd and I met with Mike from the City of Detroit General Services Department at Fletcher Field on Wednesday, he looked around and saw "lots of potential."

Today, Edith tells me that City of Detroit workers informed her that they will join us at the park on May 17 (10 a.m.), making Fletcher Field one of their centerpieces for the Motor City Makeover, a spring cleaning initiative to take place in different parts of the city over the next three Saturdays.

Read more! »

Spring comes to Fletcher Field, and our lost kite is found!

I like cold weather, but even I've been counting down the days until Spring really comes and we can start playing in the park again.

Spring has finally arrived at Fletcher Field.

In preparation, Happy and I walked over to see how Fletcher Field was doing last Saturday after we saw Pastor Jennings become Bishop Jennings.

It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day and though the grass already needs mowing and there are a few more tire ruts in the field than we'd like, the flowers we planted last year are starting to come up, the grass looks healthy and green, the ball diamond is pretty much weed-free thanks to Brian Happy and Jim Morey spreading weed killer earlier this Spring, and Edith says the neighborhood kids are already out enjoying the park.

Read more! »

More upkeep at Fletcher Field

Start by doing what's necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible. -- St. Francis of Assisi

Marvel Cheeks, director of the city's Adopt-a-Lot/Park Program, told me late last fall that if our coalition could prove our dedication to Fletcher Field to the City of Detroit, then the city would do its part to help restore and maintain the park.

Well, the coalition did the necessary, then the possible from August until November last year.

Read more! »

What's right with Wright

Take a look at Neal Rubin's column today. It's a good read and tells a neat story about Rev. Jeremiah Wright Jr. coming to the rescue of an interracial marriage:

Rev. Wright reflects how color echoes perceptions

I must admit, despite my strong feelings against having Rev. Wright speak in Detroit, I enjoyed and was even inspired by his words Sunday night.

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Ready to rumble

Last Thursday, after a meeting at Shield of Faith to discuss City Airport, Happy and I decided to check on the school before we left for home.

The church has put a lot of time and money into the place and we hope to help find a tenant for it, and after someone had broken into the school the weekend before, Happy and I just wanted to make sure everything was still OK.

So after the meeting wound down, we walked over to the school in the crisp night air to see how it was doing.

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How about an 8 Mile Road block party?

As my former friend and colleague Joe Falls used to write, "just thinking out loud:"

How about a block party right in the middle of 8 Mile Road -- our self-imposed dividing line between the city and the burbs?

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'Amazing Grace,' Bishop Jennings and the mayor

This just came via email from a friend: "Amazing Grace" like you've never understood it before.

I think you'll agree, it fits perfectly into what we're trying to accomplish in the old neighborhood.

Video: "Just the Black Notes"

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Home is where the heart is

A reader asked me Thursday night about the blog's name, "Going Home:" Is it really appropriate considering the area around McNichols and Van Dyke looks very little like it did when I was growing up there?

My answer is, absolutely. Dobel Street will always remain home in my heart, regardless of how it looks. I mean, geez, should a man leave his wife -- the love of his life -- just because she doesn't continue to look like her wedding picture for their remaining days together?

At times, it's striking how familiar the old neighborhood feels in spite of its current appearance. For instance, last night when we were leaving the old Holy Name convent building, now an activities center at Shield of Faith, a sense of deja vu overcame me.

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Resurrection Academy

I have been informed by a colleague, Pistons writer Joanne Gerstner, that this blog is being monitored by a rebel alliance on the east side. The group is angry with the Archdiocese of Detroit for closing their high schools: Bishop Gallagher, Notre Dame, Star of the Sea, Dominican, etc.

Just before the Holy Name Neighborhood Reunion, Joanne asked me if I would champion their cause. A Notre Dame graduate myself, I would love see its doors open again -- either in Harper Woods or someplace else.

But the Archdiocese is what it is, does what it wants and is led by infallible men with big hats. Really, how do you fight that with a blog?

Here's what we can do:

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The tractor lady

While most of us talk about rebuilding in the old neighborhood, Edith Floyd has other desires.

Edith, who heads the Mt. Olivet Neighborhood CB Patrol, doesn't mind that the area is going to prairie. A Mt. Olivet Street resident for more than 30 years, she saw the neighborhood at its absolute worst in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

Today, she enjoys the relative solitude, and when Edith looks at the bounty of empty lots in the area, she sees potential farmland.

"I like it this way," she said. "We could have gardens everywhere."

Read more! »

What's it all about?

Why are you living in the past?

Why don't you write more about the past?

Why are you getting so political?

Why don't you write more about what can be done to improve the neighborhood?

Why are you so serious?

Why don't you write about more serious issues?

And my favorite of them all: That's not what this blog is supposed to be about.

Really, I appreciate your feedback. I am honored and humbled that anybody cares what I have to say.

But I cannot be all things to all people. I've been following my gut for nearly a year now, writing what I think works best on any given day to motivate people to get involved, help the old neighborhood and all of Detroit finally turn the corner.

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Going forward

Says one of our readers this morning:

I agree with bigalski and d.p.; please take this political debate off blog. For us HN'ers, this blog was a link to our past. Let us enjoy our reminiscing about happy times and sad, remembering the days of our youth. I'd like to hear about those tennis ball cannons!

Reminiscing is fine. We can do that from time to time. But living in the past isn't the purpose of the blog. We must deal with the political mechanism to move forward.

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A touching email

Dear Mike:

I grew up at Van Dyke and 7 Mile, on Robinwood. My grandparents used to live on Nurenberg, but stayed with Holy Name after they moved. I was baptized in the old Holy Name Church, and remember when the new Church on Van Dyke opened. I vaguely remember Fr. Graber. When I was 7, my parents moved to the westside, and I was very upset. I loved going to Church with Grandma and Grandpa!

Subsequently, I spent many summers with them, and an awful lot of weekends. We always went to Mass. I so wanted to go to school there; not being particularly happy at home, and just loving to be with my grandparents. This is going back a long time, but my mother went to school there in the '20's and 30's, and graduated from the school. I am a few years older than you, because I was quite young when the Church on Van Dyke opened.

I don't know how I heard about the reunion Mass, but I felt I had to come anyway, even though I didn't go to school there. I had many friends in the neighborhood, one of them, my friend Beverly Gadzinski died of cancer when we were both 12...she would have graduated in 1961. Her Grandmother lived across the street from my Grandma, and they were "gossiping buddies". My entire family was buried from Holy Name.

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Flying time

A breezy spring day, a neighborhood park, a dozen kites and plenty of string.

Nothing incredibly enticing or, on the other end of the spectrum, threatening present. No hyperbole by an orator or politician needed.

The end result was an afternoon to remember for about 40 people -- young and old, black and white, city residents and suburbanites.

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It's a go

Not a lot of wind today, but the rain looks like it's going to hold off.

So let's go fly our kites, 2 p.m. at Fletcher Field.

Back in April 2005, 10,000 kites for peace were launched at Israel's Apartheid Wall. Today, perhaps we could launch our kites for peace in the neighborhood and all of Detroit. Let them be a symbol of what pastor Jennings said after the interfaith service, flying "in a new dimension."

Rain, rain stay away

Well, the weather report is not promising for Sunday. So I guess we'll have to take a wait-and-see approach for our kite-flying plans.

Let's shoot for 2 p.m. at Fletcher Field if the rain holds off. If not, then we'll just put it off for another week.

Check the blog around 1 p.m. on Sunday for the final verdict.

Hope to see you soon.

Divide and rule

The following is Laura Berman's column that appeared in today's Detroit News. I offer it to you in its entirety because I want to make a point at the end:

Racial issues define our lives

The mayor was back on his game.

He stood on a Birmingham stage at a $65 a plate business forum, dishing out grand-slam sized portions of Kwame the Good, Kwame the Brave, Kwame the Mayor who can lead.

And yet the news isn't his continuing relationship with the area's business community, a polite and well-heeled group of pragmatists, who neither heckled nor challenged the mayor during a brave, public foray into Oakland County.

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Running in Mt. Olivet

Thirty-five years ago, they kicked me out of the place -- no questions asked.

"You kids don't belong here," they said. "This is no place to run around."

Unless it's after hours and you just happen to know the director.

Then Mt. Olivet Cemetery becomes the perfect place -- beautiful, peaceful, solitary -- to run around.

That's just what I did Thursday evening when cemetery director Mark Gracely invited me and Jonathan Morgan to join him on a 4-mile run around Mt. Olivet. Mark's says there'