My reaction of anger and shock to a Community Spotlight diary posted this past week about Detroit caused me to be very introspective and look at what I really think and feel about Detroit. I recognized that I need to say more than could be covered in a comment, and so after many years of reading and commenting, I'm writing my first diary.
I am very sad about Detroit and I cry as I write this. I grew up in Ann Arbor about 60 miles west of Detroit and in the late 1940's my Mom, my Grandmother and I would drive to the Big "D" for an exciting wonderous day at Hudson's Department Store. The elevators were so beautiful! We would have lunch at Greenfields, which included a grilled cheese sandwich and chocolate sundae. It was such a beautiful adventure. The sky scrapers were magnificent. The crowds were exciting. I was in awe every time we came.
I moved to the Detroit area in the 1960's for my husband's career and even then his parents objected to the house I wanted to buy in Detroit because of concern for its investment value. We didn't buy the house and in terms of money, they were right.
We all know the Detroit story from then on, at least the superficial details. I have always lived in a north Detroit suburb and my children grew up in the best area public schools. We have been very privileged. And I'm crying again. Some guilt, some powerlessness, some confusion, some outrage and deep grief.
I remember the riots. I had 3 children under 4, my husband worked full time and was in law school, and I worked part time as a nurse. There was very little time to worry about riots or Detroit but I remember sitting in my backyard watching the red yellow sky from the burning fires in Detroit. And now I'm crying again.
I guess you just get numb. Life goes on. You take a privileged trip out west or down south in your motor home. Your children grow and you grow older. You hug your grandchildren and enjoy your life. You go to the concerts and the Art Museum downtown, all while Detroit is sinking deeper and deeper into dysfunction.
Numbness: it works for awhile. Its the same kind of numbness I experienced powerlessly watching my Mom die of alcoholism. Maybe that was practice for watching Detroit die and not cry.
Detroit is an American Tragedy. The causes are very complex. Detroit, past, present and future, is a part of the American story, yours and mine. Right now I'm not talking about the future. There are lots of green sprouts coming up in Detroit. I'm feeling (and writing about) what my numbness has been covering: the incredible pain of this Tragedy. And that seems to be all I can do at this moment: cry and grieve. There was a book written long ago by someone when just diagnosed with breast cancer: "First You Cry". So right now for the second time ever I'm crying about Detroit. The first time I cried was on a recent social work tour of SW Detroit. It touched me in deeply positive and sad ways but in that moment I wasn't aware of the extent of my grief. Today I cry with a depth of grief.
And I have a plea. Please don't come to Detroit this summer for the NN convention with scorn and detached criticism. Please understand that we are living a tragedy here and have compassion for what everyone is going through, even those of us who are numb.
The diary that triggered my writing really hurt, unintentionally I'm sure, because of its apparent lack of compassion and a lack of compassion from some of the commenters. Thank you for getting my attention. I really mean that. I'm very appreciative of the diary. I'm crying again. But it also made me dread the NN convention. Is this some of what we're going to get when you all come. How will I cope with that? 'Maybe I won't attend', I thought.
Please come with a loving heart. Understand that it's tough around here for so many people. And I ask the same of myself, "Please Sydney (that's me), have a loving heart when you don't understand something, when you jump to conclusions, when you forget that all things are about people, human vulnerable people."
I'm posting this before I regret being so vulnerable with all of you. And I thank you for reading.
