Motor City

I’ve been lax this summer about writing. My mind has been elsewhere, preoccupied.

When we first moved here we heard a lot of talk about Detroit and Michigan from the locals. Most of them had family up there, or had migrated there for a spell themselves and returned. Before during and after World War II people from here left the farm for the promise of factory jobs in the north. Any way to make a living seemed like the promised land for those who’d grown up poor and could only look forward to more prospects f the same. Those who left were either ambitious, or had no land and no options other than moving away from here.

We learned, too, Tennessee never was far from their heart. These folks would return yearly in many cases, just to be back home, sit in a familiar porch swing and look out on a vista they knew as well as the back of the hand. When they reached retirement age many turned South for the lifestyle which no longer existed. It had changed with them, some remained others eventually decided they liked the life they found up North better, and returned to it. A few never truly found a sense of pace. They longed for they old homestead, but they couldn’t stand to be away from the excitement and choices of the city life for too long.

In its day, though, the good thing about Detroit was it was a place to dream to. This year, with unemployment high, there are no Detroits. People are getting by, and it’s somebody else’s problem until you’re out of work.