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Hamtramck

Sep 22, 2008

The future builds a future

by Citizen editors — last modified Sep 22, 2008 10:52 AM

To ensure the future of Hamtramck and Detroit, the schools must be fixed.

 


I was at a party last night for a friend who is moving to Boston. It was in Royal Oak, a bunch of art kids talking about Adobe PhotoShop, or something. There was a keg, and chip dip, and cookies, so I was OK – or at least until it all ran out.

The backyard was filled with dudes sporting beards and plaid shirts and girls with bangs on their foreheads and high heels on their feet. I remember thinking to myself, "How do these girls walk on this cracked and uneven slab of concrete back here?" It was one of those backyards that has a huge cracked and uneven square slab of concrete right outside the back door, and then a whole yard of lawn.

Anyway, I found myself leaning against the house's siding, next to a window air conditioner, which was turned on for some reason. I was part of a circle of people – and I was lucky enough to be the one leaning against the house. There were about four or five of us and each one slowly migrated to another circle or into the house to refill their red plastic cup. Eventually it was a girl I sort of know and I.

"So," she says, "Hamtramck or Ferndale?"

She knew I lived in Hamtramck for a few years, she showed up to a few of my parties at the various houses I've lived in, and she knew that I had moved to Ferndale about a year ago.

"I miss Hamtramck," I replied.

She lives in Royal Oak.

"Yeah, I love Hamtramck," she says. "But, you know, I don't know if I could live there."

"Why?"

"Well, it's not the safest place and I'm a single young girl." She's 23 or 24, around there.

People always scoff at the crime in Detroit and Hamtramck. "It's not that dangerous," they say. "Come on! It's not a big deal," they also say.

Well, it is a big deal if people feel threatened by crime – regardless if it is high or low. Perception, unfortunately, is reality.

"I understand that," I say. "I mean, I generally don't feel threatened, but I wouldn't raise a family there, I wouldn't buy a house there, I wouldn't settle there."

I love Hamtramck, I do. I love it even though my bike was stolen. For me, as a young adult (semi-professional even though I have a beard and holes in my shoes), living in Hamtramck is still ideal. It's cheap, it's walkable, some of my favorite bars are scattered through out its borders, it's close to work and Detroit. But in 10 years? If I'm married and she's pregnant with (I hope) my baby, what then? Hamtramck?

It's not a knock. It's a legitimate truth. And something that should be examined. People talk about the lack of grocery stores in Detroit, for instance. How about the lack of a quality education - I'm not talking university or private schools. What about the chaos that is the public school system?

Tom Niczay, Hamtramck Public Schools superintendent, is doing his best to bring the public schools here in Hamtramck back to life. And I believe he is doing a fantastic job. I find him passionate and invested in Hamtramck and its future.

 

Attracting people to Hamtramck (and Detroit) might start with loft developments, cool bars and restaurants, interesting events, and grocery stores but to keep these people, to retain a population, to build a community and a sense of place, I think at least, it starts with the school bell.

When these "young professionals" start getting older and wanting to settle down what then? If the school system isn't secured here in Hamtramck, and completely retooled in Detroit, all the work to bring people back to the city will be for not, 'cause they'll just leave when it's time to send their kids to school.

Now, there are exceptions. And I'm sure there are cases disproving what I just said … but think about it. Would you send your child to a Detroit public school if you had another option? If you could afford to move, set up shop somewhere else, what would you do?

"So would you move back?" she asked me.

"Yes, I would," I say. And I finished my beer and went inside to get some of that chip dip before it was all gone.

Aug 27, 2008

I'm in love

by Citizen editors — last modified Aug 28, 2008 11:38 AM

 

It happened so fast. If I had been blinking I would have missed it. It was like catching the tail end of a comet that only comes around every 76 years. Or, maybe, grabbing a glimpse of a unicorn through a gap in the trees of some mythical forest.

Well, that may be getting a bit out of hand, but it was like that. It was something that I had only seen on TV, in the movies. In that small instance, through my friend's car window, on Charest in Hamtramck, I saw a unicorn, I saw a comet, and I fell in love.

Yeah, I know, it's really getting out of hand now.

All right, but seriously, I saw Ellen Page. That actress from "Juno," she played Kitty Pryde in "X-Men: The Last Stand," and she's starring in Drew Barrymore's new film "Whip-It!"

And they're filming a few scenes of the latter film in Hamtramck, on Charest, in the high school, where I saw her.

Coming back from dinner at Bengal Masala I told a friend to keep going straight down Charest so we could check out the commotion of Hamtramck-turned-Hollywood. We both knew Ellen Page was in the film. And we were both looking for celebs - of course we never thought we'd see one. You know, like that comet, or that unicorn.

We got to the high school. He was driving a little slower than the speed limit so we could take it all in. Then, all of a sudden, this little girl runs past us wearing black jeans, a black hoody, and carrying a black backpack. It happened so fast. But, when it finally registered, in that half-second it took the image to travel from my eyes to my brain, I yelled out, "HOLY ****!, THAT'S ELLEN PAGE!"

The windows were down; I'm surprised she didn't hear me. My friend tapped his brakes, our heads swung around, and just as fast as I saw her, she disappeared. Truly, we're not sure what happened. Like that unicorn, she ran back into that enchanted forest that is Hamtramck.

I peered up the street as my friend kept driving straight. Cops were around, neighbors were out, there were Hollywood trailers and equipment I never knew existed when it came to making movies all over the place.

We made it back to Caniff without incident. However, it wasn't over.

As we approached Gallagher, where it empties out into Caniff, my friend said, "Hey, those girls look famous."

He was nodding toward a bright, shiny, red car. They did look famous, actually. As we got closer to the red car I couldn't believe what I saw.

"HOLY ****! IT'S ELLEN PAGE!" I yelled out, again.

We passed them, gawking like it was a car wreck. I'm surprised he didn't hit anything and cause one of his own. I watched them turn left, toward Conant.

"Lets follow them," my friend said.

I shook my head, motioning an answer of "No." But, damn, did that sound like a good idea. He turned around and shot up Caniff. We both verbalized fantasies of seeing their car parked on the street outside of Small's and how "sweet" it would be if Ellen Page was getting a beer and how "sweet" it would be if we just happened to mosey on in at the same time.

I thought about marriage and what our kids would look like. I would even take her last name if she asked. I was drunk on Hollywood. Is this what it is like in California? Does everyone walk around in this drunken daze of Hollywood fantasy? With these tax breaks for filmmakers here in Michigan, I better get used to falling in love and not thinking straight.

We lost her. We got to Conant and that red car carrying my future wife was gone. Just as fast as she showed up (twice) she disappeared (twice). My friend drove north up Conant, and then back over to the filming site before he finally dropped me off at my car in front of the Citizen.

She was gone. Frolicking somewhere with the other unicorns that I might fall in love with.

Aug 19, 2008

You gotta bolt it down

by Citizen editors — last modified Aug 19, 2008 06:46 PM


I should have been more careful. I should have known that a lock on a pole wasn't enough. I should have known that unless it is bolted to the concrete I run the risk of losing it in this town. But still, I was shocked when I walked out of Whisky in the Jar at about 6:45 p.m. and my bike was not where I left it.

My baby blue one-speed that I bought for 50 bucks from my roommate who bought it for a hundred is gone. For nearly a month prior to the theft I had logged somewhere between 15 and 20 miles a day on that thing.

I took to the streets as part of a project I was doing for www.modeldmedia.com where I tested how viable Detroit's transit was. I rode my bike and the bus for 30 days. And, well, almost fittingly, on the last day of this experiment, outside of Whisky in Jar, my bike was stolen.

After work on that fateful day I was meeting a friend for dinner at the Polish Village Cafe and had some time to kill. I rode around a bit then decided to unwind with a few drinks. Two to be exact. Two drinks in 45 minutes. I sipped them, read a bit, watched that crazy Japanese game show on the TV, then left.

I walked out and felt very confused, as if I misplaced something. It was that feeling you get in a large parking lot when you can't find your car times about a thousand.

"Where the hell is it?" I said aloud. A heat washed over my body. I convinced myself that
I locked it up somewhere else.

"It's over here, I put it over here, I know it," I kept thinking. But no, it was gone.

I have a feeling it was someone in the neighborhood, someone who saw me lock it up and then walk into the bar. And I have a feeling that they lifted it up over the post and did not cut the lock. Of course, this is neither here nor there. It's gone.

I keep my eye out for it everywhere. I think I see it everywhere. Of course it's not there and I'll probably never see it again.

Two days later I caught someone trying to steal Citizen Editor Chip Sercombe's bike right outside of the office on Caniff. It was three in the afternoon. He had small wire cutters and was trying to sever the bike lock. Maybe if he had another hour he may have gotten through. I walked up to him and asked him what he was doing.

He gave me a few stories. One about a guy who lost his bike lock key and was gonna pay him to get it back, one about a crackhead who wanted the bike, and one where he told me he was gonna sell it to a crackhead that was "just right over there."

I took the pliers and he walked away.

Anyway, I guess it goes to show you, no matter how much you love or care about a place, it will still bite you on the ass. It'll still sneak up on you and steal your bike while you're having a few drinks.

If you see a baby blue one speed that says All Pro on the frame it's mine. Call me up at The Citizen so I can start riding again. (313) 365-9500.

Be safe and keep your bikes locked up better than mine.

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