If This Was a Real City...

Posted by Karen Dybis Monday, December 7, 2009 at 12:15 pm

24 Comments • Trackback (0) • Detroit Essay , Detroit

Here's the question I've been pondering for the past couple of weeks: What does it mean to live in a dying city?

There are the positives. Parking is easy; typically, you can grab a spot in front of or within a block of any venue, retail shop or restaurant. Housing is plentiful. In fact, there are so many great homes on the market within a few miles of me that I spend hours surfing real-estate Web sites when I should be sleeping. People are so desperate here you can get nearly anything done (haircuts, handyman help, legal advice) for a massive discount.

Then there are the negatives. The ugly jokes. The bugged-out eyes when you tell someone where you live. The feeling of hopelessness that overwhelms you. The sadness that your children probably won't stay here. The realization that changing Detroit is paramount to tearing a mountain down one handful of dirt at a time.

These are my thoughts after staying in Chicago for a week and then returning to Detroit. I thought a lot about the blog – it is almost three months old now, and what have we learned? Has anything changed? How can one little spot on the Web hope to amount to anything?

These grim little storm clouds gather whenever I have a free moment cruising down the highway. It is what passes between you and your neighbors when you pass in the supermarket or nod across the aisle at church. What does it mean to live in a dying city?

Here I steal a line from the Shawshank Redemption. It's time to get busy living or get busy dying. If you choose death, then you move somewhere else. You let Detroit go, brick by brick. You ignore the vacant lot full of weeds. You turn a blind eye to the damaged walls and half-assed projects. You try to get out – or maintain a life somewhere else so you don't have to come back.

But if you choose to live, you have to make the best of it. Driving my son to the Detroit Science Center this past weekend, I emphasized to him that this is his city. It may not look like Chicago, but it is your home. Sure, he may still leave when he turns 18 for college somewhere else. Or he might steal away when he's 22 or 23 like my brother did, seeing the decaying automotive companies and realizing Silicon Valley was the place for him. But my 4-year-old boy might decide to stick around if I plant the right seeds in his fertile mind. This is your city, I chant, like some desperate mantra for his future.

Part of me always wonders…Why couldn't Detroit be Chicago? What does it take to gain some traction in this town? I see the young people at the Detroit Urban Craft Fair; it made my head spin to see so many 20somethings in one spot. I see the amazing architecture, the glorious houses and duplexes that line the city's blocks. I see businesses trying to grow. Why haven't we found the key to turning Detroit into the powerhouse it has every right to be?

The other day, I visited a new friend at her store. People breezed in and out, enjoying the neighborhood, its nearby eateries and the new shops opening on the block. We pondered how to bring more people to the Midtown area, where there are many great places to shop if you're willing to drive a block or two. “If we lived in a real city,” we mused, “then maybe people would make the effort.”

I look forward to a day when I stop adding “if this were a real city” to casual conversation.