A New Michiganer

Detroit: The Angry City

I know - here I go, ragging once again on the place I now call home, however, this time it isn't all me!  According to a recent ranking in Men's Health magazine, Detroit is the angriest city in the entire U.S.A.

Detroit: The Angriest of All

The ranking, which considers the number of aggravated assaults per capita, the number of people with high blood pressure, the amount of time spent in traffic during rush hour, and the number of anger management specialists per capita - says Detroit wins the coveted title!

Let's look at this analytically...

Detroit - and it's suburbs - were developed by moguls from the automobile industry.  The powers that created southern Michigan decided there is to be no public transportation, except for bus systems - that are few and far between.  That accounts for the amount of time spent in traffic.  Thanks to the influence of Big Auto, there IS no alternative.  That was a planned move by the people who made cars.  They made highways - lots of them - and the speed limits are high, but there is no rail system to speak of.  And the distances are vast.  It's freezing for at least one quarter of the year (today it's minus 15 in my neck of the woods) - and there is ice on the road and throughout the suburbs.  Even the city isn't situated for walkers.  You must drive to stores, to malls, to parks.  Everything is an auto excursion.  Naturally, people gain weight.

Then the orient begins making cars, unions prevailed here in Detroit, and the auto industry went big fat belly up. People lost their jobs.  Combine the weight gain (which I call The Michigan 40) with the anxiety about losing jobs - and you get high blood pressure.  No jobs also means the crime rate goes up.  Add in the fact that it's OK to own and travel with guns in Michigan, add in the stress of the jobless factor and is it no surprise that we lead in aggravated assaults.

I believe there is a solution.  Build a rail system that goes from Detroit to its suburbs.  Bring jobs back to Detroit.  Give workers new hope.  And rebuild the surrounding towns and cities so people can easily access places without using the damn cars!  I guess I'm just one of those angry Michiginars!

Southern Michigan is a beautiful place and I'll bet Detroit could be a thriving Metropolis with lots of happy people.  All you need is a SUBWAY!

 

Get Me Outta Here!

I'm back in Ann Arbor.  I so don't want this blog to turn into a gripefest but this transition is so hard for me.  The only thing I love about Michigan so far is my husband.  I would follow him to the ends of the earth.  And it seems, I have.  And I try so hard not to remind him daily that the only reason I am here in this cold, cold place is because of the warmth of his soul.

I spoke to another former New Yorker who moved here for her significant other and she told me the first couple of years she was all piss and vinegar - like me.  But somehow, she said, the fight got knocked out of her.  And now she is happy here.  It took some resignation, she admitted.  But now she is at peace.  Will that happen to me?  And at what cost?

How do ex-New Yorkers live with the contrast of being here?  New York brims with opportunity on every corner.  Businesses spring up like aquifers all over town.  The best I saw on my trip New Year's weekend was the Charmin' Bathroom storefront on 42nd Street.  Plastered with sayings inviting people with bursting organs to drop in, signs boasted, "The Number One Place to Do Number Two."  Michigan, in contrast,  is depressed and dead.  If you have no University affiliation - or tie-in to healthcare - or to the auto industry - there is nothing here.  It's miles and miles of wasteland - no public transportation and each municipality is spaced just far enough for people to get lost on the highways en route to wherever.

Yesterday I took a long walk - to pick up my car, of course.  I saw exactly four other people walking while I was on my 3-mile jaunt.  FOUR!  Do you have any idea how many people shuffle past you in New York as you walk the city from top to bottom?  Even the piles of snow and slush didn't stop me from tearing up and down those streets, stopping in stores and restaurants and enjoying all that New York has to offer.

It's all about the attitude I tell myself, trying to cheer myself up.  But how can I live in a place that seems so bleak?  If anyone has anything nice to share about Michigan - now would be a very good time to do it!

 

Back to Brooklyn

Going back to Brooklyn, for me, represents so many things. Brooklyn, the city I landed in as a teenager during the Saturday Night Fever era when it was everyone's goal to "get the hell out of Brooklyn!" is not just any city.  It is Israel, Chinatown, Little Odessa, Saudi Arabia, Punjab and Ethiopia, depending on what block you happen to be visiting.

It's a place where "Hey!" is the greeting of choice and nobody bothers with niceties - people simply cut to the chase.  It's the land of filthy streets and pigeons circling buildings - and every kind of ethnic delicacy imaginable for sale at reasonable prices.  The pizza crust is crispy, the shwarma is authentic, the restaurants include the gratuity on the bill so their waiters don't get stiffed, and there is no item that you can't find for sale within a 10-block radius.  It is a crowded, huddled mass of people bursting with bargains galore, cement playgrounds and lots and lots of noise.

And for this Michiginar, Brooklyn was the perfect holiday getaway. 

I visited a local supermarket to run some errands - and was shocked back into the thrill of the kill in the parking lot when I scored a good space by racing someone who saw the spot at the same time as I. As I pulled into the spot, I resisted the instinct to gloat, remembering that most Brooklyn people use "The Club" in their vehicle.  The Club is a heavy theft deterrant metal bar - that locks the steering wheel, but could just as easily be used as a device to bludgeon people who grab a coveted parking spot and gloat about it.

Inside the store were more surprises.  Unlike Michigan, where the supermarkets take up lots of space with wide aisles and a select number of products on the shelves, this ShopRite store crammed merchandise into its aisles.  The shelves seemed endless and stocked to the rafters.  And hordes of people poured in and out of the store grabbing the bargains advertised in the ShopRite circular.

There were about 16 checkout lines open.  None of the cashiers were chatting--or sharing pie recipes as they do in Michigan.  They were busy scanning and getting their lines of customers out the door as efficiently as possible.

As I approached the checkout line, I decided to do a Michigan experiment.  A big young man with a "Brooklyn" tattoo on his forearm was scanning items in a mechanical haze.  I put on my very best Michigan cheerleader peppy smile.

"Hi," I chirped.  "How's your day going?"

His brow puckered as he looked up from his scanner.  I kept the smile pasted on my face even though he was looking at me like he was ready to call the cops on this crazy woman.

"Is it going good?" I persisted.

"No," he grunted, turning his attention back to the items.

"Awww," I clucked sympathetically.  "So, what's wrong?"

The poor dude didn't know what to make of this customer who was playing cashier's therapist in his busy store.

"I got two more hours of this," he muttered.

"I'll bet it's tough at this time of the year."

He just shook his head, grunted and completed the sale and went on break.

And I went home singing the "I love New York" theme song.

Am I an Old Fogey?

We sat in the nightclub on Saturday night, surrounded by people our age and older.  In a truly beautifully executed jazz rendition of an otherwise funny song, the singer onstage spewed a stream of invectives.  I cringed each time, while most of the audience laughed. I counted at least 15 "F" curses in the song.

"Quiet crowd," the performer complained.  "Must be a conservative bunch. I hope my use of the F word didn't insult you.  We all F after all, so what the F is wrong with it?"

The next set contained a song that glorified speed, another that described a woman who went to rehab 24 times, yet another about a gay Ken doll and it culminated with a song about sex, whipped cream and belts.  The slightly inebriated Ann Arbor audience seemed perfectly OK with the subject matter. In fact, they called the band back for an encore.

"I feel like I need to wash out my brain with soap," was my reaction when my husband asked how I liked the band.  "What a sad waste of talent."

What's wrong with me?  Why didn't I enjoy the cussing, sex jokes, and references to drugs and alcohol?  Have I become an old fogey?  I guess there were times (when I was younger than twenty?) when any song that mentioned these things might have made it to the Judy Top Ten list.  But I've grown up.  And I no longer like it.  And the thought of exposing myself - or my children - or stepchildren to this kind of so called "art" - seriously bothers me.  I totally get that art should be thought provoking and edgy - exploring the hypocritical social structure and designed to try to get reactions - but this kind of art just doesn't work for me.  Instead of feeling like I was expanding my mind in that nightclub - I felt like I was trying to recapture a time when I didn't know who I was and had to laugh at things that weren't funny, in order to fit in with a crowd I didn't particularly respect or admire.  A kind of baby-boomer peer pressure.  With every "F" curse and joke about addiction, I was numbing my sensitivity. Did I really want to be part of this crowd of mature adults trying to recapture the angst of their youth?  No, I did not.  And does that make me an "old fogey?"  Maybe it does.

At this stage of my life, I'd so much rather bring purity and morality to the fore - strive to go higher - not fall into the vacuum of licentiousness that  pervades society. For me, joining the amoral herd simply sucks the joy out of claiming the dignity of my age. 

Gotcha! (almost)

Fish lady:  Are you having a nice day?

Judy's brain:  What's it to you?

Judy (trying hard not to sound sarcastic):  I am having a super-duper day!  A wonderful and delightful day!  The best day EVER!  And you? (Judy's brain: Like I care?)

Fish lady:  I'm having a lovely day - thank you so much for asking.  Here's your salmon and tilapia.  Anything else I can get you?

Judy:  No thank you.

Fish lady:  Would you like some scallops or shrimp?

(Breath, Judy, Breath...Judy's Brain: Idiot - didn't you hear me say NO?  Don't you think if I wanted scallops or shrimp, I would have asked for them????)

Judy:  No thank you.  Have a nice day.

Next stop - the cashier.  Heaven help me.

Store Cashier:  How's your day going?

(mental eye roll)  Judy's Brain: Here we go again!

Judy:  Great!  And yours?

Cashier:  Oh, wonderful - thanks for asking.

Judy's Brain:  Ha, Lady!  Watch THIS move!   YOU are about to ask me if I found everything I needed, but wait!

Judy: AND guess what!  I found everything I was looking for, yup!  EVERY last item!  Here it is - how about that!

Judy's Brain: Ha!  That will pre-empt your litany of senseless questions.  Now you can just ring me up in silence.

Store Cashier:  And are you all ready for the Thanksgiving holiday?  Do you have everything you need for the big day?  What are you cooking?

Judy's Brain:  AAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!

The Most Branded City in the World

Every city has its branding - its logo - it's colors, and as a consultant who helps people brand their businesses - and sometimes themselves - I totally appreciate branding.  But living in Ann Arbor, Michigan, I must say...the city IS the university - and the university has left its mark all over the city.

I mean, who knows the "color" of New York - or the font - or even the logo and current ad campaign?  It changes from season to season.  Here in the areas surrounding Ann Arbor, even the ROAD SIGNS sport the U of M font - and the blue and maize colors can be found everywhere - on houses, store signs, storefronts, it feels like everywhere you go in and around Ann Arbor, you are surrounded by a blue and maize haze.  It's been that way forever and forever it will be - blue and maize.

Businesses with absolutely no connection to the University or football team have named themselves "Wolverine" - hardware stores, candy stores, toy stores.

"It's all about team spirit," one U of M marketing student explained to me.  Then she admitted that there are days when everyone she runs into in all her classes is wearing the University colors - or worse - she says there are days when she is the only one dressed in say, purple!  Horrors!  Is it team spirit or herd mentality that permeates here in A2?

I mean when even the construction sites are getting in on the act, you feel like you're stepping into some bizarre movie set.

Go Blue!

A Stroll to U of M

Today I took a stroll to the U of M campus, just a stone's throw from my apartment.  It's fun to walk around there, even if I feel like I've got to be the oldest person within a 20-mile radius...

There's something about a town that is completely centered around a university - it's not at all like CUNY or other New York University systems that are peppered between office buildings, retailers, old, jaded executives, Gramercy Park mommies, and the like.  Here, it's ALL about the University.  This city lives for its students.  The day they go home, it's like a ghost town.  But with fall in bloom and football games still in the offing, today there were denim-clad 20-year olds, as far as the eye could see, mostly with hands up to their ears, oblivious to oncoming traffic, chatting on their cellphones.

Two guys were jogging around the campus holding a pole with a flag blowing in the breeze (didn't your Mommy ever tell you not to run around with a stick...you can poke out your eye!  Yeah, I was tempted to say something, but I didn't!).

There were plenty of runners, ipods strapped to upper arms.  Do I miss the hustle and bustle of people -- even some my own age -- that I saw earlier this week in New York?  You bet.  Do I miss the excitement, the energy, the split second precision, the long strides, the "get me there NOW!" feeling of New York City?  And of course there was the proverbial Michigan, "How's your day going?" from the shopkeepers I encountered on my journey.  Yes, I cannot tell a lie.  I'm homesick.

There's quite a difference  between jolting, energetic, New York's rows of stands, handbag hawkers, food carts, vendor vans, and the sunny sidewalk stands here, that sell every sort of derivative "U of M" T-shirt from the plain to the "don't wear this home to Mom" variety.  Here the smell of pizza wafts along the quad, mingling with the fragrance of composting fall leaves to create an interesting pungency, quite unique to Ann Arbor.

It was a beautiful day for a walk in Ann Arbor.  Maybe I'll take another one before the sun sets on the campus of the University of Michigan.  But I'll still miss New York.