The Race

A few days ago my friend Doug took Bjorn, Ting and I on a short tour of the Detroit suburbs. I thought I knew what to expect.

We even joked about it, "Heather, you grew up here, you're going to be so bored."

Not so much.

I thought that I knew the suburbs, but oh was I wrong.

I thought I knew what to expect: Livonia, Troy, Macomb Country - I've been there.

Flat, monotone expanses of country-mile blocks papered over by development.

Development that shuttled through the country dropping parking lots, retail warehouses, and drive throughs every 200 yards, a seamless asphalt landscape broken only  occasionally by a tree lined carved open block full of twisty turning cul de sacs, lined with 2 acre lots.

These places may be a little unpleasant to drive through, but they're pretty pedestrian.

Bland, predictable, average -- nothing to get worked up about.

But let me tell you.

That is not all they make in the Detroit's suburbs.

Have ya'll been to Bloomfield Hills?

Does everyone else know about this?

Am I the only one that didn't see this coming?

Do y'all know what's going on down here?

Pardon me, but:

Whole. Lee. Shit.

They've got beautiful lakes and windy country-feeling roads. Huge, gorgeous, architecture that's really worth looking at. Hills.

Real hills.

Westchester smestchester.

Michigan has got it going on.

It seems we've got a few dogs in the 1% race.

I was comfortably marinating in my disdain for this kind of blatant inequality, and then we pulled up to Cranbrook.

Cranbrook, with their glorious art museum.

Cranbrook, with their manicured campus.

Cranbrook, with their famous alumni.

We got to Cranbrook, and my heart went all squishy.

This kind of wealth, the kind that takes its form in an elite education, I am totally find with.

This corner of the status quo, I would like to preserve.

It has, after all, served me quite well.

I'm going to take America apart and put it back together again, but this part, I want to keep intact.

I want to save it from the fire, put it inside a bottle while the rest of the world burns.

I want to have it on my mantle, safe from destruction and safe from ridicule.

I want to be able to walk into my study on any given sunny afternoon and gaze at it with nostalgia.