Mary Clare Brown:  

I grew up in inner-city Detroit during the turbulent Sixties. If you are reading this, chances are, you did too. Does it ever feel to you like it was only a dream? Something from your imagination? Things changed so abruptly and the trend was irredeemably downward. Destruction. Decay. Poverty. Less and less and less. (Less was NOT more!) I learned to ride a bicycle on a humongous, green, 28-inch model, when I was 6 and new to the neighborhood in late '59. That skill came in handy later in the Sixties. I checked out the 1967 riots at noon, everyday, on my trusty steed, an old and well-used powder blue brush-painted boy's bicycle with saddle bag rear baskets. It definitely was NOT pretty, but very functional. (It was not as embarrassing as the shopping cart I dragged to the A&P on Plymouth Rd. at Grand River every week.) I went near and far on that bike. Maybe a very selective 7 mile radius from 12050 Kentucky 48204. I generally headed West, following the "White Flight" pathways. Dearborn, Redford... I was lonely when all my friends moved away. Except for one golden summer (?1965?1966?), there were no neighborhood friendships. I am glad I did not know that before the fact. I think I would have run away. Instead I kept my head down and kept trying to make the best of things, looking for opportunities in Detroit or a way to fly away to a kinder, gentler place. I just knew that place existed somewhere, because books told me over and over that it was so. Books were...Expand for more