Texan kinfolk
Last month my cousin Dorothy and her grandson Tim came to town from Houston for a family event. Dorothy, 73, grew up in Detroit but moved out in 1969 and hadn't been back until 2008. Last year I met her for the first time and gave her a tour of the city she hadn't seen in nearly 40 years. Every single thing she asked about last year was long gone, including her old house on Ash Street. This year, she was determined to find another house in which she had lived.
That house was also gone.
But it was not all loss and grief. We went to Western High School, which was the first place we visited that had not been destroyed in some way. In fact, Western is in good condition, with shiny floors non-crumbling ceilings. The metal detectors were new. But it's still there and the staff was welcoming. We went up to New Center and filled out the forms to get her 1950s school records.
Tim had never been to Detroit and was actually interested in my long-winded history tour. While I showed him around downtown, Matt took this scandalous photo of my cousin:
I'm a little disappointed that her photo of Matt isn't as daring:
Despite the eerie reality of never being able to come home again, it was a pretty fun day for the four of us.