Memoirous

Abandoned houses. Abandoned houses/buildings awaken something in all of us. Could it be mortality? Some people have made a hobby of exploring abandoned warehouses and industrial sites. There is something melancholic about these old buildings/houses. A faded grandeur, a real sense of loss. “The Ruins of Detroit” (2005- ) (image from thestapleton.com). Photographer Kyle Fleischhaker Remember as a kid coming upon some ruin and wondering what used to be. In the woods near my house were several dilapidated farmhouses—abandoned since a proposed bypass 675 was soon to be constructed. The houses were all scheduled for demolition. Unless, of course, they just collapsed all by their self. I can still recall the strips of ancient peeling wallpaper, roses faded into the weathered and aged paper, until the image is barely visible. A soiled mattress in the corner, stinking of urine and mouse infestation. The wind-swept corners piled with litter=remains=the midden* of l...

 Someone say free and you see me jump. Someone shout free and see how high I go. Yeah, free is how I roll. And last night we had free tickets to a new film, Searching For Sugar Man. My husband is on an e-mail list, possibly because he writes the most in-depth, thought-provoking reviews of anyone I’ve ever read. He would slit his own wrists if he borrowed a tag line or copped a phrase from a press release. No, no, no. He has to watch something a couple of times and then see two or three more films almost like it then write a review that maybe a couple people in the world recognize as extreme fantastic and then they link to it. Like orchids. Last night’s movie was orchids sprouting in the weeds of Detroit—that good. Mike Hertenstein will probably write his own review, but for now I’ll give you mine. Imagine someone in the arts who works really hard and is objectively talented. A rare orchid. Now imagine that person actually gets recognition and lands A. r...

Let’s see if I can bring this together. As of late I’ve been pondering the future—and with the future comes the past, all that has gone on before. It’s hard not to worry. There is so much paralyzing news: mass shootings, Voter Suppression, Citizens United, climate change. None of these, absolutely none of them are anything I can do anything about. Sometimes I wonder what happened to hope. I’m not talking campaign slogans. Yes, Obama ran on hope, and IT WORKED. Four years ago. Notice how no one is chanting hope today? Now I know the world continues to turn—whether we have hope or not. But hope makes the heart lighter, lifts the spirit. Raises the possibility that people do matter, that we can change the way things are. I was nurtured in hope. Born into the 60s—never mind when—I was of a generation at the vanguard of change. How could we not—that whole, messy mass of Baby Boomers—leave its mark on mankind. Advertisers crafted their messages just for us; we were the...