Detroit

I only had a chance to spend a little time in Detroit when I went back to Michigan to link up with family.  Stopping at the grounds of old Tiger Stadium, I was saddened to see that only a flag pole and the decaying field remain.  A place that once brought me great joy despite the fact the Tigers were a terrible franchise through the 1990s is now a vacant lot surrounded by a fence.  At least, I have the memories, of Cecil’s moon shot homer that landed on the roof and Mickey Tettleton’s batting stance, meeting Ernie Harwell and the long, old-school pee troughs.  In the big picture, Tiger Stadium was just another crumbling building with a rich legacy, only one among many in a city prosperity has forgotten.  This past weekend, I actually felt like I was back in Detroit for a few hours while attending some music in an outdoor park ensconced in the warmth only brick can bring.  That was about as funky as I’ve seen Seattle.  Detroit, I miss your architecture and funky spirit, but you’ll always have a place in my heart no matter where I may be.

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