Page 7 - Demo

Home Sweet Home. Watercolor on paper. 1960In actuality, my hometown was a very nice suburban bedroom community. In fact, it was purposely designed to be pleasantly upscale and totally segregated by race. But even if you were Caucasian, your ancestral origins, your religion, your occupation, your reputation, and your income, might prevent you from living there. At that time Grosse Pointe had a point system of much renown. For many years, local real-estate agents would assign points to any %u201cpositive%u201d traits you possessed, and if you had enough points, you were considered acceptable to purchase a home there. The point system effectively kept out blacks, Jews, and many southern and eastern Europeans, who rarely had enough points, and had to find housing elsewhere. This made the area culturally, quite a dull place, but with virtually no crime%u2014at least no street crime. Most of Grosse Pointe was physically attractive, with a highly rated school system. At one end of the spectrum, there were the 40-acre estates of the Fords and other Detroit auto notables. But there were also smaller mansions, very large houses, bigger-than-average houses, more ordinary-sized homes, and a handful of apartments. While it%u2019s no longer true, for many generations%u2014including my grandparents, parents, and during my childhood%u2014it was considered one of the cr%u00e8me-de-la-cr%u00e8me places to reside in the entire country. Our own house%u2014a three-bedroom French Provincial%u2014was not exceptional, inside or out. But its construction was interesting, for it had steel beams instead wooden floor joists. It had been built by Childe Harold Wills, an early colleague of Henry Ford, who had an important role in designing the Model T. Later, Wills started his own car company. I was told that our house had been a wedding gift to his daughter in the 1930s. Our home also had what I thought was a special feature whose potential was never fully realized. Across the entire back of the house, above our first-floor den and three-season room, was a flat roof with a fence around its 3-sided outer perimeter This was a very large space, accessible by a French door from an upstairs%u2019 bedroom. Often, I pictured this totally ignored and unappreciated location transformed into a beautiful upper-level patio, and I mentioned this to my mother several times. But to her, it was just a roof, and that%u2019s what it would always be, just a roof.About the time I started high school, my father had risen to vice president and one-third owner of Teal Electric, and grew increasingly wealthy. With his new status, my mother sought a more impressive home. Several times she took me, and only me, on house-hunting trips, feeling that my artistic personality would aid her in assessing the homes. However, before she found the right new place, the 1967 Detroit Riot broke out. After that tumultuous event, which took place only blocks away from Teal%u2019s downtown location, they decided to stay put until my sister and I graduated from high school. That%u2019s when Teal Electric was moved to Troy and my parents built a new home out there just for the two of them. The Detroit Pistons%u2019 incoming new head coach%u2014Butch van Breda Kolff%u2014bought our Grosse Pointe home.While many people were impressed by Grosse Pointe (even today, there are subdivisions, business centers, shopping centers, and apartment complexes that include Pointe in their name to convey prestige), I was not particularly intrigued with the place. What I loved was that it lay on the shore of Lake St. Claire. This 26-mile wide, extremely shallow lake is an integral part of the Great Lakes%u2019 system, although few people are aware of it. For me, looking at the wide expanse of water was like viewing a place of peace, far away from civilization. Sometimes I felt like I was actually dissolving into it. Only the big lake freighters, that routinely plied the narrow, buoy-marked channel, far out in the middle, along with a few sailboats, yachts, and speed boats freely going wherever there liked, seemed to share the lake with me%u2014and I loved seeing the flocks of seagulls. Graceful, raucous, and brazen, I envied their feisty independence.As a teen, I often found solace by taking long walks with our miniature poodle, Cinders, along a route that included a stretch of Lake Shore Drive. We lived just a block from this beautifully landscaped boulevard so, in good weather, it was a beckoning retreat. Even when I couldn%u2019t be there, if I needed its comfort, I could always picture the lake in my mind. Sadly, after I entered college, this treasured section of lakefront was filled in. On one part, directly across from our street, someone erected a large, unattractive, pink-brick home.When I lived in Grosse Pointe, the vast vista of water was essential to my main goal, which was to hide%u2014from the biting criticism and verbal attacks that was a constant in my family. If I had to be in their presence, I hid my sense of Self deep, deep within. But, if I could, I preferred to hide physically %u2014under my bed, behind the garage, even resorting to crawling over some cast iron pipes to hide in a narrow basement utility closet. But the best option was always getting out of the house and walking Cinders. Actually, I liked being with all types animals. I really enjoyed learning about them, too. Nature, other cultures, playing piano or organ, humor, and art%u2014