This Land is Your land

My love for birdwatching found me in the impoverished neighborhood of Warrendale, West Detroit. I Ubered to Rouge Park, a local birding spot. My reddit research foretold of a colony of Great Blue Herons, and I, came for the gold rush. Surrounded by trailer parks and abandoned homes, I asked my driver if I would be safe here. He hesitated, and responding distractedly, “You will be fine. Just mind your own business.” The conversation fell to weather, and in his distracted tone continued, “It may rain a little.” What is your problem man? “I’m from the Pacific Northwest; I was born in the rain!” I jested. The conversation fell off entirely.

We pulled up to the park, which resembled the blank canvas of poverty. Across the street was the Detroit Police Gun Range, which admittedly brought me a little comfort. “Is this where you would like to be dropped off?” he asked. “Do you recommend anywhere else?” I lobbed back. He seemed very uncomfortable, but I could not pin it. Maybe it is just a cultural barrier. Maybe I’m just being awkward like usual. Hi, I’m stiff white guy from a well to do family. Nice to meet you, Mike. Did you go to college too? Do you like birdwatching? How about tennis? No? You don’t ski? You MUST try it sometime; it is such a riot! Oh, your dad left? Your mother died in childbirth? What a bummer man, keep your head up!

The rain started up all once, that summer east coast rain. That rain where you race for the nearest oak, and by the time you find cover, it ceases. Only it didn’t go away, and this fat rain came with a heavy, threatening wind. Oh no I felt, as a damp worry crossed my mind. Maybe it is my internal barometer. Possibly the hell empty streets, where not even a car stirs. Why was my Uber driver so distracted? I pulled up the weather app and I saw a warning for Dearborn Heights, Michigan at 2:45 pm. I am in Dearborn Heights. It is 2:45 pm. It is a tornado warning.

Emergency sirens wailed warnings to all. Take shelter! Where do I find shelter in the Hood? I throw my luggage over my shoulder (these funny situations are why I travel so light) and run for the police station. They locked me out, bastards, so I settle for the door cove. The dice had been rolled, and I found myself excited for the potential snake eyes. I’ve always wanted to see a tornado, and I finally stood a chance. I laughed. It was not five minutes ago that I feared the people here (the community?), and now we were all one. Us against the storm. Amidst the chaos I found myself in the eye. I looked around at the neighborhood, which was quite clean. A tight knit, home spun, community vibe. Families don’t come and go here like white gentrifying tides that ebb and flow around most, or all, major cities. Here in the storm, at this moment, it was us against the world. Or shall I clarify, it is the world against us. For this brief moment, I was a part of this special community.