The new music video, "PROMISED LAND," by the very talented Carolyn Striho and Scott Dailey 

The Sins of the Winless

Ok, so as it turned out, I was not the needed 'good luck' charm to help the Detroit Tigers end their - now six game - winless streak, when they played against the Chicago White Sox last night. Or maybe it was a no-luck combination of me, my daughter and two of her friends who went together. Or maybe it was the fact the White Sox played an exceptional game. Or maybe it was the fact the Tiger's did not play such an exceptional game. Or maybe the Tiger's are still acclimating and will soon get into a winning groove that will bring them up to first-place which is where they belong. Or maybe the seventh time will be the charm. Or maybe or maybe or maybe.

"Let's Go Tigers!"

I wonder about the 'fans' who are fortunate enough, wealthy enough, connected enough to sit in some of the best seats in the park . . . like the seat I was lucky enough to sit in last night . . . I wonder about those very quiet, dignified "fans." Some were busy doing late-night business deals and introductions while their teenage daughters were getting up and down and up and down to walk around and shop for candy, peanuts, coke and pizza all while text messaging every one of their friends. Some looked bored. Some very proper. Some looked like they were there because they were important enough to sit in those great seats. Some looked like had they had a remote control they would have surfed the channels. Yes, some were Sox fans. Some were jeering, booing fools, while some others, whose lives may have been on the line depending on the outcome, were just plan crabby. And then there was me and my gang. We were there to cheer on and support our team - The TIGERS - and we were cheering them on. YEAH!
oh, was that too loud? Come on people! Support our team! It's not like we're asking you to paint letters on your bare chests! The game was televised on ESPN and my sister and some friends informed me that we on on TV - good thing I did not eat any ice-cream - a little Seinfeld humor; George Costanza style.

I Know What I Did Last Sunday

What do you get when you combine a 14,000 square-foot ballroom of an award winning 800-million dollar luxury casino resort - the first of its caliber outside of Las Vegas; a starting lineup of an NBA championship winning team; a surprise guest performance by a world-famous artist / hip hop legend; and a man with a name familiar to most in the city of Detroit?

You get Dennis Archer Jr. hosting Pistons’ Richard “Rip” Hamilton’s 30^th birthday party at the MGM Grand Ballroom with Busta Rhymes leading the invited guests (like Rasheed Wallace, Tayshaun Prince, Chauncey Billups) in a toast and a traditional rendition of “Happy Birthday to You.” You get a night worth remembering. I did. The night of March 2, 2008. And, the heart of Detroit gets defibrillated back to her natural, soulful rhythm (after being brought close to death over the recent damaging rhythms within her political ventricle and law-enforcing lobe)

The night began with my first visit to the MGM Grand Detroit Resort Hotel and Casino, which opened in October 2007 and was named as one of the "Top 10 new U.S. hotels of 2007" by Gayot and mentioned as one of "53 places to visit in 2008" by The New York Times. I was, to say the least, very impressed by the elegant, elaborately designed award winning structure - the MGM Grand Detroit was also recently awarded the prestigious distinction of "Development of the Year 2007" on January 29, 2008 by the 2008 Americas Lodging Investment Summit.

On the way to the Grand Ballroom, I passed by two Starbucks; numerous retail establishments; a relaxing, elegant piano-style bar; tranquil waterfalls; the V lounge – which was recently named in Nightclub & Bar magazine's list of Top 100 Nightclubs of 2008; Wolfgang Puck’s Grille; and (Michael) Mina's SALTWATER Restaurant which was recently awarded "Restaurant of the Year" by the Detroit Free Press.

That was on the way to the party.

When I arrived at the doors of the Grand Ballroom, also referred to as the Grand Salon, I ordered a Cosmopolitan from the nearest bar to ‘break the ice.’ But, as I soon found out, the only ice that didn’t immediately melt in the ‘hot’ ambiance of the Miami-themed room - tented with white linens and filled with palm trees – were the ice sculptures of the number 30 next to a likeness of Rip’s face which decorated the strolling buffet tables.

Between deejay Mick Boogies' retro-disco, R & B and hip hop beat mixes; the announcement of the guest of honor's arrival, “Rip Hamilton is in the building!” called for another drink! But I had to wait before stepping into an oncoming entourage that blocked me from getting to the bar – Rasheed Wallace had also just arrived.

The night was still very young at 11:00pm as we had just begun to celebrate one year older in the life of Rip.

Emcee Kenny Burns and rapper Doug E. Fresh called for Rip to join them up on stage. So, I moved with the other guests, in a solitary mass, behind him. Everyone wanted to personally wish Rip a ‘happy birthday’ and hopefully get a photo opportunity – I was no different – and Rip graciously complied. It was then I realized that Rip was a baby when I worked for the Piston's organization under the leadership of Dick Vitale . . . Rip was a baby when I was a Classy Chassis! I'm not sure if that memory sent me back to the past or speeding into the future of this moment.

There is something about Detroiters and the way we love our athletes and support our sports teams; the way we remain real and true to our musical roots and the way we take pride in our city’s new developments, renovations, history and progress . . . . Well, the night combined all of who we are, what we are, and much of what we hold dear. The night was magical and getting better by the hour.

By now, I was in the front; the extreme front. My thighs were intimate with the edge of the stage. I was there to take photos and video clips, but what I did not know was that I was also right there at the precise moment when, to our surprise, Busta Rhymes was introduced. The mere mention of his name brought screams and shouts, a rhythmic motion of the mass crowd and hundreds of flickering camera flashes. He is, after all, a legend in his own right. And whether or not one loves or despises hip hop music, Busta Rhymes has achieved world-wide recognition and success in a multitude of artistic vehicles from television to film as an actor, writer, director, singer, performer and soundtrack composer. He does have a commanding and magnetic stage presence about him. And there is nothing quite the likes of raising a glass in a birthday salute to Rip Hamilton while joining Busta Rhymes in a “choir-like” rendition of “Happy Birthday to You.”

The evening was made possible by Dennis Archer Jr. - the name speaks for itself - and Ambassador Magazine. I call Dennis, 'Detroit’s Event Mayor and Public Relations Man.'

Rip was the man of the evening. Busta was the man of the hour. And Dennis was and is the man of Detroit.

I know what I did last Sunday. I won’t soon forget what I did last Sunday.

The Nature of Me

I was born in Detroit, Michigan. I was nurtured here. I grew up here. Detroit is my native soil; the perfect balance of minerals, alkalinity, water and sunlight that nurtured my body from infancy into adulthood. This is where my feet first walked the streets. This is where my childhood memories live. This is where, long ago, I buried things in an unmarked grave. This is the sacred place where the Earth mothered me into physical existence. Detroit is my home . . . no matter how far I roam. My roots begin here. And this is where I return when I seek the comfort of familiarity; when I need homemade chicken soup; when my ears long to hear the foghorn of a Lake Michigan lighthouse; when I am missing certain ingredients essential to my growing forward. Detroit in my nurturing force. Detroit is my sure thing.

Greece . . . is my spiritual motherland; the place my soul finds solace, answers and then, more questions. Greece is where the muses dance around me and where my feet also dance. It is here where I first heard my life calling me - in a tongue foreign to my ears yet understood by my heart. This is where my true nature was born; where I originate; where my creativity laughs from the belly. This is the place from where I can see eternity atop a limestone hill; where my ancient umbilica remains connected to the amniotic fluids of the Aegean Sea; and where I have yet to unbury all the mysteries of me. Greece is where I come when my canvas has become muddied from color on color and needs to be alabastered white again; when the world is so loud that I cannot hear my own voice. This is where I come when a solo clarino - clarinet, a glass of Retsina and a cotton dress is all that is needed to have my heart leaping with joy.
When I ventured away from Detroit to find what fates awaited me, it was then that I thought I had found Greece . . . but I found I had never really left Greece. And she never left me.
It was in Greece where my growing pains matured into wisdom and where I began to understand the knowledge I had collected from my experiences and education.
The nature and the nurture of life; we need to respect them both and love them equally if we are to have the ultimate experience and honor of birthing ourSelves.

Pythia is preparing to emerge from her womb after a long, quite, beautiful pregnancy.
Spring is just a few longitudes and latitudes away.

Looking Back . . . My Photo Montage

MY NEW YEAR'S PROJECT

Photo montage in and around Detroit, the suburbs and Michigan...featuring the Detroit River and Lakes Michigan, Huron and Saint Clair; urban decay and the regeneration and renaissance of Detroit; the cycles and seasons of life - from winter to winter.
The montage, set to the music of Moby, includes photos of my family, my friends, my city, my state...including: legendary bike-builder: Ron Finch; guitar great: Jim McCarty; WRIF Radio Host: Big Daddy Arthur P; Mike Fasano (drums) with Jani Lane in concert at "Pine Knob;" local artist: Chris Kime; local club DJ: Adam Lenk...
The montage also includes places and events: The "Renaissance Center;" The River Walk - celebrating Detroit's 300th Birthday; The Belle Isle Bridge; The 2007 Detroit Belle Isle Grand Prix; Alice Cooper playing to his home town crowd at the Michigan State Fair; popular vacation spots: Caseville, Frankfort and Traverse City; The Trowbridge House - The oldest house in Detroit (post fire); The oldest church - Saints Peter and Paul; Dr Bob's Innate Cafe and Center for Holistic Healing; Campus Martius at Christmas time; Greenfield Village...
"TO EVERYTHING THERE IS A SEASON. A time to plant...a time to heal...a time to die...a time to weep...a time to laugh...a time to dance...a time to LOVE..."
Rest in Peace with GOD: Diana J. Lenk (my beautiful, loving mom) and Steven Michael Smith (my gentle, kind son-in-law)
PS To Detroiters, some things shall remain carved in stone...Hudson's, The Renaissance Center, Pine Knob, Tiger Stadium...they may change the signs but never our memories.

How the Blues Heals my Blues

Music heals the soul and my soul is in dire need of healing. So, I have been submerging myself in music as if it were a body of water. I have been diving into the sounds, swimming through the chords, floating on the rhythms, surfing the ripples and waves.
I am truly blessed to be surrounded by friends (guitarist Jim McCarty - above; Johnny "Bee" on drums) who also happen to be extraordinary musicians. And I was fortunate, this past weekend, to witness a rare event . . . to immerse my soul into Blues, Jazz and Rock and Roll . . . to hear four of the most talented musicians in the country who for two nights called themselves The James Montgomery Band. They played Sunday night (Oct 14) at Dylan's Raw Bar and Grille (previously Tom's Oyster Bar) on Mack in Grosse Pointe. The owner, John, is also James' brother (below)
James Montgomery - blues legend, harmonica and lead vocals - grew up in the Detroit area (he now lives in Boston) and learned first-hand from James Cotton, John Lee Hooker and Jr. Wells. He has recorded with Gregg Allman, Kid Rock; he has toured with Aerosmith, Springsteen, Steve Miller, Allman Brothers, Bonnie Raitt; and has jammed on stage with B.B King, Patti LaBelle, Charlie Daniels, Mick Jagger, and many other music legends.

David Hull - (above - on tour with Aerosmith) bass guitarist - resides in Boston and has played with the Buddy Miles Express, Joe Perry Project (he wrote many of their songs) and most recently toured with Aerosmith - filling in for bassist Tom Hamilton while he was recovering from throat cancer - during the first part of the 2006 Tour. (He played for a time in Jimi Hendrix's Band of Gypsies and is rumored to have played at Hendrix's funeral.)

Johnny "Bee" Badanjek - Detroit's greatest rock drummer extraordinaire - originally from the band Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels - who were known for their hits; CC Rider, Devil in the Blue Dress, Sock it to me, Jenny Take a Ride . . . played and recorded with Alice Cooper (Welcome to my Nightmare); Edgar Winter (Free Ride); Dr John, Bob Segar, Bruce Springsteen, Ronnie Montrose . . . Co-founded the Rockets and wrote almost all of their material.
(Left: Johnny "Bee," Ryder and McCarty during the Wheels days)

And then we come to my friend and one of the top ten guitarists in the country (the world): The legendary guitarist Jim McCarty. Jim played guitar with Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels;

Cactus (left- also called The American Led Zepplin; of Long Tall Sally fame); the Rockets (Oh Well); Buddy Miles Express; Mystery Train (his current band); he also played and recorded with countless legendary musicians like our own Bob Segar and he played one-on-one with the one and only Jimi Hendrix. Jim has been an inspiration to many rock guitarists who looked up to him and learned from him - like Eddie Van Halen, Ted Nugent. In fact, Ted was quoted in a 2006 VH1 interview as saying: "I'm the only guy in Rock'n'Roll that plays that hollow body jazz guitar and it's because in 1960 I saw Jimmy McCarty creating those big fat full chords like I do on "Stranglehold"; I learned that from Jimmy McCarty. Remember the name Jimmy McCarty. He is as important as Bo Diddley and Chuck Berry and Les Paul ...A god on guitar."
"Oh Well" I recorded this on my camera - it is dark and not the best sound since I was right by the speaker - but Jim's solo is amazing!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFSCMiBy6-s
Well, need I say how phenomenally well these guys played together and how amazing the music sounded and how fantastic of a time I had? Words can't express it anyway. I will never forget it - that is for sure. And to add more fun into the mix, my dear friend Monica Reed had an afterglow party at her lake view home in Grosse Pointe Park. She is such an amazing woman - with so much energy, charisma, beauty and talent. I will write more about her - an admirable woman of integrity - in the near future on my Sacred Footing blog.
Jim McCarty continues to entertain his fans (blow us away with his incredible talent, skill and passion) around town at places like the Blue Goose Inn in Saint Clair Shores and Memphis Smoke in Royal Oak. He is even better these days, if that is possible, according to one of his close friends; well-known guitarist and studio musician: Vince Knight.
Jim and Vince will be playing together Wednesday, October 17 at the Blue Goose Inn at 28911 Jefferson Avenue, St. Clair Shores. Michigan. For information call 586-296-0950.
If you live in Michigan, especially the Detroit metropolitan area; or you will be traveling through - do not miss the opportunity to see and hear one of the greatest guitarists of all time, Jim McCarty.

Now, getting back to how music heals my soul: it's funny how sad music, like the blues and songs written to invoke the pain hidden inside, can actually heal one's heart and soul in a gentle and loving way. One of my girl-friends and I had a code saying; "It's a Sarah kind of day," when things in life were less than good . . . when things in life had us depressed . . . referring to Sarah McLachlan, the melancholy goddess of gloom and contemplation.

Bernie Taupin said it best when he wrote the lyrics for the Elton John song: Sad Songs

Guess there are times when we all need to share a little pain
And ironing out the rough spots
Is the hardest part when memories remain
And it's times like these when we all need to hear the radio
`Cause from the lips of some old singer
We can share the troubles we already know

Turn them on, turn them on
Turn on those sad songs
When all hope is gone
Why don't you tune in and turn them on

They reach into your room
Just feel their gentle touch
When all hope is gone
Sad songs say so much

If someone else is suffering enough to write it down
When every single word makes sense
Then it's easier to have those songs around
The kick inside is in the line that finally gets to you
and it feels so good to hurt so bad
And suffer just enough to sing the blues

Sad songs, they say
Sad songs, they say
Sad songs, they say
Sad songs, they say so much

And that's how the blue's heals my blues.

The Summer's Last Hurrah

Here in Michigan, we talk about the weather a lot . . . but usually the conversations are about the freezing temperatures . . . when is this cold spell going to end, we need rain, we need it to stop raining, no more snow, please . . . but over the Labor Day weekend the talk about town was how absolutely perfect the weather was and has been. Clear, blue skies, sunny and hot, temps in the mid to upper eighties. The Labor Day holiday weekend in Detroit is always celebrated with many great city and family events. We Michiganders mourn the ending of the summer season (and begin dreading the colder months ahead) by partying all we can. Here in the Motor City we LOVE to party and being blessed with this beautiful weather in September only added to our celebratory spirit.

I tried to fit in all that I could, but not nearly everything, for that would have been impossible. I did not make it to the Jazz Festival (read Erik's Blog) or the Arts, Beats and Eats Festival or the Romeo Peach Festival . . . but I did get to Belle Isle for the Grand Prix qualifying races on Friday. The roar of those engines is such an adrenalin rush. We rode out to Belle Isle with legendary Bike Builder (Discovery Channel's Biker Build Off winner) Ron Finch. We hung around with Big Daddy Arthur P. from WRIF. Anyone who has lived in Detroit during the past 30 more years has heard Arthur's voice, "Baby!" on the radio. On the ride back we stopped off in Hamtramk for the Polish Festival to grab some food . . . pierogis, city chicken, potato pancakes, stuffed cabbage, kraut, and of course, the firefighters famous chili (not Polish but a tradition nonetheless).
Family gatherings and birthdays filled Saturday and Sunday . . . and I ended the long weekend with the Alice Cooper concert at the Michigan State Fair on Monday. Alice, another one of Detroit's homeboys, comes home every year to perform a free concert at the State Fair. He still rocks - he sang for two hours.

So, after a day of recovering - yesterday - it's back to the daily grind (or not). But, the weather . . . well, the weather is still absolutely beautiful and I'm soaking in all of this ninety degree heat before the blue skies open to gray and the autumn chill fills the air.

Crossing the Belle Isle Bridge

The gang at the Grand Prix on Belle Isle

One of the qualifying races

Detroit icons Ron Finch and WRIF's Arthur P.

Luke and his 'big' sister Alexia at the Labor Day birthday parties

Nathan (my grandson) practicing his basketball skills at the family bbq

Adam making a beer run before the Alice Cooper concert begins

The best I could do as the night fell over the crowd

Luke, Rich and Adam placing their bets

My friend Debbie, her daughter Zoe and me (back to my brown)
at the Michigan State Fair

A Groupie of the "Formerly Ofs"

We pulled into Pine Knob Amphitheater early; at about 5:45 pm. (I know it's called DTE now, but only by the corporate suits - it will always be Pine Knob to all of us here in Michigan!) Great White was headlining the concert that evening. The first band, L.A Guns, was to go on at 7:00 pm, so the parking lot was still quite empty for the most part. About sixty cars were scattered throughout the lot and coolers of beer (my guess . . . "Bud") were being unloaded and opened as eighties metal rock played from car stereo speakers. The tailgating parties were about to ensue as the mood of a decadent decade was re-created.

Debbie (my crazy rocker chick friend - Janice's incarnation) and I walked up to the "will call" window to get the tickets my friend Mike left for me.

Mike Fasano is a lead drummer from L.A. (Burbank). He played with the eighties band, Warrant. Among his many other current musical projects and band gigs, Mike is now back together and touring with some of the original Warrant band members, including lead singer Jani Lane (pictured in the above photo taken back stage after the concert. I am the 'groupie' in the shot).

Debbie and I passed through the gates, bought a couple of seven dollar beers from the Budweiser welcoming committee and walked around to enjoy the water falls and gardens. The summer evening was beautifully typical of Michigan summers; partly sunny and very humid with the temperature being in the high eighties - everything was in or from 'the eighties' that night (with 'high' being optional).

People watching was especially entertaining . . . big hair everywhere . . . mall bangs, long rock-n-roll hair and the eighties signature look - the mullet (as it had been said: 'business in the front, party in the back!'). I was truly transported back to 1986, that was until some karaoke guy started singing a horribly flat crappioke rendition of Bob Seger's "Old Time Rock-n-Roll."
Can't someone shut him up? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?

The crowd also consisted of many younger fans - children's arms being rocked and rolled about by their enthusiastic parents and teenage boys who are wise enough beyond their years to know rock and roll will never die.

And the outfits! I guess a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to get the attention of the rock stars . . . unless the girl's lucky and has a friend in the band like me! So, that saved me some cash and a trip to Lover's Lane - I wore my worn in and dearly loved jeans and my old Harley boots. Oh, and of course a shirt. But, the rock fashion spectacular was a hoot to watch. A hoot I say!

The L.A Guns opened the show. They really warmed us all up - but then rock and rollers are always ready for a reason to jump and scream and get all hot and sweaty.

Jani Lane and the "Formerly Ofs," (that's Mike's band) were up next. I took some great shots from the second row. Everyone that close closely eyes everyone else . . . girls sizing each other up competition style to see who will get further and farther back stage; guys looking for potential after show action with the thinking that because they are so close to the stage they are themselves are rock stars in the second degree. I was so proud of Mike and so happy to see him perform with his old gang at a big venue again. This is what he does - he is an L.A. rock musician/drummer - and he loves it.

Jani Lane and Chad

Lane, Shawn and Dario ( the boy wonder at the 'just turned' age of eighteen)

The meet and greet signing after the show

Did I feel guilty not having to stand in a long line for this hug? Hell No!

After some more beer, a few Doritos and a Twinkie backstage, (yes, that's how rock stars party! They eat Twinkies - and that folks is the real answer to how and why Rock and its Rollers will live forever - have you ever seen a molded Twinkie?) Debbie and I went side stage to catch some of Great White's act.

To see that sea of people - the packed crowd - from that angle is amazing! I could feel the energy being poured forth from all of the appreciative fans who were slowly pushing their way toward the stage as the night got later and later.

And that was my groupie experience.
I am a former groupie of the "Formerly Ofs."
The end
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The Sounds of the City

A couple of months ago I moved a few miles south - to Detroit. Not into a trendy lush loft or a gated community or even the historical district. I moved to a hundred year old brick home on an average street in the city limits.


The few streets south of me are well maintained and semi-protected by a neighborhood watch. Day lilies grow tall in front of beautiful old brick homes. Cars are off the streets and neatly parked in driveways or garages. Children play on mowed lawns under a parent's watchful eye.


The few streets north of me are the ones that come to mind when one hears the words; the hood, the ghetto, or 'Detroit city' for that matter. Broken appliances and ripped up couches perpetually wait at curb-sides with other garbage to be cleaned up at the next big trash pickup. Abandoned vehicles, some resting on a pile of bricks where the wheel once was, line the streets leaving only enough room for one car to pass one way. Vacant, burned houses are left to rot, adding to the city's decay. They are welcome invitations to un-welcomed disaster in an already fragile community. Stray dogs wander between houses sniffing for food (when they are not left dead in the road for days) and skinny stray cats dart back and forth between cars. Young children walk around looking for something to do as if none of this harsh reality exists in their eyes (probably because it's all they know) while crack heads, prostitutes and drug dealers go about their daily routines. The other day I saw the Detroit Police Gang Squad down that way making an arrest. Things I never really saw before or cared to know about while I lived in my comfy yuppie town just a few miles north.

I have learned to decipher the difference between the sounds of firecrackers and shotguns. Yes, the sounds of shot guns are real, and within my earshot.
"Those were bullets." I can now say, proud that I am correct.

The kids play basketball on my street. They ride their bikes and try to keep busy during the lazy, mundane summer days. There are no beautiful parks or community pools. Occasionally, the neighborhood kids might hop a fence to play in the yard of the empty house for sale across the street. My next door neighbor owned that home but the taxes got too high for him to be able to keep. Pity, uh, the city needs people to buy these homes and maintain them, but the taxes are so high for the little or complete lack of services that the residents receive here. Suburbanites don't want to trade their comfort, safety and taxpaying services for what exists behind door number 313. (Detroit's area code for those of you unfamiliar with the "three-one-three.") Gone are the days of pizza delivery for me, but the ice cream trucks do come by frequently. They add their musical twangs to the woofers and tweeters and the heavy bass of hip hop that beat and vibrate through the rivers of cement - the city's pulse.

The other night my white cat, Thea, got out as I let my Golden Retriever, Emmy, in. My son, Luke and I ran around the street for almost twenty minutes trying to catch her. She is used to being outdoors, but I have not let her out since we moved to Detroit; for safety reasons. Here I am, no shoes running with a can of cat food to try to bribe her or trap her. I was on a mission and I didn't feel like I was in harm's way by frantically running barefoot down my street and between my neighbor's houses. The street lights were on and some of the kids were still out playing ball. Some neighbors were sitting on their stoops - I can finally use the word 'stoop.' Love that word! Needless to say, we finally captured her. But not before I smashed my hand into the brick of a neighbor's home in the process of grabbing her. It took two of us to bring her squirming body and meowing mouth home safely. Those were the sounds of city two nights ago.


Last night, the sounds of the city had a different beat in mind for me. No, not the normal fire truck sirens, helicopters scouring the neighborhood, loud car radios, or even gun shots . . . the sounds of downtown called me out this time.





My friend, Dennis Archer Jr. hosted a party at Coach Insignia on the 71rst floor of Marriott Hotel in the Renaissance Center. I almost did not go. I have become (too) comfortable in my semi-reclusive present state (sitting in pajamas in front my computer, reading, writing or just staring at wordless pages on a blank screen) and I did not want to venture out, especially to a city gala, alone. I changed my mind (due to some external urging and internal dialog).


I showered, did the hair and makeup routine, got dressed up and left my cave. I wanted to support my friend in his efforts to shine a positive light on Detroit by planning and hosting these trendy city events as well as publishing the very glossy and beautiful Ambassador Magazine. I have to say, I am so happy I went.




The 180 degree view of the city's lights, the Detroit River and Windsor (Canada) from the 71rst floor was spectacular. I almost forgot how wonderful it is to be out with the beautiful people at the 'who's who' events. The ambiance of the party was lovely . . . dimly lit with candles . . . giving us, the guests, the illusion of looking like the Ambassador cover models who were moving around as objects of art. And Michael Jackson's "Rock With Me," among other dance tunes, gave more rhythm to the night and inspired the statuesque goddesses to dance upon their thrones. After a couple of hours, a glass of Chardonnay and a few hors d'oeuvres, I slipped out quietly and unnoticed. I could not remember the exact time my cocktail dress would change back to my writing pajamas - and to my horror. So, those were the sounds of the city last night.


Tonight, I may meander down to the end of my street and join the hippies - as we call them - in their weekly drum circle and bonfire. Dr. Bob's holistic Center for the Healing Arts and vegetarian 'Innate Cafe' add an eclectic charm and much positive energy to our block. That good energy radiates outward, I'm sure, sending a vibe of peace to the surrounding communities of Detroit. Tonight, the beat of the drums will be among the sounds heard. I love the many sounds of this city.

Now, I must go and water my flowers and feed the birds - the Cardinals are calling me out. As my son, Adam, said to me when I moved here; "So, you're bringing a little positive energy to the city, uh, mom?"


Well, all I can say is that I am taking care of my little corner of the world - and God knows that this corner can use the TLC.

And yes, my flower garden has brought a few more butterflies and birds around here. They don't care what city they live in and they have no prejudices or opinions . . . a flower is a flower and a gardener is a gardener.