Another One Bites the Dust

Discussion of the demolition of the Park Avenue Hotel, as published by Deadline Detroit

View of the Park Avenue Hotel through the construction fence, shortly before it was demolished
View of the Park Avenue Hotel through the construction fence, shortly before it was demolished

“So devastating, but so controlled.” That was the eloquent observation of Uncle Nate, a homeless man and self-professed Detroit historian who summarized the demolition of the once-beautiful Italian Renaissance, Park Avenue Hotel Saturday morning. To him, the instantaneous obliteration of the massive, 13-story structure at 2643 Park Avenue in the Cass Corridor was a clear reminder of how much easier it is to destroy than to build. This is a truth that Detroit must reckon with every day, which is why it is so important to carefully consider what we allow to be taken away.

New York used to be the city with no past– beautiful edifices were sacrificed with minimal controversy to make way for the new and the better. New Yorkers who disagreed with such practices lamented the loses, but ultimately surrendered to their powerlessness to stop the forces of progress and change, the loss of something so irretrievable as a demolished building. That was, until, the original Penn Station was destroyed and replaced by the current iteration, which is to the old station what cardboard is to marble. Not coincidentally, the removal of Penn Station also made way for the construction of Madison Square Garden, the stale arena which is architecturally stale.

This was the final straw– New Yorkers, historians and architects organized to create the landmark preservation act, which was immediately used to protect Grand Central Station. It has been responsible for saving hundreds of historical structures since. It also paved the way for national preservationist movements of the same form.
Continue reading “Another One Bites the Dust”

Taut

IMG_3435How many times
can we bend till we break?
How much strain can you take?
What’s your tensile strength?

Hold me, and then
Like a kite with no weight
Pull the line nice and straight
Out of sight into space.

If I pluck the string
Will it vibe and erate?
Will it snap in my face?
What is this song’s fate?

Road to Rhode Island

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Written in honor and memory of friend and colleague Steven Kolberg, whose battle with cancer and and dance with life ended today.

We drove to that strange state
packed tight in the car and buckled in
with greeting cards and a somber air.

There in the back yard,
I was surprised that he could see me,
and that he looked like himself
and that the lawn was lush green with life

It had the strange feel of a graduation party combined with a wake:
An uncle here, a high school friend there,
“Amy says hi” and “What’s your favorite beer these days?”

But there was a gurney on the yard with a thick body bag over it,
which turned out to be a kayak but oh my god, the thought!
And there was his comment about not being able to taste sugar or feel temperature or read anymore.
And there was a mountain of pill bottles just across the counter from the spread of submarine sandwiches and brownie platters and veggie dip.

We told stories,
and laughed
and paused awkwardly because what do you say?
This is his last party. Continue reading “Road to Rhode Island”

Scuba

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I wondered if the blood would attract the shark.
But even as I watched him through my mask,
even as I sensed his concentrated raw power that could be unleashed at any moment,
even when he turned so that he was
not just Swimming but Swimming Toward Me
my period had not yet come.

How odd that neither silent predator nor existential threat
made me worry as I should.
I should have felt the timeless anxious flush (that men can only know secondhand)
of near certainty that I am
not just Late but Late for a Reason
and the burden will be mine to carry.

Oh and the timing couldn’t be worse because, for once,
I have opened my cautious aching heart to someone (else).
Someone who, because he is a real man and a good one,
would never put me in this position:
alone, squatting over a Mexican pregnancy test,
considering impossible possibilities.

But here I am, yet strangely calm because,
no matter if the love lasts,
or the blood flows,
or the line forms,
in this moment I am loved and have loved.

And that truth,
like a breath of fresh air 60 feet underwater,
fills me with an unreasonable peace
in the face of that
mortal, lurking,
ancient, biting
threat.

Gone Spargeling

5WbNBE1Ttvh45zaJhcVUbFcLudwY_dPae4CeVaI0ohIAs I laced up my running shoes I told my Mom: “I’ll be at the turn in the road where the asparagus grows in 15 minutes.” She didn’t seem to want to go unless everyone could come and went about trying to rally the scattered troops. I finally left, frustrated that mom was going to miss out on something she wanted because it wasn’t going to be perfect. “Let’s just do it!” I thought. “Why does it have to be all or nothing?” I made mental markers of various patches of roadside asparagus as I ran and shook my head that we wouldn’t pick it after all. And then, as I rounded that one dangerous corner where the road cuts sharply and you can’t see cars or pedestrians or even tractors from either direction, there was mom. There was mom! Continue reading “Gone Spargeling”

Gone shroomin’

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We went searching for morels. We knew, vaguely, where to find them– in moist woody areas along dead and rotting trees. We knew, more or less, what they looked like– small vertical sprouts with a white stalk and a dark cap. We knew that the time was right– more than a few of our tree-hugging Instagram friends had been showing off their bounty, and then there was also the man with waders and camo pants who had the decency to break the first rule of mushroom hunting and show us where to look. But that didn’t mean we could actually find them. Continue reading “Gone shroomin’”

On Hold, Hold On

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as published on The Huffington Post

There is something infuriating and infantilizing about dialing a phone number and reaching a recorded message. Even if the amount of time lost in only a few seconds, the helplessness of interacting with a non-sentient being can be hard to handle. This is especially true when there is waste built in to the messaging. Like anyone, I’ve spent a lot of time on the phone with a recording on the other end, and it’s given me the chance to think about all the ways we could be doing better.

“Unusually high call volume”

Continue reading “On Hold, Hold On”

mmm

Originally published in Periphery Magazine ; Audio version here

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Listen. There was a time when people did not speak. The entire human vocabulary consisted of a single noise. It was an even hum, a length of m’s strung together, monosyllabic and vowel-free. “Mmm” one might say, and the response would be “mmm” right back.

These early sounds carried only one meaning: acceptance. A birth or a death, a sunrise or a sunset, a flood or a fire, a snowflake or a bud: each was greeted without bias or emotion. It simply was, so it was simply accepted. Mmm.

Acceptance begets acceptance, so humans rarely spoke alone. When someone let out an “mmm,” it would often meet the ear of another person who, likely enough, was feeling acceptance right at that moment, or who wished to say “I accept your acceptance” and would “mmm” in return. The mmm’s merged together and the song grew.

And, when enough humans mmm’d together at just the right tone, the hum would catch at something invisible deep in the ground. There is only one resonant frequency of the planet, and the human hum matched the chord. Vibrating like a guitar string plucked by human voices, the very earth would sing- humming its one beautiful pure note, sounding its acceptance in return. Of all the animals, only humans could cause the earth to hum, which is why the humans were entrusted as the Keepers of the Earth. This bond was reinforced each time they joined together in the sacred communion of acceptance. Mmm.

At this time, there was no hate, because there was no sound for it. There was no love, because there was no word for it. Emotions existed, but they were like shadows that the heart never cast in the universal light of acceptance. There was only one thought, only one feeling, and only one note but it was perfectly tuned. It was that way for a very long while.

Listen A woman and a man lay in the early afternoon sun. They joined their bodies together in the way people sometimes do, and occasionally they would “mmm” in the way that people sometimes did. Within that the moment when tension gives way to release, the woman’s acceptance crossed over into something more and she cried out: “mmm!” It was the same noise as every other human noise had always been, yet something about it was undeniably different. That’s because it didn’t mean “I accept” or “I acknowledge” or even “I concur,” it meant “YES.” Through the experience of pleasure, she had come to know approval, and a new word was conceived.

With their bodies still intertwined, the man stopped and stared at the woman. Her eyes shone and her lips curled up at the edges- it was the first smile the man had ever seen. Seeing her this way, something shifted in his heart and he understood what she had meant. He spoke back at her in the new way. “Mmm!” “Yes.” “I agree with your agreement.” “What we did was good and what you said about what we did was good” all this was said with the new sound. The feeling was utterly new but immediately recognizable. Yes.

Approval begets approval, and so the new sound spread rapidly. Humans began using their noises to agree with things: “mmm” to a sunrise, “mmm” to a meal, “mmm” to pleasure. It was a beautiful time of affirmation and encouragement and approval. When enough mmm’s were hummed, the earth still sang back, but it was weaker than before because the sound was changed, and it was shorter than before because these mmm’s caused the people to break out laughing, so great was their joy.

Listen– A woman watched as her father lay weak on his deathbed. She had witnessed many passings in her life, but none since the new word had been born. She hummed over his frail body, a song of acceptance of his release from life, a song of approval of what he had done with it– and then, the old man’s peaceful stillness was broken by a sudden shallow gasp, and his last living breath passed through his open lips. The woman’s song caught in her throat and the tone shifted: “mmmm!” This sound, it was the same but also different. It was not an expression of acceptance or approval. It was a rejection, a dismissal, a curse: “NO.” The woman had discovered pain and its remnants were this new word.

The other mourners looked at the woman. There was an ache in her eyes and her cheek was wet. It was the first tear they had ever seen. The anguished sound carried a feeling that echoed in the heart of each person and the room broke out in a swell of “mmm.” Together they joined to express a sorrow that they never knew existed with this new sort of sound.

Disapproval begets disapproval, and the new sound spread rapidly. The chorus of consensus was broken and people began to speak this other “mmm” to lament and dissent and express discontent. It was unpleasant but satisfying. Some people tried to stop it but they could not, because there can be no head without a hind and there can be no “yes” without a “no,” not for long anyway. And once their hearts had grown to know the emotion of pain, truly there was no going back. When enough mmms were hummed, the earth still sang back, but it was even weaker than before because the sound was distorted, and it was shorter than before because these mmm’s caused the people to break out crying, so great was their sadness.

From there, new noises with new meanings continued to come about. Like ever-expanding concentric circles, each new sound revealed another, until there were “mmms” of every possible kind. There was an “mmm” that meant “I’m tired,” an “mmm” that meant “are you sure?” There was an “mmm” that meant “I don’t know” and an “mmm” that meant “I dare you.” There was an “mmm” that meant “I love you” and even an “mmm” that meant “I love you too.” People were limited only by the physical range of their voices– it was an exciting and occasionally noisy time.

As the mmms expanded, so did people’s emotional capacity. Human hearts learned to express feelings that matched every variation of the sound and every situation that prompted it. With so many things to communicate, there were abundant occasions to speak, and the constant vibrations of the humming noises sang out all the more. The “mmms” created chords and dischords, harmonies and disharmonies. When enough mmm’s were hummed, the earth shuddered and sputtered, but it did not truly sing as it had once before.

Listen– A woman bent over a bowl of rice as she prepared a meal for her family. Suddenly, a crow landed on her shoulder and with a booming “maw!” he snatched a grain from her bowl and flew away. The woman was so startled that called “mmmaw!” in response. Now she was doubly surprised- she had spoken an entirely new sound for the first time. The noise brought with it a new sort of feeling– the crow had taken something and the woman wanted it back. She watched as the crow returned to his flock and cackled and crowed with the other birds. “Maw” they all said to each other and she understood. This was a word of possession, of ownership, of competition. “Mine.”

The woman dropped her meal preparations and ran to share the discovery with her neighbors. From their doorsteps, they heard the sound of a crow coming from the body of a woman. Seeing her parted lips as she belted out the sound, they understood the power of this innovation and they immediately wanted the new sound for themselves. They responded in turn. “Maw!”

Change begets change, and it was not long before people turned to other animals for inspiration. From the cat they adopted a rattling “prrrr,” from the dog, they acquired a clipped “rart!,” from the other birds they delighted in a dizzying array of sounds from “liip” to “skree” to “walloo” and “tititi” and many many, many more. People wondered how it was that they had heard these sounds so many times before but never taken them for themselves. Eagerly they stretched their mouths, lips, tongues and throats in strange new ways, speaking in a jangle of sounds. They gained access to consonants and vowels and configurations previously untapped until words developed, then sentences, then languages.

 

As the range of noises expanded, so did people’s intellectual capacity. Each new meaning gave rise to a new thought, and the human mind expanded to ever-greater reaches of knowledge. Like a cauldron of entropy, new words and new ideas bubbled forth.

 

In time, humans became so intelligent that they learned how to master the world around them. They tamed and caged wild animals. They engineered massive structures. They mined rich minerals deep in the earth. As people’s brains got smarter and their dominion over the earth increased, they lost respect for other beings. They began to think that their power meant they were better and that their control gave them license to exploit. They began to think that Keepers of the Earth meant People over Earth.

All the while, people talked and talked. With so much to say, they no longer bothered to mmm.

A hummingbird in an orchard of diluted nectar may stick its tongue down every flower but never extract satisfaction from the faded fluid. A person in a world of modern language may lend his voice to every word but never conjugate fulfillment from the flat sounds. Words could never give what the hum gives so freely, but the humans had lost it, they became head-wise and heart-foolish. They forgot to remember the keystone beneath it all. They forgot to remember that the world used to murmur back.

Sometimes the earth would agitate itself with a quake and a sputter, in a weak and desperate attempt to remind humans of what they are capable of together, but such tremors only made the people talk more. The earth, weary with the effort of strumming itself, returned back to dormancy like a bear who wakes to find that the long winter has not yet passed. The earth has not truly resonated with its own songs for centuries.

Listen. One day, there will be a pair of lovers in a crowded bar. The voices of the crowd will clamor together loudly and the couple will not be able to hear each other speak. Their minds will be full of thoughts but their words will be useless in the throng. So, the woman will draw close to the man and she will utter a single sound against the soft of his neck: “mmm.” He will feel the vibration of her sound, he will feel her acceptance of that moment and of him and of what they are sharing, and he will be overcome with its purity. “Mmm” he will say in return. Their eyes will meet and they will sing their simple song together, feeling the peace of that noise and knowing in the base of their souls that there is some truth to what they have just done.

In time, they will have a child. They will greet her each morning “mmm” and each night’s lullaby will be “mmm.” They will “mmm” to her first step and fiercest tantrum and silent sigh. They will feel a quality in every “mmm” that removes their desire to speak and eases their need to be right and that gently hums them into an acceptance they had never known before.

Together, as a family, they will sing as one.

One day, because unity begets unity, more people will join in. The words of the unfinished sentences will fall from people’s mouths and they will join the song. The different words and languages and tones will start off disjointed, but they will merge and converge and settle into a single tone until each dialect’s and tribe’s and individual’s sounds engage into one perfect harmony.

People will be overcome with the power that their simple song has to join them together, but even so, they will be humbled by what comes next: the very earth will tremble.

It will tremble in recognition of a sound more powerful than all the words of all the languages that have ever been and can ever be spoken. The birds will call out and the animals will shift and pace, anxious in the face of the aura looming. The miners low in the caves and the builders high on the skyscrapers will lock eyes in fear of the unstable ground beneath them, but the power of their unity and the purity of the chord will keep them from dropping the note.

Then, at last, the earth will pick up the song. To the unfamiliar ears of the people, this sound will seem to come from nowhere and everywhere. It will envelop them completely like a sweet wind that carries away every thought or judgment and leaves behind only truth, this is the song of universal acceptance.

Though no living soul will know it, the sound will be ever-so-slightly different from was it was once before, a flat note made sharp from the carved-out caves and mounded-up mountains that altered the planet’s resonance. The earth will be changed by what the people have done to it and the people will be changed by what they have done to the earth. The humans can no sooner forget their intelligence than a plate of glass can be reassembled, their hearts can no more easily un-feel feelings than can minerals be un-mined from the earth. But it will not truly matter that the players have changed. What will matter is that there is still a frequency at which the voices of the earth and its people intersect and that they can still commune together after all they have been through.

Amidst the hum of our native tongue, humans will once again become worthy of their post as the Keepers of the Earth, and all will give way to acceptance of that great and glorious mmmmmmmmm.

 

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when to say


fullsizerender-5When do you say “I love you” to someone for the very first time?

You shouldn’t say it the first time you think it,
because the love may change,
and even if it doesn’t, he may not be ready to hear it.

You shouldn’t hold it for forever in your heart,
because the words are a gift,
and if the love is true, it’s one that’s meant to be given.

There are sunsets and anniversaries and quiet mornings and fits of passion–
all worthy contenders in the answer to this question–
but where and how it is not the most important part.

So say it when the words spill out,
when not saying it is impossible,
when it is almost an act of selfish relief.

Say it when the love is so strong that you don’t know what to do about it,
and you have to share it.
So that it becomes yours to bear, together.