Detroit

This past weekend another of my best friends got married. You leave the country, and its like all your friends are parceled out to different men-- of their own will, of course. This gave me a great excuse to get back to the Big D. The city of light, the city of grime, the city leading in both syphilis and obesity rates, with the nation's top murder rate to boot. In other words, we may have some extra rolls around but we still get down. To me, the city is a frail, elderly woman who lives in sub- optimal conditions. One look at her face, however, and you'll know that she is a dancer. This is the place I call home from a distance. This is the place where I always cry when I leave. For the last few days, I have been alternately tearing up and trying to hide it. When here, however, I notice that most of my friends who are trying to do "good in the hood" are also outsiders. Those I know who were actually born and raised here are trying to get out. In fact, I feel like I am back as an expat in Africa.

I would love to live here, in the community of med students, doctors, and community workers that are trying to get this city back on its feet. But is that who can really do it? I feel that I have been around the block with this idea long enough to know that it is leadership from and in this community that will determine it's future-- not the carpetbaggers. Not me. At this juncture, I realize how important it is for me to be a part of a community. I also realize that people return home, they don't really make a home. So, for the first time, I'm telling people I'm from South Dakota or Iowa, where my extended family is, where my parents were born. That is where I plan to go in January, after all. We'll see what happens!