Cities are more than just a collection of people living in one place. They are filled with historical sites, collective memories, stories that bind us together. They aren't just parcels of real estate that we slap a name on and "brand" as a development. These identities have developed over time, but, even as they dissolve, like the fading words chiseled onto an old building, they provide a hint of what once was there. For a city so determined to knock down its past, a Detroiter gets to feeling mighty vulnerable about what remains, and what is lost.

Which brings me to Harmonie Park. First of all: What a great little urban space. It's like an oasis in the middle of the city. The triangular and trapezoidal chaos of Judge Augustus Woodward's failed 1807 plan bore some fruit here, creating a walkable little spot near all the major thoroughfares. It's a beautiful place, and it's no coincidence that it has served as a vibrant little enclave for different milieus over the years, from ethnic groups to artists. It was the site of the Harmonie Club, which likely took its name from the park. As for the name itself, I don't know where it came from, but it has summed up this little area for more than 150 years.

At least it's still standing, of course. The old nearby Paradise Valley entertainment district is completely gone now. The last club of the old black entertainment district was demolished to make way for Ford Field, and now only a Michigan historical marker shows that anything was ever there. This represents just another failure of the local imagination, another loss for our local identities as Detroiters, another break in the continuum of culture. It's gone and I mourn that I never got to see, touch, feel or experience it.

As much as I mourn that which I never saw -- Paradise Valley -- I understand that it is gone and cannot be reproduced. Which makes me wonder why the city is so hell-bent on taking Harmonie Park and renaming it Paradise Valley. This isn't how history works. You don't demolish one historical area and then take another area and try to "rebrand" it as what's gone. This doesn't make a lick of sense, and actually goes some way toward removing even more of the actual identity of a place. It's as if -- after long hard work and lots of thinking -- Detroit's leadership has found a way to pervert historical continuity without hiring Adamo. Why, oh, does the city think we should now call Harmonie Park by the name of the entertainment district that the city helped destroy? Discuss.