I've been over here since June and cannot explain it.
Merely one block from the devastation of Detroit, and kids are playing in their front yards as if it were Maybury...or Stepford. It is QUIET here. Eerily quiet.
There is the strangest sense of security and safety the moment you cross the city boundary.
The cops keep an eye out, but are not heavy-handed.
Heck, one night during the summertime, one unmarked car pulled over a Vespa-driving lad around two in the morning directly in front of my friend's home...if I hadn't been awake I would have never known it.
The Vespa was left on the street, with the helmet hung on the handlebars, until later that next afternoon. Untouched. It wasn't impounded...which it clearly could've been.
They do keep a close eye on Mack Avenue, and I've heard of people getting pulled over for only driving five over...and the cops ARE very sneaky during morning rush hours, hiding with two wheels parked up on the sidewalk on the Detroit side to be just out of sight. [[they should be spanked for THAT one!)
But even the national chains, including CVS and the hardware store, have SUCH greater service compared to their sister stores throughout the city...it is simply mind-boggling to ponder the depth of causality. People are just civil here...and the ones I've met are REALLY into the city. Just not into it enough to throw their money into the leaky sieve of the politics of the town, beyond their significant 1.5% income taxation without representation for continuing to keep their offices downtown.
The race down Jefferson in the morning, along with the parallel circuits down Kercheval and Charlevoix, are pretty damn funny to watch and participate in, too. If these folks had the 'power' that some of my conspiracy friends attribute to them, the lights on Jefferson would be timed properly. Ahem.
Cheers and a bit more...here's a tip of my morning tea to GP [[and its fractional derivatives) and whatever weirdness is hidden just beyond plain sight. There is more to this place than merely white people on parade...which is the only thing I could think of while scanning this past Sunday's complimentary issue of the Grosse Pointe Times. I cannot remember any person of color in any of the photographs. Twisted to the extreme.
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