Big city. Small world.

Almost six weeks ago, Lizz moved to the big city of Detroit. Or DEEtroit. Land of taco trucks and at least 40 (+41 more) fabulous things to do.

I was in Nicaragua so was no help at all in the move. But after I returned home, I went to visit. I was a bit early so decided to drive around the neighborhood to check it out. If I had continued one way down the street, I discovered a park. The other way, I pulled out, looked up and immediately saw the Fisher Building just a few blocks away. Cool. I drove around the block and found myself on Woodward Avenue and Chandler - right across from the Metropolitan United Methodist Church. Holy cow. I'd heard stories about Dad and Uncle Lee's childhood when they'd lived at 51 Chandler Street. Did Lizz really just move a few blocks away?

I thought I remembered that the house they'd lived in had been torn down, but snapped a photo of the house next to the parking lot and sent it to Uncle Lee.

Here is his response:

Your picture is very close to 51 Chandler, actually next door. On a business trip to Detroit in 1983 I drove back to the old neighborhood out of nostalgia, only to find that 51 Chandler was gone, paved over, and was that church parking lot you have in your picture. An alley used to separate the parking lot from the Metropolitan (United) Methodist Church.

The house next door to where Dad and Uncle Lee lived
70+ years ago - just a few blocks from where
Lizz lives today!

As kids we went to Friday night movies (10 cents) in the church theater and had the church grounds as our playground for hide and seek, cowboys and Indians, etc.  

Before I was in kindergarten I regularly followed after Mr. Shanks, the custodian, as he made his daily rounds. He and his wife had a small apartment in the church basement, where I was often treated to cookies and milk.

The house in your picture belonged to Mrs. Caswell, and her daughter - a budding photographer - lived with her. I was a regular visitor there by the time I was about five, and again I was indulged with homemade cookies and milk.  

Her daughter took a couple of photographs of me using, as I recall, one of those big Graflex cameras you have seen in 1930s-era movies where the newspaper photographer, with hat tilted to the back of his head, is covering the crime scene or the boxing match. I actually have one of those photos back in Maryland.

When we received Lizz's latest note and I saw the return address, I was curious whether it was close to our house on Chandler. The name rang a bell. 

Anyway, I could go on and on about the old neighborhood and how dramatically it had changed from my childhood. I could also go on about how Dad described it to me when Detroit called itself  "the garden spot of the universe." (That was before World War I!)

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In all of the big city of Detroit, how cool is it that Lizz moved to the New Center area, just a few blocks from where her grandfather spent his early years? Small world, isn't it?

Her new-old house.

The  screened-in porch is a pleasant hangout.