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.

Tomato drill

Julie: How was school?

Ashton: Good, mom. We had a tomato drill and had to go into the basement.

Julie: Tomato drill, huh?

Ashton: YES, MOM. THAT'S WHAT I SAID. A TOMATO DRILL!

Grilled bunny

Awww ... bunny looks like he's just taking a nap, doesn't he? She? It?

I'll get back to the All About Anne stories when I get some more photos scanned. Today, Sharon is going to tell us what happened to the bunny in this framed photo displayed in the front bedroom.

We were on our way to Chicago - just a typical trip for a long weekend visiting family and shopping. We stopped at McDonald's, then near St. Charles we saw a bunny in the middle of the road.

I remember saying, "Hurry up, little bunny!" And when I looked in the mirror, I didn't see it, so figured it must have gotten away and we kept going. We stopped once more - in Indiana - and then continued on to the suburb outside of Chicago where Jake's brother lives. We parked the car, unloaded and went inside.

There are some great places to shop all around that area, so the next day my niece Katie and I headed out to engage in some serious retail therapy.

When we came out of the first store, there was a crowd of people gathered around the front of the car. They were all talking excitedly and taking pictures with their cell phones.

I said, "Uh oh. That can't be good."

Katie offered to take a look.

As I stood there with our packages, just another curious onlooker, Katie hurried back with the news.

"Aunt Sharon! It's a rabbit!"

Right then I flashed back to the bunny in the road the day before. And I knew. And I realized that maybe, just maybe, we might have heard a tiny little thud after seeing that bunny who later disappeared.

No more pretending. I loaded the bags in the car, then went around the front and joined the gawkers. It sort of looked like it was just hanging out, taking a nap - it was so peaceful! Then this grandma approached me and offered to take care of it. She said, "Oh honey, that's gonna stink!"

But I told her we had to leave it there because I knew my husband was not going to believe this. That poor thing was really wedged in there.

So Katie and I got back in the car and figured why go all the way back home now? We might as well go to lunch. But the whole time we were driving, people would drive by, laughing, hanging out of their cars taking pictures. At the restaurant and two other stops I tried to park far away from the other cars, but it never worked. Every time we came out people would be there gawking. So we finally headed back to show the boys. After taking photos to show the insurance man, my brother-in-law extracted the rabbit. It was the darndest thing - hardly any blood. It really did look like it was resting. But that rabbit - which had to weigh at least 10 pounds - did about $1,000 worth of damage to the car, knocking out the front grille.

This happened not long after Jake had retired a little over three years ago. One of his new daily routines was to trap squirrels and the occasional skunk in our yard and then load them in the car for a trip out to the country where he would release them. He kept a running record of how many he transported each day.

So armed with this knowledge and the story of the poor grilled bunny, two of my friends decided we were a menace to rodents. One day during a staff meeting I looked up to see a little parade of stuffed rabbit, squirrel and skunk holding "Free the Rodents" signs pass my window.

I was always so sure we would see pictures of the bunny on the Internet, with all those people and their cell phones, but we never did.