She is bass lines and sirens. She is your relaxing reward for a day of hard work. She slaps the back of your head when you say something stupid. She does not wait for you to call; she hits the city anyway. She wants to see that gold iridescence and drive through the horizon. Up over hills of concrete, self timed roller coasters. There is no speed limit when the road is open. The stars fell from the sky to land on rooftops, diving from their homes in heaven to come see the commotion. They gather in restaurants and nightclubs.
They learned to dance from watching people in backyards. Music on the loudspeaker. Hums and hymns, Jesus would love a block party. He would spend his nights walking by the theater lights. He would stop to look at every mural, statue, and graffiti. I would walk by him, pretending not to shiver because this outfit was too good to swap to warmer jeans. He would smile and ask how we are on this fine night.
You don’t want to leave; you wonder if she could stay a bit longer. She knows better. You would too if the street lamps weren’t blinding your judgement. You’ll see her again; she always comes back. You’ll find her in the innate desire to dance. Swaying in a choir line at 8 pm in someone else’s church. At car shows and galas. Suits and dresses. A chic so perfected and suave you can feel it was crafted with 324 years of glamour. The Paris of the West lives. She always lives. She is a phoenix showing off her tricks. Just when you thought you found ash, a spark lights.
Detroit
The Motor City, Motown, The D, The 313. Whatever you call it. Nested into Michigan’s southeast, along the river, this city rooted in me a love for people, music, and late-night driving. Detroit has soul leaking out like gasoline drips on hot streets, leaving soul shining and waving to you as you drive by. It is so overflowing with soul that I have named it holy ground.
I find that holiness is often told to only reside in nature. While I appreciate this understanding, it separates pastoral or rural space as holy and urban space as human sin. In every hallmark movie, the big city is where the workaholic, cynical characters root. Cities are seen as too busy for the joy of life. I find this idea completely incorrect.
Cities bring together people and celebrate their connection. Cities pack strangers into close proximity to force understanding. I have seen this at work in Detroit; you are never a stranger here. Every person you pass offers you a nod, a hello, a how are you. These sparks of small connections create a holy spirit.
The Opera House
We were driving up to the Opera House in my dad’s rented Corvette. The car only had two seats, and yet we had to transport three people: my dad to drive, my older sibling, and me, the smallest. There was only one solution; the trunk would be too weird. I, at my father’s recommendation, tucked into the slightly covered top section behind the seats. I held on to the back of the seat headrest and stretched my toes to press against the window. I was a little guy then, so if I stretched out fully I could fit stiffly enough to not fall forward. I was the guy for the job.
Giggles bubbling the whole way downtown, my heart échapped to my stomach, my head grande jeté. One thing steadied me: the continuous reminder that my dad was driving, with him at the wheel, no reckless shenanigan could harm me.
Discover Detroit and The Riverfront
Me and Troye used to spend our summers on top of the world. When your mother teaches during the year, she’s free all summer. We spent our summers in the coolest, best organized, and, to my parents’ joy, cheapest summer camp “Discover Detroit.” Not to be confused with the Discover Detroit summer camp run by a company, this one was run by one woman, my mom.
With features like the Greenfield Village teahouse, every museum in midtown, and Reading and Rhythm by the Riverfront, we were the coolest kids in town. When you go to places with your mom, you don’t have to stay in an overcrowded camp group being ushered by a tired college student. Instead, all I had to do was make sure we liked our plans, and we were off to see everything. I believe this made us sickeningly curious, as museums are designed to do.
Reading and Rhythm by the Riverfront was the height of excitement. The gig was simple: music, free books, and a view of the water. The Riverwalk has remained a special place for me. On senior skip day, me and two best friends walked the Riverwalk. We played on every playground we saw. I ate a rock from the pea gravel and shoved more into my pocket; they now sit in a marked container on my desk.
The river is full of soul, its own and of Detroiters. It has stared me down on kayaking trips with my dad. It swings you slowly back and forth, cradling you into a soft meditation. It sings the names of brave sailors drowning their cars in an attempt to bring back spoils of liquor from pillaging Canada. It smells faintly of the fireworks dissolved in July.
Natural Spirit
My mother’s work opened up many corners of the city to me. She worked for Greening of Detroit, a non-profit supporting urban gardens and farms. In the summer, she would take us to work, touring people’s backyards. Troye and I would run through flower beds and get chased by chickens.
These visits put dreamy ideas in my head that no matter where I lived, I would have a garden. My mother flourished in the garden. I wet my feet and drank with a hose. I gathered ground tomatoes and ate them on the sidewalk. She taught me to love the earth and treat it well. It subsequently caused confusion when I heard people talk about cities lacking nature. Detroit is too big to lack., It has trees, fields, and gardens. I was raised on a city block one turn from Mack Ave and surrounded by woods and animals.
Benni Aho is a 21 year old Detroiter pursuing a Bachelor’s degree in creative writing and linguistics. As a student of poetry and creative nonfiction, Benni has found a love for blending memoir and poetic prose as a powerful medium through which to connect their stories to their passion for social justice. In 2022, they served on the Teen Advisory Council at Eastside Community Network and helped co-author the article “We Deserve a Say Too,” an article exploring Southeastern High School students’ disappointment with the nearby Stellantis factory and the lack of inclusion of young voices in the community benefits agreement process. That article appeared in the Fall 2022 Special Citizen Empowerment Issue of Riverwise.
