Posted on 01/12/2014 11:07:45 AM PST by SeekAndFind
My first job out of college was working for a construction company in Detroit.
“We’re an all-black company and I need a clean-cut white boy,” my boss told me over drinks in a downtown bar when he hired me. “Customers in the suburbs don’t want to hire a black man.”
When a service call would come in, we would ask, “Does he sound white or black?” If it was the former, I would bid the job. If the latter, my boss would. Detroit is one of the most segregated metro areas in the nation, and for the first time I was getting what it felt like to be on the other side of that line. In contrast to the abstract verbal yoga students at the University of Michigan would perform when speaking about race, this was refreshing.
And terrifying. I couldn’t hide behind fancy words any longer.
I grew up in rural Michigan, 45 minutes away from any freeway. I’m the first male member of my family in three generations never to have worked in front of a lathe, and aside from one uncle, I’m the oldest with all of my fingers intact. The university had given me some grandiose ideas like “true solidarity with the oppressed,” and I figured “the oppressed” lived in Detroit, never mind the patrimony. I thought I was making a sacrifice. I thought moving here was staying home when everyone else was leaving the state. I thought I was going to change the world and had some vague notions of starting a school. I cringe at how naive I was. I first rented an apartment in the city, sight unseen, that didn’t have a kitchen sink, so I did my dishes in the bathtub.
Aside from bidding jobs, I spent my days like everyone else: sanding floors in cheap rentals for $8.50 an hour, which got me thinking: I could buy a house and fix it up myself. Not that I was sure how to go about buying, let alone renovating a house. It was just an inexplicit dream, some trick that would keep me from leaving like everyone else, make me a true Detroiter.
CLICK ABOVE LINK FOR THE REST ( AND WATCH THE PHOTOS OF THE HOUSE AND HIS NEIGHBORHOOD )
Buy a $500 house in Detroit. Check.
Sink $200,000 into it for repairs. Check.
Be taxed out of existence by the greedy politicians that are controlled by the teacher’s and public service unions. Check.
What could possibly go wrong?
Scouts Out! Cavalry Ho!
There...politically correct enough for you?
Scouts Out! Cavalry Ho!
for later read
Firewood?....
That’s a remarkably timid comment from someone who finishes his comments with, “Scouts Out! Cavalry Ho!”
Well, some sensitive soul on the thread must've gotten upset by my previous reply, and it got yanked. Therefore I must temper what I say so as not to offend whichever linguini-spined wimp out there was offended by the truth as I see it. Trust me...it wasn't "timid".
Scouts Out! Cavalry Ho!
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