by Cathy Resmer
My parents are selling the house I grew up in. I can hardly believe it. We moved in when I was 2 1/2; I lived there until I graduated from high school.
The house is in "Eastpointe" Michigan. I put that in quotes because it was East Detroit when I was growing up. I was in high school in 1992, when the city voted to change its name. Residents decided they'd rather associate themselves with Grosse Pointe. Like anyone could be fooled by that stupid linguistic trick! The Pointes are another freaking universe.
When I was a kid, I couldn't wait to get the hell out of that little suburban house, but now I'm feeling all nostalgic for it. Sigh.
My mom tells me that there are literally hundreds of houses for sale in their neighborhood. The Metro Detroit economy is hurting because of the auto industry's decline, and lots of folks are moving on. All but one of the neighbors I knew growing up have already left.
My parents are headed to North Carolina, to be closer to my mom's family. My sister's down there, too. Can't convince 'em to come to Vermont. They say it's too cold. Also, we have no professional sports teams or casinos, and I think they're puzzled over what they'd do for fun.