Blackhumouristpress's Blog

January 29, 2013

40 Square Miles and a Mule or Bring the Amish to Detroit

Picture picking up the city of Miami with South Beach, Bayside and its art deco buildings that lazily never change and placing it within the city limits of Detroit’s vacant land.  You would still have space to place the island of Manhattan and San Francisco squarely within the city limits of Detroit too but then again, why would anyone want to do such a thing to vibrant, thriving cities?

City planners had a brainstorm; find the natives who once inhabited the land prior to the French explorers and allow them to open more casinos.  It seemed like a good idea but it came up against a lot of opposition from the established casinos that already existed in downtown Detroit.  One person on the panel to find ways of selling and using vacant land presented an off the cuff, spontaneous solution that found roots quickly.  This is what was said among several men and a bottle of Scotch.

“Forty motherfucking square miles and ain’t nobody want shit to do with it…  What we should do is sell it to farmers and give em vouchers to buy horses or mules or whatever the fuck they need to plow shit…  Then these people set up farmer’s markets and sell vegetables to people within the city.  Ain’t no Arabs selling no damn broccoli at party stores…  They ain’t no other way we going to git somebody to buy up these vacant lots.”

As crazy as the idea sounded, plans were put into motion to find Amish communities and sell them cheap land, provide areas to sell their products and give them vouchers to buy horses or mules to help till the land.  As the saying goes; everything sells eventually.

Cadillac Adams had been in and out of prison for years for small time dealing, theft and robbery.  At the age of twenty-seven, Cadillac found himself back in his grandmother’s home, which was one of two homes that remained on a street that once had thirty homes.  Cadillac learned how to play a trumpet in jail as part of a program to give inmates positive hobbies.  Cadillac’s former cellmate was good at painting and was selling his paintings on Monroe, only feet away from where Cadillac played the themes from the Flintstones, The Munsters and Sammy Davis Jr.’s song called the Candy Man in rotation for pocket change from drunken white patrons of Greek restaurants and the casinos.  Cadillac was willing to give lawful means of trying to earn money without a job.

One warm spring morning, Cadillac saw a white man in a field that had once been two city blocks, he had a mule pulling some strange device that was helping to seed soil.  Cadillac approached the unique looking old white man with a long beard.

“Eh man…  Y’all some hard working folks.  I see y’all out here from sun up til sun down.  People round here cain’t quite figure you people out.  It’s cool and all but look like some Little House on the Prairie shit to us.  We ain’t never seen no farmers and ain’t never seen no corn coming up out the ground…  It’s cool.  So I don’t mean to stop a hard workingman but I come to aks you if there is anything…  Anything at all that you might need help with where I could make some money and be of some assistance to y’all.  I will be on time and never take no time off.  I know when it come to working, you people ain’t playin.”

Wilhelm hired Cadillac to do all sorts of things like feeding animals on farm and cleaning shit.  It might appear like more exploitation of blacks without a skill but it wasn’t.  Cadillac earned more money than he made blowing a trumpet and he was in no danger of being arrested for making money by unlawful means.

Wilhelm’s daughter returned from something called Rumspringa where she went into the world to experience things outside of their Amish community.  Edith went to Toronto to drink, smoke, take drugs, have sex and wear jeans.  Edith bounced around from guy to guy and then she decided to return to her wholesome, quiet, tight-knit community in northwest Detroit.

Edith came home to find a genuine black man working out in her father’s field with his shirt off.  The wiry man had tight muscles and his dark skin seemed to shine with the sweat that ran down his chest.  Edith was drawn to Cadillac immediately. Edith had been with a plethora of white guys, an Asian guy with a racing Honda and an Indian guy with an English accent who promised to take Edith to London the night they met.  The Brit disappeared promptly the next day.  Edith decided to return home to Detroit and join the Amish church, find a husband and get married.  Cadillac is not what the Amish had envisioned.

The Amish community was very clannish, community orientated and opposed too much in the way of change.  The idea of allowing an outsider into the fold was difficult but allowing a son of those enslaved Africans to marry and cross breed with a Germanic child of god, took who needed to approve the idea to do some deep soul searching.  Was it wrong for races to mix?  Could this black man who was immersed in some of the worst things the English world had to offer, give up fried foods, malt liquor, cars, flashy clothes, Direct TV and live a humble and rudimentary life?  Most had argued that from what they knew of the environs of Detroit, the dramatic life change would not be possible.  The need to sneak off and see other women, plant their seed, drink and gamble, would be too overwhelming and then they would have to deal with a broken family within the Amish community.  One man who remained optimistic and open minded, reasoned that if the president of the United States could marry one woman and remain with her, it would be possible for Cadillac to stay with Edith.  The Amish decided to gamble on Cadillac.

If you ever want to buy some vegetables and hand made chairs, there is a black dude who sits on the site of a former Amoco gas station with his blue-eyed daughter with blondish cork screw curls and light caramel skin and sells his products.  He is one to marvel at and is a true curiosity.  What astounds people most about the bearded black man in overalls is that he can speak their language.

“Number one killer of brothas is heart disease.  You want you some corn and lettuce?  You need vitamins and vegetables in your diet, brotha.  This stuff much better foh you than a spicy pickle in a plastic bag, floating round in who knows what.    This stuff here was grown right here in god’s country; Detroit, Michigan.”

January 2, 2013

Yelping Life

Filed under: humor,obama,Short Story,Uncategorized — blackhumouristpress @ 6:55 am
Tags: , , , ,

As I look around and see that everyone believes that they are a credible critic on everything from restaurants to technicians that did miserable work at doing laser work to crotches, I believe I can adequately guide people through life.  Hiding behind a computer without a voice or a face, makes being bold with my opinions all the more easier.  Such is Yelp.

Youth- not much you can do here.  You’re at the mercy of those who brung you.  I was a product of a gun crazed Vietnam Veteran and a free loving Hippy.  I don’t own a gun but feel as though I have a gun to my head anytime I feel compelled to utter the phrase, “I love you”.  The word “love” was tossed around like a floozy in a flophouse.  From one parent I heard that love is all that is needed and from the other a gun will straighten out the Commie loving, tree, owl and whale hugging, hairy legged, bra and flag burning, anti-establishment, anti-Christ, latent homosexuals who don’t know that they live in the best goddamn country this world has ever known and as long as the blacks, browns and yellows understand their place and don’t try to rock the boat, nobody gets hurt.  Amen…  I love you.

Adolescence- mix a disdain for parents, with a disdain for authority, a lack of consistency, a dash of no hope and the urge to have sex ever fifteen seconds.  High school guidance counselors are always available for those who are on track to score high on the SAT, on student council and yearbook committee.  Those that might drop out or drop under should really find a skill like becoming a repo man, tow truck driver, bouncer or so on.  Your guidance counselor is also the varsity football coach.  Unless you are going out for the team or are a cheerleader, there is very little to discuss.  He could tell you that as an average sized, white child with average athletic ability, you need to spend three to four hours a day kicking a football through a giant tuning fork in a large field.  That large tuning fork could be the key to your success.  You could very well earn a great living at the most cherished thing in Americana until you are in your early forties if you develop into one who can put three points on the board consistently as a field goal kicker.  Your guidance counselor wanted to be a doctor and then settled to be a pharmacist and when he drank too much and had a poor GPA, decided to go into education; to help mold and form the youth into tomorrow’s society.  Or to just earn a paycheck.

Adulthood- For men, Adulthood does not truly begin until the age of thirty and if you are living in your mother’s basement, living off the tit and making college a fifteen-year plan, adulthood begins for you at about thirty-five.  For women it generally begins when binge drinking and random acts of fucking take a back seat to finding a suitable mate to replicate your species with, create a nest and visit Ikea with on weekends.  Like the current work environment, most Americans stay at a job five years or less and then upgrade.  Americans now have starter marriages and are more focused on having a wedding than a marriage.  Men soon learn that a female changes drastically upon becoming a mother and that for the most part; they have fulfilled their biological duty by planting a seed.  Joining groups of other males to detract from the mundane suburban hell treadmill of matrimony, paternity, and monogamy with alcohol and sports, helps to keep hope and sanity on the horizon.  Disenchanted wives and mothers visit children’s museums with other disenchanted women and form play dates and plan women’s nights out in order to vent about the woefully poor job the male species is doing to help maintain a household.  They fawn and flirt with the marginally functional male server who is hot and is juggling four girlfriends and laughs at the thought of banging one of the soccer mom in her minivan after closing with the stick figure sticker silhouettes of the entire family holding hands on the back window of Chrysler.  Oh um…  The mister might be receiving fellatio in the back seat of his Volvo station wagon with a 26.2 sticker and an Obama “Hope” sticker across town.  Hope we all find our way despite it all.

Elderly- The AARP card, discounts to the buffet, free coffee at Mc Donald’s while you’re put out to pasture at the age of fifty for a younger more efficient and pliable model.  Heart disease, hypertension, poor circulation, diabetes and obesity.  Who had time to exercise during the fifty years of work?  Who had time to eat correctly?  Who had time to really take the time to understand and guide their kids during formative years?  Who had the desire to connect to a mate at the end of the day when the cloud of work and debt hung like an ominous storm cloud ready to decimate at a moment’s notice?  B-52, AK-47, M-16, C-3PO, H1N1…  Bingo!

So in conclusion, I give life 1 and ½ stars.  Like everyone else, I blame everything out of my control on the result of life.  With that in mind, I would not trade my life for yours.  I see you in lines at the Starbucks or on the train and thank god or luck of the draw that I am who I am.

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