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Have You Seen My Childhood? No, I’m not going to pretend like the allegations didn’t exist. His behavior was freaky, his nose virtually shaved completely off, and his speaking voice…well, he sounded manlier when he was eleven years old talking to Dick Clark. Duly noted. If you’re like me, you’ve almost separated the two Michaels in your mind: The magnificent talent who single-handedly shaped an entire generation of pop culture, and the other one. I’m choosing to honor the former. After all, it was Dancing Machine Michael I can thank for inducing the drop of my jaw at the wonderment of his body control and introducing the world to popping and, yes, locking. It was the Billie Jean Michael who united the family in jovial laminate-floor sliding in an attempt to duplicate his signature move. Didn’t you? It was Thriller Michael who inspired my sister, Christa, and I to perfect his choreography well enough to insist John Landis must have accidentally skipped over us when casting the zombie sequence. My stories aren’t unlike yours, but if you’re one of the many observers perseverating on 1993-present Michael, you probably just don’t understand. To you, I say, “You ain’t bad, man, you ain’t nuthin’!” When I was a kid, there were musical artists, movie stars, famous athletes, and then there was Michael Jackson. He transcended color, musical taste, and age and proved to be larger than life time and time again. He was a child star, but his stratospheric rise in the 80’s seemed like perfect timing. The short film that was to become Thriller was such a simple concept, expertly crafted and accessible to everyone from grannies to grade-schoolers. If it had been released today, I’m afraid it would be seen as corny, too simple, and irrelevant. Times change, people change, perceptions change. I can’t help but wonder what celebrity out there right this very minute would be able to command a simulcasting of their latest project during Prime-time television? Who could unite the biggest names and faces from American pop culture in the name of charity? Who is as big a star as Michael Jackson was? The answer: no one. Fans and detractors alike simply must agree on that fact. Families in peril united for his music. The lonely found a voice. The discontent found a distraction. The dreamers found inspiration. So, as I say goodbye, I find that I’m directing my condolences to my childhood and MY Michael Jackson. There will never be anyone else like him, and for that I’m glad. Check out my very favorite MJ dance footage….HE is the real Dancing Machine! (The 2 minute mark is where the magic happens!) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sRfqvwgimU 
I think it’s safe to say, we Metro-Detroiters are proud people. We get a certain sense of self-satisfaction by paying our bills on time and making ends meet all on our own. We don’t look for handouts and think long and hard about taking one, even if the help is greatly needed. That is why I’m a little confused by the announcement of Belle Isle becoming ABC’s newest backdrop for…not a movie…nope, not even a short film….Belle Isle will set the scene for a (sigh) reality show. A reality show…called Crash Course…about testing couples’ driving skills…groan. Now, look, I understand we’re all excited at the prospect of a new film industry pitching it’s tent right here in Michigan. Why, just the thought of big names like DeNiro and Walken are enough to send most of us pop culture buffs into a tizzy. Yeah, Kilmer, Eastwood, Orlando, Cortese, big names like that. What? The last two don’t sound familiar? Those are the names of the two Q-listers ABC has chosen to host this most cerebral of summer replacement hits. You may remember Dan Cortese from MTV circa 1995, and Orlando Jones from Mad TV back in the day…or not. C’mon Detroit, we’ve got a good thing goin’ here, do we have to say yes to the prom date just because we’re asked? Almost as surprising as the willingness of the city to allow the use of our beloved Isle to promote the mush-ification of brain matter everywhere, is the dollar amount being paid to the city: $1,500 bucks a day for 30 days starting June 30. Now, I’m no math whiz, but, well, that’s it? $45,000 for filming during our Belle Isle busy season where visitors will inevitably be restricted from filming areas? C’mon, we only want to set up shop with a cooler of Faygo and a coupla sammies, but instead we will probably be subjected to some sniveling ABC page instructing us to, “Move it along, folks. Mr. Cortese is filming his pyrotechnic go-kart scene now.” I guess I’m just one of those gluttons for rebuilding Detroit’s rep on my terms. If our tax incentives and talents are good enough to film Oscar nominated films here, then golly, can we at least hold out for a movie-of-the-week or even an SVU here and there? I suppose many would suggest we just say thank you and feel honored to have even been thought of, but I can’t help but see a little green flag waving in my head: Ready…Set…Lame. BOCCE BALL!
The assumed indulgence of Father’s Day food and fare was alive and well at the McAllister household yesterday, but an unexpected past time also made a welcomed appearance: Bocce Ball! Being a first-generation American from my father’s Italian side, this backyard sport showed up a few times over the years. Be it at Grandpa’s house or at a BBQ for the Carlomusto clan in our very own neighborhood, I’d always heard about the spirited game, but myself had never played! I was always too busy with the Slip ‘n Slide or attempting to conquer a twin-pop without sacrificing half to the lawn gods. Leave it to Bill do introduce yet another new favorite I never knew I had…add that to the list next to Indian food and Ricky Gervais. For those unaware, Bocce Ball is a simple little sport consisting of two teams of 2, 4 balls each, and a jack ball. One player tosses the jack ball down the “court” (in our case, 25 feet of uninterrupted lawn space) and the players subsequently toss their team balls trying to aim for that very jack ball. A series of startegic bumps and knocks ensue in anticipation of the first team reaching the magic number of 11 (1 point for each ball closest to the jack without the opposite team’s balls in the direct vacinity) Sound confusing? IT’S NOT…think curling…outside…on the grass. My attention now turns to where I can continue my new favorite obsession. Ever hear of Palazzo di Bocce in Orion Township? That’s right, an entire free standing oasis dedicated to the play of this most relaxing yet inevitably energized game. Palazzo di Bocce encourages the joining of leagues or starting your own team, but they also welcome parties, business meetings, and events! What luck! Any game where you can still play with a Vernors in your hand is the sport worth trying to me! For those of you who have grown up with Bocce Ball and wonder how one could be so new to the game, my answer is this: some folks need a little more time to discover things than others…I hear there’s this new thing called microwave popcorn…sounds crazy, but maybe I’ll give that a try, too. http://www.palazzodibocce.com/index.html Father’s Day
Father’s Day approaches and I can’t help but connect the current demolition of Tiger Stadium to the less acknowledged parental holiday. Let’s face it, Mother’s Day always gets more hype. When was the last time you and the sibs got together for a Father’s Day buffet? Patriarchal snubbing aside, Tiger Stadium is quickly disappearing. At the time of this post, the third base line is “lonngg gone”! They expect the entire stadium to be leveled by the end of the month. It’s definitely time. The last game was played on September 27th, 1999, most stadiums don’t make it this long without being torn down. I remember my first time (doesn’t everybody). August 6th, 1970, Al Kaline Day. Mel Torme sang “Thanks For The Memories” and old Mel “Toupee” couldn’t have been more prophetic as I have commited so much of that day to memory!…The Tigers lost 4-3 to the Minnesota Twins but I will never forget walking into that stadium. My brother, my mom and my dad walked through the corridor and I thought the smell of stale beer and peanuts was the greatest stench ever created. We turned into section 123 and it was as if we were ascending into heaven. There before me was a slowly revealed, early afternoon, blue August sky followed by the greenest grass God ever created! Follow that with an army of green seats and you understand why green is the color of envy because you wanted to live there for the rest of your life! The usher then led us to our seats eight rows behind home plate and I settled in for the greatest afternoon of my seven year-old life. 22 years and 200 some-odd games seen at Tiger Stadium later, it is Father’s Day 1992. The only thing Dad wanted to do was go to a Tiger’s game and who were we to say no. It is the only time our entire family went to a game together. Me, Mom, Dad, brother and both sisters, just the six of us. Couldn’t tell you the score, didn’t care. We gorged ourselves on Ball Park Franks, peanuts and Pepsi. Dad made his usual corny jokes, Mom wanted us to stop throwing peanuts at each other and all we did was try to make each other laugh for nine innings. We simply moved the “us” show to a new location. It is my favorite Father’s Day to date, my Dad’s as well. We’ve had our disagreements over the years but we’ve always been able to talk about baseball. Mom passed away three years ago and Dad hasn’t been the same since. Tiger Stadium will also soon be gone. So, this Father’s Day we’ll all head over to Dad’s, we’ll barbeque and watch the U.S. Open, that’s all he wants to do, heck we might even turn on the Tiger’s game! What are you waiting for…go call your dad! Something to Look Forward to…
Upon perusing today’s top headlines, it’s tough not to notice the pervasive doom and gloom feeling. Unemployment tops 6.7 million, our political leaders continue to embarrass themselves and us, and once again, Detroit makes national headlines for it’s conspicuous absence of grocery stores and retail outlets within the city limits…whew, and that’s only a few! Today, I’m choosing to write about a cool event that will helpfully give our minds a well deserved vacation from all of this nonsense. The Detroit River Days can only be described as a hodge-podge of family friendly activities as well as a collection of great (well, mostly great…hmm…) local bands coupled with a few of our favorite national artists from days gone by! Yeah, that oughta do it! The best part? FREE! Now there’s a word you don’t hear too often anymore (unless it’s describing what Councilwoman JoAnn Watson assumed her property taxes were). It’s always easy for Metro Detroiters to boost the Motown economy by taking in a ball game, or popping into the Science Center for the Star Trek exhibit, but why not get to know the city one-on-one? The River Walk is a fantastic place to get in touch with what really makes the city tick…you’ve got the gentle flow of the river, power walkers, kiddies on the carousel, an ice cream stand, always a caricature artist or two, and this weekend: FREE MUSIC AND EVENTS! There was a minor setback when GM pulled funding for the festival this year, and a few cuts had to be made, but you wouldn’t know it by the lineup scheduled! Yeah, I know, The Gin Blossoms were rockin’ it when I was still wearing Hypercolor shirts, but it’s FREE people (are you detecting a pattern here?). If it’s the little ones you’re concerned with, trust me, they’ve thought of everything! There will be a display of tall ships (think Jack Sparrow!), a Kid Zone chock full of games, music, and crafts, and even a parade of lights showcasing local boater’s prized possessions. So if you’re looking for a little something different this weekend, be sure to carve an hour or two into your day and head on over to the River Days at the Detroit Riverfront, you won’t be disappointed (and neither will your pocket book)! Cat Got Your Tongue, Monica? The sky is blue, a Hot Pocket and Ramen noodles are perfect for lunch on a chilly day, and Monica Conyers is bad for Detroit…no news here. Under the scrutinous eye of the public, however, Conyers never seemed to care much about the latter. She didn’t care about what people thought or what they had heard spewed angrily from her mouth. Oh, how she loved to compare public figures to beloved, green CGI ogres. My, how she reveled in her astute observations of those requiring the aid of hearing devices and possible oncology care. A true poster child for free speech, Monica always had something on her mind and somehow a forum to make it known. After all, it’s just us. Lil’ ol’ Detroit: the folks that have known her for a while now, who don’t question too much, who have blindly voted her and her name into power positions for years. She’s the star of our local, long-running sitcom “That’s Just Monica”, where she plays the wacky neighbor who just never seems to get it right. She knows just how much she could say and just how much she can get away with. Until now. Imagine her chagrin when it’s the big dogs who wanna have a little chit-chat. The Feds are familiar with our cast of characters, but have no interest in the hilarity and bumbling that ensues on a daily basis. They want answers, and, by all accounts, are intent on getting them. Why, I can almost hear her internal dialogue now. “You mean, they don’t care who my husband is? You mean, they’re actually checking my books, my numbers, my spending, and my decisions? There are people out there who will not only discover some of the poor behavior I’ve managed to blow past my constituents, but hold me accountable?! This is Detroit, don’t they know that? They want to expose years of uninterrupted corruption is favor of…gulp…truth, honesty, and service to the thousands who have put the fate of their city in my hands? THE NERVE!” Y’know, I’m trying to be a more positive person, but I can’t help but feel the anticipation of Monica finally being laid to political rest. I’m actually…happy…yes, happy she has nothing to say. When reporters ask for details on the investigation and rumored plea deal, she simply replies that she can’t talk about it. Can’t talk about it! Ha ha ha! Could this finally be it? The proverbial sock to stuff that uninformed, abusive mouth of hers? Did the long arm of, not only the law, but logic, morality, and accountability finally reach out to tap our corrupted council member on the shoulder? Golly, I hope so. And for all of our sakes, if she’s found guilty of evil doings, I hope it’s not a mere tap, but a full-fledged spanking. Our First Video!
Throughout this cyber-journey, we will be posting videos of our favorite spots in and around Detroit. Be it restaurants, businesses, or community events, there’s so much to love around Detroit, we simply MUST document a few! Our first video comes from the Ann Arbor Music Center - a great place to learn and polish your skills as a musician! Loooooong before Jack Black made it cool, the AAMC was crankin’ out the tunes with its original rock band school! Enjoy! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=biRFl6j_Aes Get in Touch with Your Inner Michigander at Kensington!
To many out of state folk, we here in Michigan are a bunch of beaver-skin cap wearin’, beef jerky chewin’, nature boys and girls. I, for one, embrace that notion! As the years pass, my pride level blossoms at the bounty of natural offerings that abound. I must admit, Twelve Oaks Mall is as close as I get to nature some days (that doggone Bath&Body Works ropes me in every time!). But, when I really want to ingest the fruits of Mother Nature, I run down a quick internal list of my favorite outdoor spots: past and present. Sentimentally speaking, my choice is always Belle Isle. Dad used to pack a cooler full of fresh nectarines, Rock n’ Rye, and a myriad of colorful candies from the Brach’s bulk bins, and haul our brood across the bridge to the shore line. Back then, the aquarium was the star of the show and our adventures in fountain coin-tossing would take us all the way to dusk. Time and budget cuts have been cruel to the wonderment of Belle Isle I remember from my childhood, and my visits are fewer and fewer. Fortunately, two and a half million folks yearly can’t be wrong about my new, second place natural playground: Kensington Metropark. Not only is this Metropark a fantastic way to stretch your legs and breathe deeply all the freshness Milford has to offer, but it’s a veritable playground for any nature lover. Perhaps kayaking is your thing…well, how about paddling the crystal waters of Kent Lake while smelling the Kingsford and sizzling ‘dogs on a nearby grill? Bill and I are particular fans of the paddleboating…we seem to have our best ideas (the idea for this site for one!) while enjoying the gentle lapping of the water on the paddles. The miles and miles of nature trails are always a great way to burn off some of those extra calories indulged upon at lunch time, too! If ever there were a perfect place to bring someone you love to show them exactly what Michigan is about, I can’t think of a better place than Kensington. From beaches to an 18 hole golf course, this place has it all. A seasonal pass for $20 is WELL worth the investment and the drive time! I implore all of our readers to pick a day - a bright, sunny, day and remember a few of the things Metro Detroit gets right! http://www.metroparks.com/parks/pk_kensington.php Restaurant Review: Maria’s of Ferndale Note to anyone attempting to open or reopen a business in the current Michigan economic climate: You better make damn sure ALL your ducks are in a row. Maria’s Front Room (215 W. 9 Mile Rd.) was one of those Italian restaurants you’d frequent fully expecting to see Don Corleone in the corner enjoying a nice Chicken Piccata. Red and white checkered table cloths, wooden accents, the whole bit. They went ahead and closed, reasons unknown, only to reopen a year later, under new ownership, a stark contrast in decor. The look you’d expect an eatery with the name Maria’s to hang onto has been replaced with an updated color palate and airier dining room. I do miss the “stay awhile” ambiance of the old Maria’s, but I also enjoy a few of the newer, smaller touches like the sleek new music hub behind the cashier and more contemporary bar area. While I won’t say the ambiance was the deal breaker, I will allude to the fact that there is one. Our waitress was prompt and we had a delicious loaf of salty (in a good way), cheesy, warm bread on our table before we could say “Chianti”. My side Caeser came sans croutons - a crime worthy of explanation, but ignored as I’m not fan of the crunchy little buggers anyway. I ordered the Spaghetti Puttanesca and relished every little burst of briny goodness from the olives and capers while anticipating the little hot Italian peppers saying hello every second or third bite! The sauce staked it’s claim as an active member of the dish without being overbearing, it’s viscosity perfection. I would order the dish again without question. Bill tried the Pasta Diablo expecting a spicy melange and was disappointed when a sauce-less bore-fest was served. When a side of marinara was requested in an attempt to lubricate the naked noodles, we got to watch it sit in the cute little peek-a-boo window next to the kitchen while our waitress took 5 orders, the manager in the tangerine shirt ambled about aimlessly, and the other two waitresses checked their cell phones. The Diablo was, however salvaged whence the ramekin arrived. Again, the food was not the deal breaker, but I think you see where I’m going. I failed to mention that the waitress had to be tackled flagged down just to get that side of marinara. Her section was easily the size of Montana and she was much too busy to tend to our little two-top needs. I watched in disgust as the man obviously in charge (tangerine shirt) oversaw her frenetic salad making and order taking while enjoying a relaxing seat at the bar. The waitstaff and water girl were just watching as she ran herself silly. Tangerine finally helped by making a drink for her large table, only to set it down for HER to take over 3 feet away even though she was right in the middle of salad prep! I still don’t understand what prevented him from meandering on over and plopping it down his damn self. Sheesh! If that wasn’t irksome enough, we finished our meal and were surrounded by our dirty dishes on our tiny little table, so we sat and waited for our plates to be cleared…and sat…and sat…and sat. Why had no one decided to ask us how our meal was, offer dessert, clear dishes, or bring the check? Come one people, if Big Boy can get it right, you can too! Tangerine must have noticed I wasn’t pleased so he dum-dee-dummed his way over to ask if everything was okay. When told we were just waiting for our dishes to be cleared, he said, “Okay.” and WALKED AWAY, DIRTY DISHES STILL ON OUR TABLE! What was so pressing that he couldn’t clear our plates while our poor waitress was tending to her Montanian section? That’s right, a seat at the bar to check his cell phone. Maria, we love your food, but if you expect us to pay $60 (including tip) on a dinner for two (with 2 glasses of wine), then you need to make the experience worth the money. As for our waitress, you are a gem, but you either need to delegate, or move to an establishment that knows what it means to work together for the customer. If you need me, I’ll be at Big Boy. DISCLAIMER: Bill likes Maria’s food (as do I) and would go back (I may need to be convinced). We are, however, in agreement that Tangerine must be new to this business and should take a beginner’s course in restaurant management. Do I Have to Make a Red Wings Post?
Seeing as how our beloved site is dubbed “YOUR Detroit”, I suppose a comment or two should do it…no matter how painful. Yes, if you’d like a few X’s and O’s, Detroit got outplayed, plain and simple. Where the cool heads and confidence of our Winged Wheels once prevailed, so now does the youth and speed of the Super Mario Generation Pens. The verile beards lost to the dirt-staches. But, I’m not and X’s and O’s kinda gal. I’m one of the countless Michiganians that directly linked our pathetic economy to…well, our hockey team. All I kept thinking was “We really need this more than Pittsburgh does. We REALLY need this more than Pittsburgh does”. Of all the strife, hardship, and politics plaguing these here fine United States, it’s US that’s fallen the hardest. It’s US that’s drowning at the bottom of the economical trough once lapped enthusiastically by the other 49 horses. It’s not just about F-150s, or public corruption, or the 13% joblessness rate…it’s all of them! We just keep falling and it seems there’s nothing to grab onto (not that we’d let anyone know we’re grabbing anyway…we’re very prideful, we Michiganders.) ONE silver lining, ONE little positive anecdote to finish off a bummer of an inevitable donut shop conversation that could’ve ended with ”well, at least we nabbed The Cup”, was that too much to ask?! All we wanted was something else to talk about, something else to think about - anything to take our minds off of where we are and how low we’ve sunk. I don’t know what’s sillier, that fact that the defending Stanley Cup Champs, whose previous win to their eventual successors was a 5-0 shutout, couldn’t seal the deal, or that the only thing millions of Metro Detroiters prayed to take their mind off their hardships, was 5 guys pushing a little plastic disc around an ice rink with a stick. Something’s gotta give. Throw us a frickin’ bone, here. |
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