Mitch Albom, Eminem, and the Case for Detroit

But we will be back for the Tigers and back for Michigan and--might as well admit it--we will be back for the Lions come September, as red-faced as they make us, as pathetic as 0-16 is. 

And maybe you ask why? Maybe you ask, as I get asked all the time, "Why do you stay there? Why don't you leave?"

Maybe because we like it here. Maybe because this is what we know: snow and concrete underfoot, hardhats, soul music, lakes, hockey sticks. Maybe because we  don't see just the burned-out houses; we also see the Fox Theater, the Detroit Institute of Arts, the Whitney Restaurant, the riverfront that looks out to Canada. Maybe because we still have seniors who call the auto giant "Ford's", like a shop that was owned by a real human being. Maybe because some of us subscribe to Pastor Covington's words, "We are somebody because God loves us," no matter how cold the night or hard the mattress.

~Mitch Albom, "And Yet...", Sports Illustrated, January 12, 2009

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment

You own it, you better never let it go

You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow

This opportunity comes once in a lifetime...

~Eminem, "Lose Yourself"

And to the rest of the world

God gave you the shoes to fit you

So put 'em on and wear them

Be yourself, man

Be proud of who you are 

And even if it sounds corny

Don't ever let anyone tell you you ain't beautiful"

~Eminem, "Beautiful"

 

***

I love it when learning connects. 

A few months ago, I watched Gran Torino, the Clint Eastwood film about a conservative (and bitter), old man who wasn't as racist as his facade suggested but was bold enough to lose his life to save his neighbors. The story was filmed in and perhaps epitomizes Detroit, Michigan, one of our nation's long enigmas. 

A few weeks ago, I watched the 1999 film, For Love of the Game, which I hadn't seen since I watched it in the theater with my parents. The movie is based on the Michael Shaara novel about an aging star pitcher (for the Detroit Tigers in the movie) named Billy Chapel, who had never--until now--allowed the love of his life (Jane in the movie, Carol in the book) to be first priority. I remember being a bit turned off the first time I watched it, but I enjoyed it more this time, and the novel has now made its way into the pile of "books to read." 

Then, a few days ago, I learned that TFA had a Detroit Corps between 2002 and 2004 that disbanded because--at least in part--corps member jobs were getting cut from the school system. Detroit is the only corps that has disbanded in TFA's nineteen-year history. 

Today's plan of procrastinating lesson plans was a welcomed nap and some reading. I read a May 5 article called "Welcome to Crime City" in the Folio Weekly by Wes Denham, which explored Jax but from an angle that Detroit is quite familiar: crime and punishment. My recent choice of residence has familiarized myself with crime on a massive scale; indeed, my own older brother was robbed within months of moving here, and my students almost all have a close friend or relative who's in jail. I also know one of Detroit's other dilemmas, the effects of Globalization on the auto industry because I went to school in Anderson, Indiana, whose own city has been "dying" with similar symptoms if on an obviously smaller scale, although large enough to be the focus of more than one New York Times articles in the past few years. 

After reading the Folio piece, I picked up January 12's edition of Sports Illustrated, which I had been hanging on to check out Mitch Albom's piece, And Yet..., which chronicles the ups and downs of the city that has become his. I am drawn to Albom--a sports journalist, playwright, and novelist--because of his competence in a variety of areas and for his rare introspectiveness in a world that so often produces rank-and-file, numb people who know a lot about one thing in order to earn a paycheck. Tuesdays with Morrie--even if explicitly sentimental--is, to this day, one of my favorite nonfiction books. Sure, he has that whole "reporting something that didn't happen" blotch on his record, but may we who are without sin cast the first stone. 

Albom's article was particularly thought-provoking and compelling, making the case for hope and grace--through the lens of the city's sports teams--in a city that has become known for crime, economic failure, political corruption, and a failing school system. He poignantly tells of a time in 1990 when he got the star of each respective professional team--Barry Sanders (Lions), Joe Dumars (Pistons),  Cecil Fielder (Tigers), and Steve Yzerman (Red Wings)--together for a humble but slightly awkward evening out. He claims that humility is one of the city's redeeming qualities; after all, he asks, could you imagine trying to convene Kobe Bryant, Manny Ramirez, and a couple others from Los Angeles out for an evening together? 

My own experiences with Detroit are minimal but meaningful. I am, after all, a midwesterner who feels at least a bit of solidarity with such a blue collar place. Shortly after my freshmen year of college, I drove with a crew of friends and family to Windsor, Canada, just across the water from Detroit, and a traditional party place for 19-year olds. Our mission was sincerely more innocent; we were dropping off one of my sister's friends after both of their Culver graduations. Nevertheless, it was my first (and only, to date) experience "out of the country," even if it must come with the asterisk of being in Windsor. Since that first "drive-through," I've returned to Detroit twice for Tigers' games and twice to nearby (to the west) Ann Arbor (where my Culver roommate went to school) for Wolverine football and hockey games, respectively. 

***

And so, you're saying, "Okay, Chris, I'm with you so far, but where does Eminem fit into all this?!! Sure, he's from Detroit, but--" 

Patience, patience. 

So I was wandering through a new Jacksonville Public Library--always a bad idea for me--when I saw it: The Way I Am, a red picture book-looking autobiography(ish) by Eminem (or Marshall Mathers III if you prefer real names). I couldn't resist; I checked it out and tore through it. Some books immortalize the author (F. Scott Fitzgerald comes to mind), but Eminem's book humanized him. He wrote about growing up in Detroit, he wrote about "making it in rap," he wrote about writing songs, dealing with the media, and he wrote about being a dad. It was fascinating, and he earned more respect from me than he previously had, even if I still distain his every-other-word usage of "f**k" and "f***ing." (It does seem to be his favorite adjective, and he also has an unusual obsession with the middle finger).  

My own thoughts and experiences involving Eminem are a bit scattered, and, at times, dismissive. My recent fascination, though, isn't discriminatory: I am interested in what people believe and hope for and how that relates to how they live their life. As for Eminem, I have to respect the work it must take to get to the "top of the game," even if one's "game" is mainstream rap. His in-and-out nature of the spotlight also intrigues me. I saw 8 Mile and found it entertaining but less than profound, though the battle scenes admittedly gave me a rush of adrenaline. 

I recall dating a girl I cared quite a bit for my senior year in high school, and being so disturbed that she liked Eminem, one who degrades women and even raps about raping them. Anyone who knows me would probably not be too surprised to learn that it became a bigger issue than it probably needed to--"making a mountain out of a mole hill" as my mom used to say--and a point of conflict we often returned to. 

Ironically, at pretty much the same time, Eminem's "Lose Yourself" (quoted and linked above) was probably the biggest staple in my basketball team's locker room, and I remember being really drawn to it. 

I also remember being intrigued by another white rapper, a "christian rapper" even, called KJ-52, who wrote a couple songs to/for Eminem. The second verse of "Dear Slim" goes like this:

Dear Slim I never wrote you or been calling
This is my 2nd letter cause see son I gots a real problem
It's that to you that I'm always catching these comparisons
And after shows I got these people coming up to me saying
You sound like Slim Shady son you sound like Eminem
And I be like now really man do I gots to go through this again
See I used to get mad and sick of people saying that
Till at this one show this one day I met this one cat
He told me how he used to listen to you but now listens to me
Had your LP but threw it out and bought my CD
I'm like "For real?" he's like "Yeah," said my music made a difference
It got him away from all your words and images
Gotta mention this now what about the effects you have on kids?
You ever stop to think about the millions you influence
Or is it just irrelevant is it a true life you telling it
Or just a way for some record companies selling it
The only thing we's got in common is our melanin
Or a lack of it but anyway now this is what I'm saying
Its for you that I'm on my knees now daily praying
Praying that God opens your eyes now to what I'm relaying
Now I'm praying that it's your heart that will soon be changing
Praying one day that you'll be calling upon his name and
But anyway I'm signing off now don't keep me waiting
This is KJ another cat just trying to make it

Now, KJ-52 is not the talent that Eminem is, but I remember admiring KJ's efforts, although I don't know if Eminem ever heard it or how he reacted. What KJ does get right that Eminem has gotten so consistently wrong is the importance of words, the affect that they have on people. Eminem addresses that in his book, and seems to be coming to grips with the reality--whether he likes it or not--that people pay attention to what he says, and that they take it seriously. 

Eminem makes the case--and I do believe him, maybe out of hope--that he entered the game a bit naive. He didn't realize how much people would listen to him, how much his words would become headlines. For him, "f***ing" is just a generic adjective, and "fa**ot" just a noun. The reason I believe him is that in his story I see so many of my students: inner city kids, trying to be tough enough and avoid getting their asses kicked, and moving from school to school, hoping to get passed on to the next grade. Words and actions have little meaning; they are simply the expression of an impulse in that moment. Any reflection or analysis, of course, reveals all sorts of problems with that way of living, and I certainly hope Eminem has learned that, and for that reason and his fatherhood, he seems to have taken a little bit of a step back. He also believably claims that in many interviews he'll be on his best bevavior for an hour then blurt out one ridiculous thing and it would become the headline (rings true with the media I know). 

Though the book could certainly be read and interpreted as an apologist's attempt at justifying poor choices--a PR strategy to repair what's been broken--I think there is much hope for redemption in the book. He wrote about the importance of his gig with Elton John to repair some of his image in regards to homosexuals. He wrote with affection about his great-aunt Edna and Uncle Charles, who, to some degree, seemed to be his saving graces. He wrote about the tragic suicides of two of his uncles. He also wrote a lot about being a father: 

I want my girls to have a place where they belong and feel protected. That's why I say my biggest accomplishment is being a father and why I stepped back from the rap game for a minute. You can't just show up once in a while and call yourself Dad.

 

And:

I try to teach my girls to be responsible and accountable. Their world isn't just a free-for-all. They've got things they have to do around the house. When get they older, they'll have to get jobs and learn about what it means to earn. The safety net will of course be there--I'll always support them--but I want to support them going out and going things for themselves, too. Going for it. They're good kids, and I'm not saying that because they're mine. Kids will be kids, and, yea, mine misbehave and get punished once in a while. They keep me grounded. For real. And they make me laugh so hard. 

Lastly, but not least--to bring this rambling post full circle--Eminem writes about Detroit, where he grew up and where he still calls home. He seems to love the place, and he is committed to it, which is honorable, in my opinion. It was his own story in his own home city that inaugurated his acting side-career, and--at least according to him--it was his insistence that the film be shot in Detroit ("It I can help in any way to create jobs there, I'm all for it."), and it was he who came up with the name for the film. 

Eminem doesn't have to live in Detroit; God knows he could be in New York or Miami or Los Angeles or Atlanta or fill-in-the-blank with any other trendy city. 

Indeed, Detroit is poor in jobs, education, safe neighborhoods, and revenue, but it is rich in history, culture, sports, and people. It is those assets and the unexplainable "something" about Detroit that make Mitch Albom and Eminem--vastly different people--call the same place home. 

Because, at the end of the day, Detroit, like anywhere, is "home" to many people--is that not why any place is worth caring about, supporting, preserving, and improving?