Pinot Noir, Sebastiani Style

I talked to a girl named Meredith tonight, and it was the first truly social interaction I've had with a new person since I've moved to Michigan. Granted, I was kind of paying her to talk to me (she was my bartender), but it awoke the churning voice inside me, my growling, empty social stomach.

When I got home, after heavily tipping her for 2 mediocre glasses of wine, I filled the churning hole with smoked turkey and a little white chocolate pudding. While these delectable treats certainly helped abate my longing, I think chewing on the conversation with Meredith is what's really satiated me this evening.

Meredith is a hopeful high school history teacher...hopeful, that is, for a job. She's dying to get out of Michigan-- or, rather, she'll die if she stays. The economy in Michigan is so ruptured and declining so rapidly that I haven't met a single person, student or otherwise, who isn't looking to move away. An NPR program last summer said that you can tell the state of your economy by observing the 20-something crowd. What are they doing? Where are they going with their fresh ideas and skills?

In Michigan's case, they're seeking greener pastures, somewhere they can go that won't drag them back to adolescence, a place that won't stop them before they start. Meredith's teaching degree in History from U of M is useless here...there isn't a school in the state that will hire her, primarily because they can't afford the teachers they already have. While I enjoy having a bartender in my professional field (every bartender should teach in her spare time), Meredith stands as a symbol of the connection I've felt with Detroit for the last couple months.

Detroit is the city that has been sleeping for years. Beneath her leaden lids and comatose visage lie the sprouts of youth and makings of a smaller Chicago. The river, the expanse, the small but vital community of artists, the musical history and vitality, the ants crawling beneath that rusted skin...so much potential. With the right decisions and the right support, Detroit will awaken from the roots and transform into the city that it is meant to be. Soon Detroit will be a destination for people like Meredith, keeping the whole grains and moving the still lifes to new vibrance.

I hope, for myself, the same fate. My soul feels asleep, resting, a bit battered, a bit worn, and in desperate need of waking. With the right decisions, a good measure of patience and perseverance, I feel like I might, could blossom...like a wee bulb in spring, perchance. No promises, shallow hope and thin glimmers of a plan...but last week all I could see is dark and gray. Today, the air up here, be it dark and murky, carries the scent of spring.