Who cares about political affiliations except for those who think the Civil War is still being fought? Actually, that ordeal is and was a total embarrassment; a Country declaring war against itself with winners none. That chapter is thankfully gone, but in its place was
supposed to be born the beginnings of a brand new liberty and freedom. What happened to that freedom? Hard for me to tell and I live on the prairie where the wind whispers free and unemcumbered. It is for this reason, peace of mind, that I am taking a Facebook break. I am a writer, a northern, Republican, Catholic, American writer, and I know what real freedom tastes and feels like and cannot and will not settle for less.
If you are looking for me, this is where I will be; although, I will continue to share with FB but I imagine my posts will be DOA on arrival. Love to my friends and family, and you will be hearing from me.
On the day after my first Chemo treatment for a highly curable form of cancer (Lymphoma) which my Onocologist says he can put in remissission in two months, the news flash came on that Lady Soul, Aretha Franklin, had slipped away and passed into her heavenly home. Although I never had the honor to know this immense talent while she walked among us, I sure knew her in another. We both hail from Detroit, have a burning passion for music, absolutely love Motown and remember when it was a force to be reckoned with and the playground of the Midwest, and if I listen real hard I can hear her footsteps going down the sidewalk leaving the old Hitsville Building from my perch across the street knowing in my sixteen year old heart I was watching a star.
A solitary tear somehow slipped down my cheek, not for me but for songbirds that cannot stay but are destined to spread their wings and fly to the sky.
This question was asked of me, and I actually was trying to think of an answer knowing one had nothing to do with the other, unless Detroit had been relocated to a cornfield which I figured was not the case. After some back and forth questions the person finally said, “Your blog name is prairie writer, but your books always have Detroit somewhere in them so are you a prairie writer or a Detroit writer?”
I had never thought of it in those terms, but I suppose that is how the two are related; a Detroit writer living on the prairie, although, I have been far removed from Detroit for several decades but it calls to me sometimes. They say the place where you are born does that, and I guess that must be true, more or less, because quite without knowing how Detroit always finds it way to my books.
This is one of those books. The title is misleading and sounds like anyone who ventures to Detroit ends up dead. Just not true, and it’s really about a man who travels to Detroit for nefarious reasons, a homeless man living behind a dumpster, and the woman who walks between the two. It’s also about a town rising up to take care of their own.
Maybe, I need to get myself back to Detroit for a visit so I can write about Boise, Sacramento, or Seattle. Just saying.