Category Archives: Unpacking

The Accidental Tour Guide ► Unpacking The Writer

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This will be a short Unpacking The Writer this month. For the uninitiated, Unpacking the Writer is the monthly feature in which I pull back the curtain and share some of what it’s like to be a writer (and a human) at this critical juncture, as some people say. 

This’ll be shorter than usual because: 1). I posted that big, honkin’ A Writer’s Biography just recently, which I prolly shoulda made an official Unpacking the Writer episode, then I wouldna hadda write this; 2). It’s Thursday, the day on which I start writing the Friday Fox Follies, a new weekly feature at PoliticusUSA, due every … err … Friday; 3). I’m still beavering away on the redesign of the Not Now Silly Newsroom and, to that end, have a Skype meeting with my web spinner scheduled for any minute, which will probably interrupt the writing of this post; 4). Yesterday I started a new post on [allegedly] corrupt Miami Commissioner Marc D. Sarnoff, which I want to get back to so I can finish it by Saturday; and 5). I don’t owe you any explanations, so stop badgering me. Nor do I feel I have to justify long sentences, as long as they’re punctuated properly.

One of the touristy things my sister and I did was to
go to the Swap Shop. She had Zoltar read her fortune.

One year ago the Not Now Silly Newsroom covered a Homeowners Association meeting in Coconut Grove in the cheekily titled No Safe Harbour In Coconut Grove. SPOILER ALERT: The meeting exploded in resident rage when [allegedly] corrupt Miami Commissioner Marc D. Sarnoff and Miami Mayor Tomás Regalado skipped out on the meeting.

I’ve not written about Sarnoff or The Grove lately. Part of the problem is I’ve not had the time to get down to Coconut Grove. And, a post about The Grove I started months ago has been languishing while I do some more desultory research and figure out the best way to frame a very complex topic.

A year ago I still had passion for the Coconut Grove stories I was
writing. However, my inability to make my campaign to Save the E.W.F. Stirrup House go viral had diminished a lot of that enthusiasm.

I think I got it back this week. My sister was visiting from Oak Park, Michigan. Since I had to pick her up at the Miami airport, we took a side trip to Coconut Grove where I laid out the entire history of Coconut Grove, Kebo, E.W.F. Stirrup, Coral Gables, and The Colour Line(s). We walked some of it. Some of it was related while cruising past the Mariah Brown House, Marler Avenue, the Charlotte Jane Memorial Park Cemetery, Coral Gables, MacFarlane Homestead Subdivision Historic District, Grand Avenue, and beautiful downtown CocoWalk, the mall that ate up all the quaint.

I’ll be back in Coconut Grove before you can say The Barnacle, but it made me think that I should be conducting History Tours of Coconut Grove.

A Writer’s Biography

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Renovations continue behind the scenes at the Not Now Silly Newsroom. To that end I have been prepping several thingies to be posted on the back end of the site. Believing in letting none of my precious words go to waste, here’s my bio written in the 3rd person:

Calling himself “A liberally progressive, sarcastically cynical, iconoclastic polymath,” Headly Westerfield has been a professional writer all his adult life. One of his first jobs out of college in the ’70s, was writing and editing Cheap Thrills, the house organ for Concert Productions International club members in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. In subsequent years he wrote for a plethora of magazines and newspapers (where a word like “plethora” is appreciated) including Record Week, The Globe and Mail, The Record, Tribute Magazine, Yorkview Magazine, Toronto Magazine, and The Hamilton Spectator. Of particular note is his decade as a News Writer at Citytv, at the time the highest-rated news shows in Toronto (for those who care about such things).

His regular column in Toronto’s We Compute was ground-breaking: the first (ironically) printed guide to navigating the nascent World Wide Web, just getting nicknamed the Information Superhighway. Long before the Googalizer, Headly Westerfield was sharing links with his readers, a tradition the Not Now Silly Newsroom continues to this very day.

In a writing career of 40+ years, he’s been an Investigative Journalist; Record Reviewer; Entertainment Reporter; Hollywood Fluffer; Rock and Roll Interviewer; and Corporate Shill, writing the ad copy for an award-winning brochure praising Scarborough, Ontario, as well as promotional material for several record companies, a number of bands, and a few restaurants.

As Westerfield has often joked, “I’ve done every kind of writing there is, except for Greeting Cards.”

Once he moved back to the States — just in time for Hurricane Wilma to go right over his condo — Westerfield launched “Aunty Em’s Place” and began free-lancing for various websites including NewsHounds (under the trolling nom de plume Aunty Em Ericann), PoliticusUSA, CurbedMiami, and Stones Detroit. And, he loves long sentences.

With his decade in the CityPulse Newsroom, years writing about the Fox “News” Effect,
and ‘tear sheets’ on a wide variety of topics, Headly
Westerfield is uniquely qualified to write about any subject he may wish to tackle.

In 2012 he created the Not Now Silly Newsroom, which has been his main outlet for investigative journalism, media punditry, and fun with words ever since.

This doesn’t quite feel finished, but I’ve still got some time before it’s posted on the back-end of the new and improved Not Now Silly Newsroom. I’m debating whether to add a paragraph documenting the many other jobs I’ve had in my life that did not involve writing. However, this pretty much sums up the highlights of my writing career. You don’t want to hear about the lowlights.

Unpacking The Writer ► Packing Up the Newsroom

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Welcome to another exciting episode of Unpacking the Writer, the monthly column in which I pull back the curtain — Wizard of Oz-like — and expose some of the inner-workings of a low-budget innertube news room and its hardworking staff.

First up, and most importantly, we had another recent health scare with Pops. While out having dinner with the boys, he choked on a piece of treif (breaded shrimp) and had to be Heimliched by a EMT who just happened to be at the restaurant. None of Pops’ friends picked up on the warning signs that he was choking. Had it not been for the EMT, Pops would have choked to death. He was rushed to the hospital as a precaution, wanting to make sure he didn’t aspirate any food. They kept him a few nights, until all tests proved him good to go. Now he’s back home and back into his regular groove.

A scare like that makes me realize I’ve not really developed a back up plan. My original plan when I moved to Florida never came to fruition. When I arrived I figured it would be easy to find a job as a professional writer, something I had actually been for many decades in Canada. However, I was going from the small pond of Canada into the mighty ‘Merkin ocean. I couldn’t even get the sharks to look at this minnow, to torture the metaphor further. I found it impossible to get editors in Florida to even look at my previous writing, let alone consider a conversation with someone from — sniff — Canada. They all got off the phone with me as quickly as possible.

Meanwhile, I wrote for Newshounds (“We watch Fox so you don’t have to”) for a couple of years under the nom de plume of Aunty Em; and also free-lanced for Stones Detroit; Curbed Miami (one day I hope to get paid the miniscule amount promised for that feature article); PolitucusUSA; and had a disastrous experience at WebVee Guide that started out looking quite lucrative, but ended in farce in just one week. That was easily the craziest experience I’ve ever had with an editor in a writing career working with crazy editors.

Long story short: I’ve simply been unable to find a self-sustaining and continuous source of writing income.

I make no bones about it. I started the Not Now Silly Newsroom (in part) with the hope that it would generate some slight income. While the Not Now Silly Newsroom has generated some money, it’s so miniscule that it would barely keep a hamster alive. I eat far more than hamsters.

The biggest problem is that I’ve not been able to attract sufficient eyeballs to light up the scoreboard. Naturally I feel my writing is so golden that I’m confused the world has not beat a path to this mousetrap. I may have misjudged my cheesy appeal. NAH! Who am I kidding? I’m great! Like finely aged brie.

I’ve managed to convince myself it’s merely because not enough people have shared these articles with their family, friends, children, neighbours, and grocer. (Hint. Hint.)

Another problem in attracting eyeballs — or so I’ve been told many times by many people — is that I am using the Blogger platform, as opposed to a a WordPress template under my own domain name. To that end I’ve hired a big deal Web Designer, with offices on two continents and clients around the World Wide Web. With this company’s guidance the Not Now Silly Newsroom is being rebuilt from the ground up. I’m excited because I’ve seen the mock-ups. I hope you are too.

However, it’s more important than ever before that the Not Now Silly Newsroom generate some income, because there are additional costs associated with this renovation. Only propriety, and the Blogger Terms of Service, prevent me from begging you to click on the adverts on this page. (Hint. Hint.)

Not all headlines are funny. Some are quite tragic.

HEADLINES DU JOUR: I can’t remember if I shared the genesis and creation of Headlines Du Jour, but it can’t hurt to repeat it. Remember: It’s only a rerun if you’ve heard it before.

Headlines Du Jour came to me in a dream. No, really, I dreamed it. 

I don’t usually remember my dreams when I wake up, other than wisps of smoke that I can’t hold onto for more than a minute or two. One morning I woke up after having worked an entire night in the Not Now Silly Newsroom in my dream state. Yannow those dreams when you wake up after you’ve been on the job all night? One of those suckers.

I woke up that morning with the idea of Headlines Du Jour almost fully-formed. I even remembered laughing in the dream over the phrase “today’s Headlines Du Jour.” I took this as an omen and created Headlines Du Jour almost immediately. It only took some minor tinkering for Headlines Du Jour to arrive at its current format.

Sadly I never dreamed how much work it would be to collect, compile, and collate the headlines, not to mention: formatting the post; adding the pics, which luckily are already on my hard drive due to my obsessive pic collecting; and thinking up those snarky little rubrics. It can take anywhere from 1.5 to 2.5 hours from start to finish, depending on the breaks, to post a Headlines Du Jour. Some days, when it’s finally been put to bed (to use an old magazine term for published) I’m already exhausted.

That’s why I’ve chosen to only do it 3 days a week: Tuesday, Thursday, and on the weekends (usually Sunday). I’m trying to reserve the days between for writing smaller posts, so I can get back to posting something almost every day, and/or researching some of my larger posts. Then there’s always Farce Au Pain to work on. Most posts take a few days to write and edit. Posts as long as this can take days, and I allot 5 days for Unpacking the Writer, but this one only took 3.

Not all Fox “News” memes are funny. Some are quite tragic,
‘specially ones noting the intelligence of Fox “News” viewers.

FOX “NEWS” WATCH DU JOUR: Something else unanticipated — more like a nightmare than a dream — was just how many Fox “News” Headlines Du Jour pop up in any given week. [You can take Aunty Em out of the NewsHounds, but you can’t take the NewsHounds out of Aunty Em.] There’s so much tomfoolery and shenanigans on the Fox “News” Channel that sometimes it takes up more than half of the Headlines Du Jour.

A suggestion has been made to spin off the Fox “News” Headlines Du Jour into a stand-alone series, with guaranteed laughs a’plenty. While the Not Now Silly Newsroom is seriously considering this new way of pointing our Fox “News” mendacity, even tho’ it would mean more work for this underpaid scribe, a thought I had while typing this sentence may be a better alternate route. Details to follow.

Meanwhile, you’re now reading a paragraph that really contains nothing more than a blatant plug for The Johnny Dollar Depreciation Society, a cozy little blind pig I operate in an apartment above The Facebookery’s storefront. The dregs and denizens who gather there on a daily basis, because they’ve got nothing better to do, are all dedicated to the mockery of the Fox “News” Meat Puppets, as they continue to plumb the depth of journalistic malpractice.

COCONUT GROVE UPDATE: Sincere apologies to those who come here because of my Coconut Grove posts. There’s nothing to update. I’ve not been down to The Grove for several weeks. To be fair: I never created Now Now Silly to be Grove-centric. That was just a happy accident.

I have been kicking around an article that’s been percolating since I visited Detroit (‘Merka’s first throwaway city) on the 2nd Annual Sunrise to Canton Road Trip for Research and took pictures of the Birwood Wall. Naturally, the article is about walls. It’s about the 8 Mile Wall. It’s about the Coconut Grove Wall. It’s about the walls around Gated Communities. And, the overarching theme (or maybe over-reaching theme), is how these can all be attributed to Racism.

Long story short: Often what’s on each side of these walls is as different as Black and White. Walls do far more to divide us than they do to protect us.

However, in the next post about walls I’ve wanted to include some video. The
last time I was in The Grove I shot several videos, but none of them
came out the way I had hoped. [I now realize it was a stupid idea to try a
long traveling shot at that speed.] I’ve now created a little storyboard and all I need to do is find the time to get back down to Coconut Grove
to shoot the mini-documentary that’ll accompany this important story.

Stay tuned for part three of Where the Sidewalks Ends, Racism Begins.

Total readership, with my high water mark
of December 2103. I need to up my game.

FURTHER HOUSEKEEPING: I’m not so sure what analytics I will have over at the renovated Now Now Silly Newsroom, so this might be the last time to look at these stats as Blogger feeds them to me.

This post is the 639th since I launched the Not Now Silly Newsroom in April of 2012. Nearly a quarter million people (241,455, to be exact, as of right this second) have hung out for some period of time at Not Now Silly. Forty-two percent of my readers use Firefox, with Internet Explorer (26%) and Chrome (15%) rounding out the top three. Sixty-six percent use a Windows OS, with Macintosh number 2 at 21%. About 5% arrive here on various mobile devices, but my web designer says that’s going to pick up considerable. From his mouth to The Flying Spaghetti Monster’s ears.

Also behind the scenes: There are 21 drafts of articles I’ve yet to publish. Some will probably never be finished, while others will be published in the fullness of time. They either require further research or I haven’t found the right way to tell the story yet. [See above.]

The stats I always find interesting is how readers arrived at these shores. While I can see the various sites people have come from, far more interesting to me is what search terms landed people here in the first place. In descending order they are [all sic]:

Brian Jones, Josephine Baker, 3 Stooges, Detroit, Beatles Let It Be, Alan Turing, James Rosen, Bonzo Dog Band, Three Stooges, Fats Waller, Austin Cunningham wiki, Detroit 60’s, leggy newsbabes, Roger Ruskin Spear,  the color line in coconut grove, 9/11 news articles, anyone from Detroit’s black bottom, examples of newspaper headlines, Josephine Baker children, skin in the game pun, stoping cyber bullying, brian jones beatles, controversies of sarnoff, fox news spin cycle, fox news spin cycle female host, headly westerfield, in the 50’s the chicken roost in hamilton, on served chicken on a bun what is the receipe?

Who knew there were so many Chicken Roost lovers?

The most fascinating stat is what countries my readers live in. It’s no surprise that ‘Merka and Canada come in at #1 and #2 respectively. However, I’m surprised I have so many readers in Russia, Malaysia, Ukraine, and China. However, I’ll take my readers where I can find them, even in Commie Countries. Futhermore, I’m not planning to outsource Not Now Silly production to China like some other Bain Capitalists.

The Top Ten is always changing slightly. You can see the current Top Ten in the column to the upper-right. However, the Top Ten at THIS MOMENT IN TIME looks like this:

1). The Detroit Riots ► Unpacking My Detroit ► Part Five
2). Brian Jones ► A Musical Appreciation
3). The Johnny Dollar Wars ► Chapter and Verse
4). Day In History ► Josephine Baker Born
5). Aries Development Continues To Rape Charles Avenue
6). Chow Mein and Bolling 5 ► Bully Boy Lies (Again)
7). Did Roger Ailes Dupe James Rosen, Or Did Rosen Dupe ‘Merka?
8). The First Three Stooges ► Nostalgia Ain’t What It Used To Be
9). Is Marc D. Sarnoff Corrupt Or The Most Corrupt Miami Politician
10). Does Fox “News” Support Johnny Dollar? ► The Mark Koldys-Johnny Dollar Comment of the Day

Proof of concept of new logo. The final
will probably look nothing like this.

Hopefully by the time I publish Unpacking the Writer for the month of October, the BRAND NEW & IMPROVED Not Now Silly Newsroom will be up and running, fortified with Niacin and your daily adult requirement of news, history, and snark. It’s a slow process. However, I’m in no hurry to get it on the net. I would rather it be right than fast.

Ever onward and upward, dear readers.

A Tribute to Don Knotts ► Morgantown’s Favourite Son

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DATELINE: Morgantown, West Virginia – As part of the 2nd Annual Sunrise to Canton Road Trip for Research, the Not Now Silly Newsroom sent ace investigative reporter Headly Westerfield to Morgantown, West Virginia, for a privately conducted Don Knotts Memorial Nostalgia Tour. Here is his uncensored report: *

I drove into Morgantown after midnight, although I had been expected hours earlier. Because I was running so late, my correspondent had already gone to bed. To make matters worse, due to a faulty GPS and an incredibly dark section of road on the outskirts of town, I passed the driveway of the condo complex several times before I finally gave up and phoned. A teenager I had never spoken to before answered. Even with his help I managed to pass the entrance another two times. Finally he came out to the main road, while still on the phone, and waved a flashlight. To my chagrin, I was in the parking lot right next door. I hoped this would not be an omen for the Don Knotts Memorial Nostalgia Tour.

Morgantown is city tucked into a valley, in the crook between Cheat Lake and the Monongahela River. Downtown Morgantown has the appearance of a small town. What is known as Greater Morgantown, these days, is really comprised of several distinct neighbourhoods. Some of these had been separate towns that were annexed into the city proper. The surrounding area is so hilly, and with suburban sprawl occurring wherever they could make the land flat, each neighbourhood is almost a town onto itself, connected by highways and roads which wind up one side of a mountain and down the other.

A quick dip into the WickyWhackyWoo also tells me that Morgantown was named after one of the first homesteaders, Zackquill Morgan. Morgans Town was incorporated as Morgantown by the Virginia General Assembly in 1838. It is best known — for better or worse — as being the birthplace of Don Knotts.

Before my editor arranged for the privately conducted Don Knotts Memorial Nostalgia Tour, I didn’t know a whole lot about Don Knotts, other than many of his roles. I remember as a kid seeing him on the Steve Allen Show, often playing a nervous man-in-the street. Then, of course, there was Deputy Barney Fife, the role that made him famous. Another of his tee vee roles was that of swinging-single-man-about-town, Ralph Furley. Knotts jumped into the already successful Three’s Company after ABC ill-advisedly spun off The Ropers, which barely lasted a season and a half before it was cancelled. And, of course, I knew all those whacky movies from the ’60s: The Incredible Mr. Limpet, The Ghost and Mr. Chicken, The Reluctant Astronaut, and The Shakiest Gun in the West, among others. I grew up on Don Knotts comedy. He made me laugh.

Don Knotts with Danny “Hootch” Matador (right)

But, I have to admit I didn’t know anything about Don Knotts, the person. Imagine my surprise to learn he led an early life of heartbreak and confusion. Again, the WikiWhackyWoo saved me from abject ignorance:

Knotts’ paternal ancestors had emigrated from England to America in the 17th century, originally settling in Queen Anne’s County, Maryland. Knotts’ father was a farmer. William Knotts had a nervous breakdown due to the stress of the fourth child, Don, being born so late (Don’s mother was 40). Afflicted with schizophrenia and alcoholism, he sometimes terrorized his young son with a knife, causing the boy to turn inward at an early age. Knotts’ father died of pneumonia when Don, the youngest son, was 13 years old. Don and his three brothers were then raised by their mother, who ran a boarding house in Morgantown.

Like so many that have experienced early tragedy, Don Knotts became a comedian. During his teen years Knotts had a successful ventriloquist act, entertaining his Morgantown High School classmates at parties and other paid performances, including appearing occasionally at The Metropolitan Theatre, the big deal theater in town that opened the same year Knotts was born.

The Metropolitan Theatre in beautiful downtown Morgantown

After a failed trip to New York City to see if he could make it in the Big Time, Knotts returned home, enrolling in West Virgina University. However, WWII intervened and, like most of his peers, Knotts signed up for duty. Knotts didn’t see much combat. He was assigned to the Special Services Branch, where he and his dummy Danny “Hootch” Matador entertained the troops for the duration.

When the war was over, Knotts decided to try New York City all over again.This time he used the connections he made during his tour of duty to get a toe-hold in the business called Show. Aside from appearing at some comedy clubs, Knotts started to get a bit of radio work. Tee vee was still in its infancy when, in 1953, Knotts took on the regular role of Wilbur Peterson on Search For Tomorrow, his only dramatic part in a long comedic career. However, it was on Steve Allen’s show where he gained his first brush with real fame. While he was appearing on that show, Knotts his Broadway debut in No Time For Sergeants. 

No Time For Sergeants has an interesting history, especially since it’s the vehicle that brought Don Knotts and Andy Griffith together as an enduring comedy team. It started as a 1954 novel by Mac Hyman, about the antics of an unsophisticated country boy drafted into the Army Air Force during WW2. It was adapted a year later by Ira Levin as a 1-hour segment of The United States Steel Hour, which starred Andy Griffith (and some folks that few people remember). Andy Griffith had become an over-night sensation when his rural comedy monologue, What It Was, Was Football, was released as a single in ’53. It was a no-brainer to look at Andy Griffth when a country bumpkin was needed for the No Time role.

The Don Knotts Childhood Home

After Levin adapted No Time For Sergeants for Broadway, Griffith reprised his tee vee role with an up-and-coming Don Knotts playing several parts, the first pairing of this comedy team.

Then Levin adapted the teleplay and Broadway hit into a full-length motion picture, called, not surprsingly, No Time For Sergeants. Both Knotts and Griffith reprised their roles in that 1958 hit movie directed by Mervyn Leroy. This flick is considered the springboard that launched the national careers of Don Knotts and Andy Griffith.

Two years later when Andy was looking for a second banana for The Andy Griffth Show he didn’t have to look much farther than Don Knotts. The rest is tee vee history.

The Morgantown High School auditorium

The Don Knotts Memorial Nostalgia Tour began soon after the crack of noon, because that’s when teenagers wake up.

The first stop was, fittingly, the Don Knotts Childhood Home, which sadly is unmarked or commemorated in any way. The house presents a very small façade from the street, but because it was built on one of Morgantown’s many hills, the land drops away sharply in the back revealing a deep 3-storey structure that could have easily been used as a boarding house. It’s a humble beginning for the 5-time Emmy Award winner.

Not very far away, after navigating a few more of Morgantown’s hills and one way streets, we come to Morgantown High School, where Don Knotts began his long career as an entertainer. Outside the school’s auditorium there is an appropriately moving tribute to those alumni who gave their lives fighting in various wars. However, there was nothing that this reporter could see that commemorated Morgantown High’s most famous graduate, Don Knotts, ranked by TV Guide as #27 on its list of 50 Greatest TV Stars of All Time.

Bigger disappointment was still to come.

This reporter heard through the grapevine that there was one place in Morgantown where Don Knotts was commemorated as he so rightly deserved. According to the requisite several confidential sources, I should head over to the Metropolitan Theatre immediately. There, according to urban legend, I would find a large brass plaque embedded in the sidewalk which honours the location where Don Knotts got his start in Legit Show Biz.

Jumping back into the car, we raced the several blocks to the location, fighting the heavy downtown Morgantown traffic all the way. We were forced to pay for parking at an available meter more than a block away. Walking up to the building, this is what greeted us:

The scene of the crime against humanity! Where is the brass plaque honoring Don Knotts that was embedded in the sidewalk?
And, I made sure I wiped my dirty shoes on their nice rug, too!

I was heartbroken!!!

Now, keep in mind that I had already
traveled some 2,000 miles on the Sunrise to Canton Road Trip for Research to get this far (not counting several touristy
side trips). Why wasn’t Don Knotts getting the kudos he deserved, other than a small section of University Avenue renamed Don Knotts Boulevard during a Don Knotts Day held while the comedian was still alive?

There was no way I was going to put up with this bullshit.

I stormed inside and marched right up to the ticket windows. The two women inside the booth cowered as I demanded to know where the Don Knotts Memorial sidewalk plaque was. I made sure they learned some new expletives. I impressed upon them how many thousands of miles I had already traveled. Raising my voice to the highest dudgeon, I informed him that, as an employee of the Not Now Silly Newsroom, I refused to leave unless they gave me satisfactory answers to my questions. As they shuddered under the power of the press and the weight of The First Amendment, I threatened to expose them, the Metropolitan Theatre, and their entire bullshit town, which merely pretends to honour its greatest citizen of all time, but in actuality thumbs its nose at all the rubes who come to Morgantown for the full Don Knotts Experience.

In reality: I walked up to the ticket booth in the lobby and politely asked the two very sweet women if they knew what had happened to the plaque. All they knew for sure is that it had just recently been removed for repairs and they didn’t know when would be returned. Just then the manager of the theater came along and suggested I inquire up the street at the Morgantown Visitors Center, where they might know when the plaque would be returning.

Morgantown Visitors Center

Back into the car, fighting the awful downtown traffic all over again, we finally pitched up at the Morgantown Visitors Center, a mere two blocks away. And, it’s there that the entire Don Knotts Memorial Nostalgia Tour was redeemed because, there, just inside the front window, was an entire display all about Morgantown’s favourite son, Don Knotts.

Taking a picture through the window wouldn’t work because of the glare. I was so excited to finally hit pay dirt that I rushed inside and started taking pictures. It’s my normal practice to ask permission before taking pictures because it’s the polite thing to do. However, I simply forgot my manners and knew I had screwed up mightily when a woman started screaming at me, “STOP! Don’t touch it! What are you doing? STOP!” Only my mother has ever yelled at me like that.

As if I was answering my mother, it all came out in a torrent: “I’m so sorry, I would never touch a display, but had traveled thousands of miles for the Don Knotts Memorial Nostalgia Tour, and this was the first acknowledgement of Don Knotts I’ve found, and just down the street was supposed to be a huge brass plaque embedded in the sidewalk, but it’s missing, and they sent me down here because you might know about it, and, I’m so sorry, I should have asked, but all I want is get some close up pictures. Honest, lady. Don’t hurt me.”

That’s when she relaxed. To help me get better pictures, she even turned the entire display around, so I could get a better angle. If you look closely at the pic above, you can see why the woman was so protective of the maquette. Just above the knee is a crack that runs right through the leg. It seems that just the week before my arrival someone grabbed the leg and broke it. Now the woman makes sure that Don Knotts doesn’t get damaged any further.

Guarding Don Knotts

This maquette is to become a larger-than-life statue of Don Knotts to be erected on the waterfront. Morgantown is hoping to create a whole day of it, whenever it is, with a dedication and unveiling. An entire weekend of Don Knotts Days might include parades, picnics, band concerts, beauty pageants, culminating in a massive fireworks display. I sure hope I’m invited to the event I just created in my head.

I am always looking for the hidden Easter eggs real life has to offer. Finally, there are two weird pieces of synchronicity on which we’ll end the Don Knotts Memorial Nostalgia Tour.

SYNCHRONICITY #1: Almost 300 miles south of Morgantown I was reminded of the enuring legacy of Don Knotts on ‘Merkin culture.

After leaving Morgantown, with more than a thousand miles still to go before I get home, the Sunrise to Canton Road Trip for Research was just marking off the miles with no more side trips. The farther south I traveled, the less hilly the terrain. The road began to level out in southern Virginia. Crossing the state line into North Carolina, I was in great need of rest stop. The first one I happened across was not far into the state, just outside of Mount Airy, North Carolina.

I didn’t realize it until I walked inside, but Mount Airy was the birthplace of Andy Griffith. Inside the rest stop, in a display cabinet given pride of prominence is a tribute to Mount Airy’s favourite son. Of course no tribute to Mayberry is complete without a nod to Dan Knotts, second banana extraordinaire.

SYNCHRONICITY #2: As I was editing this into a coherent arrangement of words, sentences, and paragraphs, the tee vee was playing in the background. A noisy commercial distracted me and I looked up to see what it was about. There, on my tee vee tube, was Don Knotts!!! As it turns out, MeTV is bringing The Andy Griffith Show to its comedy calvacade, replacing the ever-dreadful Gilligan’s Island, starting September 1st, and every weeknight at 8PM Eastern, 7 Central.

* As the Not Now Silly Newsroom Fact-Checkers were preparing this article for print it was discovered that not all events took place as described. We were going to just scrap this travelogue as not worthy of publication, but Headly has already cashed the cheque.

Unpacking The Writer ► Master of My Own Domain

Nothing up my sleeve!

Welcome to another exciting edition of Unpacking The Writer, the monthly series in which I pull back the curtain and reveal the inner-workings of the Not Now Silly Newsroom. This month I’m revealing far more than usual.

The suicide of Robin Williams kicked me where it really hurts: in my raw, naked emotions. I’ve still yet to shake it off.

It did so for a number of reasons. For one: There was a time in my life I freelanced as a Joke Plugger. The job entailed sitting all by myself and thinking of funny things that a comedian could say. Then I would write down, in my best block letters, the funny things on a 3 x 5 index card. If the funny thing didn’t fit on a 3 x 5 index card, I would continue to rewrite it until it did fit. Jokes are all about brevity.

Once I had gathered a number of these index cards with funny things on them, the harder part began. I would take them to comedy clubs. Then I would buttonhole comedians before or after their set and show them my index cards. When comics are riffing, it’s all fun and games. They all want to top each other. However, when comedians are discussing comedy, it’s serious business.

I’m sure they could feel my interior flop sweat as they shuffled through my 3×5 index cards with funny things on them, yet they’d never crack a smile. They might deadpan, “This is funny” or “I like this one,” or even “That’s been done by so-and-so,” but never once during that entire time did I elicit a laugh from a comedian, despite having sold many of them jokes at $25 a piece.

However, it was incandescent comedians like Robin Williams [and Richard Pryor and Andy Kaufman], who exploded the entire comedic paradigm of JOKE-SET UP-PUNCHLINE, that convinced me I would never achieve fame in the writing-funny-things-down world.

Robin Williams was the John Lennon of comedy. I make the comparison for a number of reasons. In the world of comedy there was no one who could touch him. So many people grew up to his comedy stylings that more than one generation revered him. And, his death was as incomprehensible and tragic as Lennon’s.

I hadn’t heard Robin Williams speak of his depression before he hanged himself, but I have since. It reminds me that everybody’s depression is entirely unique and that all depression is exactly alike.

Hello. My name is Headly and I suffer from depression.

I’ve suffered from depression as long as I can remember. It’s a roller coaster. Sometimes I’m down and some times I’m further down. And, some times I am so far down that I feel I’m in the Mariana Trench. Sometimes I just think of myself as broken. While some days are better than others, rarely do I feel “happy” — whatever the hell that means — for more than a fleeting moment or two. When things are passing for what I feel is normal — whatever the hell that means — I think of it as anhedonia. It’s only when it dips lower do I acknowledge it’s really depression.

In all the years I’ve suffered from depression, I’ve told very few people. Some that I have told have probably forgotten by now. Some of you are learning for the first time, even tho’ we’ve been face-to-facefriends for decades. However, for most of my readers, it’s really none of your damned business. However, I feel that this reveal is important.

It’s not about you. It’s about me.

Not that I think I will ever conquer my depression. It’s just something I need to learn to live with, and “live” is the operative word. As dark as things have ever looked, I’ve never contemplated suicide. Yet I’ve often had the thought that the people around me might be a whole lot better off if I weren’t around. That’s one of the warning signs that I am more depressed than usual because it has a name. It’s called passive suicidal ideation.

I presume only my most loyal readers and cyber-stalkers will have read this far.

SPEAKING OF MY CRAZY CYBER-BULLYING ENEMIES: After more than 3 years
of relentless — almost daily — attacks, it would appear The Flying Monkey Squad has tired
of the feud they started when they exposed my alternative lifestyle over a difference of opinion. In fact, Grayhammy — aka Ashley Graham — has not been spotted since July 4th, which I guess you could call my Independence
Day. “Some people say” that my full-length book, The Johnny Dollar Wars,
had its intended effect. To be fair, there are others (like me, f’rinstance) just
waiting for the next shoe to drop; knowing full-well they are working on a new project to smear me. Only time will tell.

However, for the time being, I’ve stopped promoting The Johnny Dollar Wars with timed tweets. It has peaked at 1,910 views (as of this writing), making it the 3rd most popular post at Not Now Silly. Meanwhile, The Johnny Dollar Depreciation Society will
continue to supply your daily adult requirement of Fox “News” Snark.

Today on Fox “News”

WE GET MAIL I: I’ve been asked why I go after Fox “News” so relentlessly. You mean aside from the fact that it deserves every bit of it and a whole lot more besides?

While those in the know already know, my newer readers may be unaware I wrote for NewsHounds, the motto of which is “We watch Fox so you don’t have to.” To maintain anonymity I wrote under the nom de plume of Aunty Em Ericann. I started as their Glenn Beck expert, but moved on to provide truth about other Foxy personalities over the course of my time there. [That’s also when I picked up my crazy cyber-stalking bullies. They actually feel as if they are defending Fox “News” with all their lies and smears against me. Crazy is s crazy does.]

WE GET MAIL II: I’ve been asked more than once, what makes
for a good Headlines Du Jour headline? Each day, as I am driving along
the information highway, I collect some of the more interesting
headlines that I share on my Twitter or Facebookery feeds. I use my own
interests as a guide for what to include. I reason that if I find it
interesting, there’s going to be a others who also find it interesting.
Then there are the subjects I tend to gravitate towards because I have a
greater interest in certain topics than others. These include, but are
not limited to, LGBT Rights, Racism, Bullying, Religion, Income
Inequality, Hemp, Gun Control, Bizarre Conspiracy Theories, Outer Space,
and, of course, the Fox “News” Channel Follies Du Jour.

LAST BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST: Huzzah! Huzzah!! Huzzah!!!

Big changes are coming, dear reader, which will only enhance your daily field trips to the Not Now Silly Newsroom. There is a great deal of excitement in the
Not Now Silly Newsroom these days as we begin to renovate the entire
space from the subbasement right on up to the microwave communication
dishes on the roof.

This isn’t going to be anything like our
last redesign which — let’s be honest — was merely cosmetic. A year
ago last April the name changed from “Headly Westerfield’s Aunty Em
Ericann Blog” [an unwieldy moniker to say the least] to Not Now Silly. I
slapped a new logo on the top, splashed a little paint here, pasted up
some wallpaper there, and then I called it a relaunch. But, it was all
smoke and mirrors. So what if the Not Now Silly News Director added a
microwave to the lunch room? That hardly appeased those who toiled in
the subbasement collecting each day’s Headlines Du Jour.

Nope! This time we’re renovating the entire Not Now Silly Newsroom.

COMING
SOON!!! A brand new look on a new platform, with a renewed determination
and a new domain name: NotNowSilly.com. It’s time to take the Not Now
Silly Newsroom to the next level. Who is with me?

Fighting Blight In Coconut Grove

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The most recent notice on The Bicycle Shop, citing the owner,
Coconut Grove Playhouse LLC., with “First Year failure to
register a Blighted, unsecured, or abandoned structure.”

My recent trip to Gilchrist, my old stomping grounds in Detroit, has me thinking about urban blight in entirely different terms these days. Saturday’s visit to The Grove forced me to look at Coconut Grove blight in way I had never considered before.

Admittedly the word “blight” was already ringing in my head when I came across the NOTICE (left), which cites the owner of the Bicycle Shop with “First Year failure to register a Blighted, unsecured, or abandoned structure.” It’s worth noting that Aries Development, fronted by rapacious developer Gino Falsetto, took control of The Bicycle Shop in January. It promptly ripped off the roof and has since allowed it to become blighted, if the City of Miami can be believed. Imagine that. In one of the most exclusive Zip Codes in the entire country.

Which brings us to the blighted E.W.F. Stirrup House. Aries Development acquired control of the Stirrup House almost a decade ago. Since then the second oldest house in Coconut Grove has become blighted — there’s no other word for it — and it becomes more so every single day. Aries acquired a 50-year lease on the Stirrup House (the house must remain in the Stirrup family in perpetuity) in a complicated property swap when it built The Monstrosity, aka Grove Gardens Residence
Condominiums.

When Aries received the permits to build that 5-storey mixed-use condo complex, which dwarfs the modest Stirrup House, it committed to restoring this culturally important 120-year old house. A later plan claimed it would become a Bed and Breakfast. Meanwhile, it has become blighted, undergoing Demolition by
Neglect ever since Falsetto got his grimy hands on it. One could almost say Aries has once again failed “to register a Blighted, unsecured, or abandoned structure,” but I’ll let the City of Miami take care of any official notices. I can only tell you what I have observed the last 5 years I have been photographing and researching the E.W.F. Stirrup House.

The E.W.F. appears to have an open door policy again.

While it’s hard to tell from this pic, the front door of the Stirrup House was left open again on Saturday night. The last time I found the front door wide open I took it as an invitation to walk right in, since the front gate had also been left wide open. Neither the property or the structure were secured. Had the gate been closed and locked, at the very least, the property would have been secured. But, that’s no longer the case.

That’s because the back wall of the Stirrup property was demolished the same day Aries Development [allegedly] illegally cut down all the old trees on the Stirrup Property. That 7-foot wall was not just a target for neighbourhood taggers, it separated The Monstrosity’s fancy schmancy restaurants — with valet parking and underground wine cellar — from the blighted E.W.F. Stirrup House, right next door. Nowadays anyone who goes to The Taurus, La Bottega, and/or Calamari (the three restaurants that Aries Group runs) can wander right past where the wall used to be, up to the blighted, unsecured and abandoned Stirrup House and walk right in, as I would have on Saturday night had I not already been pressed for time.

Demolition by Neglect is a tried and true tactic to destroy a property that sits in a developer’s way. The E.W.F. Stirrup House has always stood in Aries Development’s way. Despite more recent claims to want to turn the house into a Bed & Breakfast, Aries has done ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, unless you call [allegedly] illegally cutting down all the old trees on the Stirrup property, and demolishing the interior without a permit, absolutely nothing.

Speaking of Aries: It had been my understanding that when the Coconut Grove Playhouse deal had gone through back in January, the Bicycle Shop was turned over to the Aries Group as a way to remove it from the Gordian Knot that had become the Coconut Grove Playhouse collapse. So, imagine my surprise when the NOTICE (above) was issued to COCONUT GRV PLAYHOUSE LLC, which SunBiz doesn’t list. All similar names are Inactive. Who actually owns this property? You’d think the city would know.

No matter. As has already been demonstrated, Gino Falsetto has the Midas touch in reverse. Everything he touches appears to become blighted. Or bankrupt. Before he washed up in the over-heated Miami real estate market, Falsetto and his brothers bankrupt several restaurants in the Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, area.

Sitting right between the Stirrup House and the Bicycle Shop is ANOTHER blighted and boarded-up building in Coconut Grove: The Coconut Grove Playhouse. Just when it appeared that everything concerning that issue had been solved came these screaming headlines earlier this week:

Coconut Grove Playhouse $45 million complex run by Arsht Center Bad Deal
Second Coconut Grove Playhouse proposed
Civic Leaders Evolving Alternate More Ambitious $45 Mil Plan For Coconut Grove Playhouse

It’s far too early to tell what this will mean for Charles Avenue, which has been designated a Historic Roadway as the first street in Miami. I’ll be writing more about the Playhouse in the days to come. However, it’s hard not to see the ultimate winner could be Aries Development, which not only owns the Bicycle Shop, but also the two vacant lots immediately west of the Playhouse. These lots, which once had small shotgun houses on them, were snatched up in the same deal that gave Aries control of the E.W.F. Stirrup House. Any large development at the corner of Main Highway and Charles Avenue will only enrich a rapacious developer, at the expense of Coconut Groves’s rich cultural heritage.

While Detroit Crumbled, Gilchrist Street Hung On

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The little house I used to live in.
Pops bought it for around $3,000 in 1957.

I left Detroit in 1971, but my parents stayed in the little house I used to live in for the next several years. I returned to Gilchrist Street frequently for visits until my parents moved 2 miles north, out of the city, into Oak Park.

Despite my parents having moved, I continued to return, year after year, decade after decade, from one millennia into the next. It seems almost a lifetime ago because it was. I rarely visited Motown without dropping in on the old neighbourhood. Gilchrist was my talisman. I was looking for truths that remained hidden, especially from me. So, I kept returning, reaching for something just beyond my vision; just past my memory. I was looking for something I never found.

This provides me with an overview to chart the devolution of a neighbourhood in a way that most can’t. I watched my old neighbourhood become infected with the disease that destroyed so much of Detroit, ‘Merka’s first throwaway city. It’s no accident I have been calling Detroit ‘Merka’s first throwaway city for almost 2 years. It was a case of “Out of sight, out of mind.” Until Detroit’s bankruptcy was announced — and an Emergency Manager appointed to oversee the democratically elected city government — most people had forgotten Detroit even existed.

Just one of hundreds of houses like this in my old neighbourhood

I can still recall my first memory of what would come to be called Urban Blight in later years. It was a large, mixed-use, yellow-bricked building on the surface/ service drive, viewed from the John C. Lodge Ditch. There would have once been apartments on the upper stories with storefronts at street level. I was 14 or 15 when it was boarded up. It remained boarded up for more than 30 years that I recall. Then the Lodge fell into disuse as the highway used to get in and out of downtown from the ‘burbs, so I don’t know what happened to it in the last 2 decades. For all I know it’s still there. Or, it may be gone by now, just another building missing from Motown’s landscape. But for me this building was far more iconic of Detroit’s road to ruin than the Michigan Central Station, which I had only seen in pictures.

White Flight, Urban blight, and Demolition by Neglect — in that order — are the major forces which have helped to destroy Detroit, the once proud Arsenal of Democracy. People tend to peg the fall and decline of Detroit with the 1967 Riot. However, they are shocked to discover it began almost immediately after Germany and Japan surrendered at the end of WWII.

Racial strife was so common in Detroit in the ’40s that propaganda
posters were made to warn people not to give comfort to the enemy.

There had already been several warnings. As I have written in The Detroit Riots, the 1863 Riot set the stage for most of what came after. That was a White Riot determined to eradicate Black folk from Detroit. In 1863 Detroit was such a new city, it didn’t have a police force yet. The rebellion had to be put down by the army. When the Detroit Police Department was formed soon after, it was tasked — IN THE INCORPORATING DOCUMENTS!!! — with keeping Blacks in line. And, Detroit Police took that oath seriously, right into the 1970s.

However, the warnings that should have been headed were those in the 1940s that indicated the races in Detroit were never going to get along. As Black and White soldiers were fighting Fascism overseas, those who remained on the home front fought each other. During the war Black and White southerners migrated to Detroit to take up jobs in the defense industry. Racial problems began almost immediately. As I wrote 2 years ago in The Detroit Riots:

When the Feds announced a housing projects [sic] for Detroit, on the edge of a traditional White neighbourhood, the local community assumed it was for their own kind. When it was named the Sojourner Truth housing project, Whites protested. The government reversed its decision and decided this would be for Whites and it would find another location for a Black housing project, even tho’ it would retain the Truth name. Then Detroit Mayor Edward Jeffries, Jr. got involved and the Feds reversed their decision again: This housing would be for the Black people of Detroit who desperately needed housing. On moving day Whites protested, turning away the first families. It was months before people would eventually move in.

That was just the appetizer. Less than a year later there was a wildcat strike at the Packard Motor Plant after the company promoted 3 Black men to work the line. According to the WikiWackyWoo:

In early June 1943, three weeks before the riot, Packard Motor Car Company promoted three blacks to work next to whites in the assembly lines. This promotion caused 25,000 whites to walk off the job, effectively slowing down the critical war production. It was clear that whites didn’t mind that blacks worked in the same plant but refused to work side-by-side with them. During the protest, a voice with a Southern accent shouted in the loudspeaker, “I’d rather see Hitler and Hirohito win than work next to a Nigger.”[7]

Then came the 1943 Detroit Riot. That was really the beginning of the end. White Flight began the minute it could. It started when peace was declared, increased as prosperity reigned, and became a wave when vast subdivisions were thrown up north of 8 Mile, outside the city limits. White Flight only became a tsunami after the 1967 Riot.

Two houses on Biltmore Street a few doors down from The Millers

Today Detroit’s population of 700,000 is a fraction of its 1950 peak of 1.8 million. Entrepreneurs are buying up whole swaths of Detroit for wholesale gentrification. Tens of thousands (!) of abandoned structures are slated for demolition by new blight removal programs. Urban farms are being planted where houses, parks and schools once stood. Detroit is being transformed and what it will become is anybody’s guess at the moment

Returning frequently, I watched the urban blight grow over the decades. It was as pernicious as the mold and mildew that attacks houses in the south. It kept nibbling around the edges, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, decade after decade, until it reached my old neighbourhood just on the northern edge of Detroit, immediately south of the famed 8 Mile Road. Then I watched as it infected block after block of the square mile I lived in bounded by 8 Mile and 7 Mile Roads, with Greenfield and Southfield to the east and west. Now, in that square mile are hundreds of homes boarded up, burned up, or missing entirely.

Danny Harris. of the Gilchrist Block Club, cutting the grass

As the years took its toll on Detroit, something unexpected happened to Gilchrist, the street I grew up on: NOTHING!!!

While every surrounding block had anywhere from 3-10 destroyed homes per block, Gilchrist — from Pembroke Avenue to 8 Mile Road — still appeared to be in pristine condition. While I watched blight strike everywhere else in my old neighbourhood, somehow this half mile stretch of Gilchrist was spared.

FULL DISCLOSURE: Obviously I didn’t drive up and down every street in Detroit on my 2nd Annual Sunrise to Canton Road Trip for Research, but I must have driven some
20-30 miles just up and down the streets in my old neighbourhood. I saw no other half mile stretch that appeared to be untouched
by blight except this 1/2 mile stretch of Gilchrist. There were small stretches of nice, but not a full half
mile of it.

TO BE FAIR: On closer inspection there are a few boarded up houses along Gilchrist, but because the lawns are kept neat and tidy, they don’t jump out at you the way they do on the other blocks. And, there are far fewer of them on Gilchrist.

While taking pictures of my old house I ran into Danny Harris two doors down. Mr. Harris is a member of the registered non-profit Gilchrist Block Club, a kind of “Keep Gilchrist Beautiful” community group in operation since 1984. Harris was cutting the grass of the house at the corner of Hessel. While he lived closer to Pembroke, Mr. Harris walked his lawnmower 3 blocks to take care of this patch of grass. Perhaps this community volunteerism is what spared Gilchrist from the same fate that’s affected all the other surrounding blocks.

Retired Detroit police officer Robert Miller on Biltmore Street

Biltmore, one street to the east, has no block club. Just around the corner from where Harris cut the grass live Robert and Kim Miller. The Millers bought their home 28 years ago and watched the block slowly crumble around them. The two houses pictured above are just a few doors down from the Millers, whose front yard is a testament to how a little landscaping and care can make all the difference.

Robert is a retired Detroit Police officer who paid for his home about what Pops got for his when he moved to the suburbs. At the time the neighbourhood was solidly middle class, but changing demographics rapidly as the first blocks in this neighbourhood were “busted” in the mid-to-late ’70s. That’s when White Flight would have begun in the area, accelerating over the years.

Now, on paper, Robert Miller’s house on Biltmore is worth the same $30,000 that he paid for it. However, he can’t even get offers on a house in a neighbourhood where hundreds of homes are abandoned and crumbling. He and his wife have their eye on a gated-condo complex in Novi, Michigan, with amenities, where they will be moving within the next 6 months. They’ll leave the house to their daughter, hoping that eventually the neighbourhood will stage a comeback. It can hardly get worse.

However, no comeback for Gilchrist Street because Gilchrist never left. I’ve watched this street for the past 40 years. It hasn’t changed. It hasn’t become blighted. It hasn’t suffered the same fate as miles and miles of Motown housing tracts. Gilchrist may offer clues to Detroit’s revival, provided the city’s not gentrified beyond recognition.

Yet visiting my old neighbourhood never fails to make me cry. This time it was my Junior High School that got to me and began the waterworks. Last year Coffey Junior High School was still in operation. Now it’s one of many schools closed as Detroit’s population, and tax base, can no longer support so many schools. However, the scrappers have already started to strip it of anything and everything of value.

This is why, for me, Detroit represents the total failure of ‘Merkins to live up to the lofty words about equality inscribed in the founding documents. Everything that subsequently happened to Detroit happened because of systemic Racism and White Flight. Your mileage may vary, but I contend that if people learned to live together decades ago, Detroit would not have become ”Merka’s first throwaway city.

 

Unpacking the Sunrise to Canton Road Trip for Research

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Panorama of the 8 Mile Wall, behind the houses on Birwood in Dcetroit, Michigan

The 2nd Annual Sunrise to Canton Road Trip for Research was full of surprises. Surprises are the delight of a loosely planned 3,000 mile drive. All told I figure I drove some 65 hours, with a week in the Canton Township, Michigan, area in the middle. Sunrise to Canton Township alone is about 24 hours of straight driving. Most of my various hosts gave me a driving tour of their town, with me driving, adding another 12 hours to the overall trip.

What I learned on this trip, but really should have learned last year: There is no adequate and reliable way to update Not Now Silly from my Windows Phone. Next year I’m going to make sure I have a laptop, making updates much easier. As it is I only managed to post a three “A Note From The Road” posts. Either I had trouble with connectivity or I was surrounded by people, which wasn’t conducive to spending time posting. Here are the very few I managed to post:

A Note From The Road #1
A Note From The Road #2
A Note From The Road #3

A former nightclub in Steubenville, Ohio, once owned by The Mob.
Dean Martin had no choice but to perform here early in his career.

Aside from all my research in Canton Township, Michigan, I have enough other material to power several future Not Now Silly posts. These include, but are not limited to, the 8 Mile Wall; Morgantown‘s favourite son, Don Knotts; Ruin Porn, Gilchrist Street, and Coffee Jr. High School; Medical Marijuana in Michigan; highway driving in ‘Merka; and other sundry writings as I get to them.

Driving 3,000+ miles in ‘Merka is always an interesting and eye-opening experience. One thing I learned last year, but which was reinforced this year, is that every family has family drama. I heard of several this year, all unprompted, just like last year.

I took more than 1,200 pictures on the 2nd Annual Sunrise to Canton Road Trip for Research and not all of them in Canton Township, Michigan. I have already posted several photo albums on my facebookery:

The saddest part of the 2nd Annual Sunrise to Canton Road Trip for Research was to see my old neighbourhood. Every year when I visit I notice the Detroit blight has grown since the previous year. In recent years it has crept into my old neighbourhood, nibbling around the edges. Now it has infected dozens and dozens of houses in just the square mile bounded by 7 Mile, 8 Mile and Greenfield and Southfield on the east and west. This includes Coffey Jr. High School, where I went along with all my sibs. Coffey has been closed and the scrappers have already trashed the building.

I joined the rank of scrappers when I stole a number of architectural glass blocks and distributed them among my sisters as mementos of their youth. My experiences in my old neighbourhood will be a Not Now Silly Newsroom Investigative Report. Coming soon.

BONUS: I left Sunrise with 2 books: the one I was reading and the one I would read next. I returned with 13 more than I left with because so many people gave me books on my travels. My friends really have me pegged and know what I like.

Finally, I would like to thank all my hosts.The joy of these road trips is being able to meet friends and readers along the road. Without these stops, it would be a long and boring drive. Without these stops I wouldn’t see towns and cities I normally would drive right past. Without these stops I wouldn’t get personally guided tours. A huge thanks to each and every one of you. I hope to see you on the 3rd Annual Sunrise to Canton Road Trip for Research, already in the planning stages.

Here’s the latest look at the little house I used to live in:

Here’s the latest listen to The Little House I Used To Live In:

A Note From The Road

I’m now on the return trip, stopping the night in Elyria, Ohio. This sign is at a rest stop on the information highway, aka I-75.

I didn’t update Not Now Silly as often as I had hoped, but things were just too busy.

However, there’s so much to talk about that it’s a shame it will have to wait until I get home because I’m running out of batteries.

A Note From The Road

Spent yesterday at the Ann Arbor Art Fair. That’s where I encountered this Foxite. It was tempting to jump into the shot, but then I remembered guarding David Onley on the sidewalk in front of Citytv while he was doing weather reports. I resisted, but it took every ounce of willpower.