Cindy on April 14th, 2010
There’s no place like home,
there’s no place like home,
there’s no place like home.
– L. Frank Baum, The Wizard of Oz
When I started freelancing in the 1980s, I was lucky enough to meet one of my dearest friends, John Schultz, at my hometown paper. At the time, John was editor of the Daily Tribune‘s business section.
I was typically assigned to review plays and to cover local art events. But once a week, John would coax me away from the lifestyles section to write about small businesses in Royal Oak and nearby suburbs. From alternative clothing boutiques to quirky little diners that had been serving burgers since the 1950s, every one of those places had its own charm and a story. That’s how I earned my first weekly column at a daily paper — and I’m forever grateful to John for that chance. It was a terrific way to define my sense of place while learning more about my community.
Few journalists know the heart and soul of this community better than John Schultz. With co-author Maureen McDonald, John takes readers on a journey through our beloved town’s history in Royal Oak, a gorgeous new book in Arcadia Publishing’s Images of America Series.
A longtime Royal Oak resident, John told me that researching material for the book was almost like tracing his own family’s roots. He and Maureen (photo below) spent months poring over historic photos and researching records from our public library, the Royal Oak Historical Society, and the Daily Tribune.
Brimming with vintage photos, their book explains how Michigan’s first governor, Lewis Cass, signed a treaty with the Chippewa in 1819 and rested nearby with companions under a swamp oak a few miles north of Detroit. The area eventually became a village in 1891. Named for the oak tree rooted in its early history, Royal Oak was officially a city in 1921 — just five years before my own house was built in this neighborhood.
“Royal Oak is a town that has endured,” John reminds me. “It’s a place kids love growing up in and one adults wished they had.”
Today, as John likes to boast, our “City of Trees” is home to William Beaumont Hospital (one of the nation’s top-rated medical centers) as well as a world-class zoo. We’ve also got a lively downtown arts community, the coolest sidewalk cafes, and dozens of restaurants to choose from. And as if that’s not enough, there’s the historic Hermann’s bakery, where you can sample the best oatmeal cookie in the Midwest. Can you tell I’m proud — of my town and my friend?
To learn more, you absolutely have to buy the book. Meanwhile, I hope you’ll visit your local library to read as much as you can about your own hometown and neighborhood. Nurture your sense of place and celebrate the gifts of community. Learn the stories and pass them on. — Cindy La Ferle
For more information on the new Royal Oak book, and to purchase copies, contact John Schultz at johnsschultz@sbcglobal.net or look for “Royal Oak history book” on Facebook. If you live in the area, don’t miss these book signings: April 26 at the Royal Oak Public Library (7 p.m.); April 30 at the opening of the Royal Oak Historical Society Museum (7 p.m.); May 2 at the Royal Oak Historical Society Museum (1-5 p.m.). See you there!
Cindy on January 1st, 2010
And now, let us welcome the New Year/ Full of things that have never been.” — Rainer Maria Rilke
It’s perfect — how the month of January is named for Janus, the Roman god of gates and entrances, beginnings and endings. With his two heads facing opposite directions, Janus inspires us to look backward and forward as we step over the threshold and begin again.
Last year was a year of change and transition for me and my small family.
My only child, who moved to Chicago after graduating from college in 2008, purchased his first condo in the summer. On moving day, his dad helped him haul boxes up and down the elevator of his new residence while I organized his kitchen. Unpacking my son’s dinnerware and utensils, I recalled other “firsts” in his young life. First day of kindergarten. First formal dance with his girlfriend. First day of driver’s ed. First day of college at Notre Dame. How quickly those days flew off the pages of our family calendar.
Meanwhile — almost overnight — my widowed mother lost her old spark. Independent for years, she began forgetting things. Important things. She forgot that certain people in her life had died. She forgot phone conversations we’d had the day before. When tested by the neurologist, she couldn’t recall the name of the county we live in, or what day of the week it was. Not surprisingly, in November she was diagnosed with early stage dementia — a diagnosis that immediately reordered my priorities and changed the shape of my days.
Looking forward; looking back. My son moves ahead with his new life in Chicago while my elderly mother’s world grows smaller and smaller. Clearly, the seasons of family living are unfolding exactly as they should. And despite the inevitable heartache, I find myself feeling deeply grateful for every step, stumble, or leap that brought me to this path, this life of mine.
As a freelance writer with a supportive husband, I’m lucky to have the flexibility to help my mother when she needs me. Impromptu trips with Mom to the doctor’s office or the emergency room aren’t fun — but they’re not as much of a challenge now as they would have been when I had office jobs.
Still, there’s no denying that it’s been a very tough year for every writer and journalist I know. If there’s a silver lining in any of it, the sad state of journalism here in Detroit forced many of us to try markets we’d neglected or overlooked when we were employed full-time or working other assignments. Out of necessity in 2009, I developed new writing workshops. I worked harder at promoting Writing Home. I outlined a viable idea for a new book project. Several of my personal essays were published in national anthologies and magazines. Best of all, a piece I wrote about my Zen garden was accepted for the March/April 2010 issue of Victoria — a lifestyle magazine I’ve read and admired for years. Regardless, freelance writing is a crazy business, so I’m forever grateful to my local writer pals and support groups for keeping me (somewhat) sane last year.
Typing these notes, I’m also overcome with gratitude for all of you who read my reflections here. Your comments and support always cheer me. And I apologize for not visiting (and commenting on) your blogs and Facebook walls as often as I wish I could. Too often lately, real life has made it impossible to spend as much time on my computer.
I’ll be offline for most of next week too. It’s time to pull down the Christmas decorations and begin the ritual of clearing out things I no longer need — holiday treats and leftovers; old clothes and grudges; bad attitudes. Getting started this morning, I opened our front and back doors to let the old year out and welcome the new one inside. It’s an old Celtic custom that’s still praticed in parts of Ireland and Scotland, and it makes perfect sense to me. The first cold blast of January wakes me up and hurries me back to work.
So there you have it. Doors opening and closing. Endings and beginnings. I wish you all a peaceful, healthy start for your own new year. — Cindy La Ferle
Cindy on September 15th, 2009
“The foliage has been losing its freshness through the month of August, and here and there a yellow leaf shows itself like the first gray hair amidst the locks of a beauty who has seen one season too many.” — Oliver Wendell Holmes
Returning from a family visit in Chicago, I realized this morning that I’ve fallen way behind in my blogging. Since early September, I haven’t had much time to visit favorite blogs — nor have I had a spare minute to edit a new post I wrote about “rediscovering” high school classmates on Facebook. While I was away, my mother’s dentist called to ask if I noticed that my mother is showing additional signs of dementia — so dealing with that prickly issue remains a priority. Coincidentally, a column I wrote about caring for my mom during another health crisis appears in the current issue of Michigan Women’s Forum. Meanwhile, I’m preparing for some local writing events that start up next week. The blogging will have to wait while real life unfolds. Please don’t think I’ve forgotten you … I’ll be back soon! – CL
Cindy on April 30th, 2009
“There’s only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that’s your own self.” — Aldous Huxley
Every time our walls give way to a sledgehammer, I’m reminded that change of any kind is never easy. Whether you’re updating a vintage kitchen or trying to lose a few pounds before hitting the beach, “self-improvement” takes time and patience. That’s my topic in this week’s Midpoint column in The Oakland Press. To read the column, click here. Meanwhile, I’d love to know: What changes are you working on this spring? — CL
Cindy on April 16th, 2009
“My father used to say that when you die, if you’ve got five real friends, then you’ve had a good life.” — Lee Iacocca
By the time we turn 50, we’ve established a complex social network of neighbors, friends, relatives, coworkers, and colleagues. At some point during midlife, we begin to reconsider some of those relationships — and where we need to devote our attention. We might try to reconnect with friends from high school or college. Or discover that we’ve outgrown a few relationships we enjoyed in the past. While midlife is all about growth and change, cutting old ties is never easy. Read about it in this week’s “Midpoint” column in The Oakland Press, then share your thoughts on how friendship evolves over time. — CL
Previous “Midpoint” columns are archived under CATEGORIES in the panel at right.
When I started freelancing in the 1980s, I was lucky enough to meet one of my dearest friends, John Schultz, at my hometown paper. At the time, John was editor of the Daily Tribune‘s business section.
Brimming with vintage photos, their book explains how Michigan’s first governor, Lewis Cass, signed a treaty with the Chippewa in 1819 and rested nearby with companions under a swamp oak a few miles north of Detroit. The area eventually became a village in 1891. Named for the oak tree rooted in its early history, Royal Oak was officially a city in 1921 — just five years before my own house was built in this neighborhood.
