My family fled the city in 1970.
After my sister witnessed an attempted rape as she walked home from school, and after listening to my recaps of daily horror stories from school. After I was accosted by a pervert while riding my bicycle around the block, and after it was no longer safe to walk to the corner candy store owned by a friendly old man who enjoyed serving his young, pre-teen customers, but grew very tired of dealing with mouthy, belligerent, disrespectful, and threatening high school students.
After my mom sobbed to my father that she'd take my siblings and I away and live in tent without him if dad didn't get us out of there, we left and never looked back.
Mom was terrified, and my mother didn't terrify easily.
My parents were able to get a second mortgage to buy a new home in the suburbs before their home in Detroit was sold. My childhood two story brick house in Detroit remained vacant for over a year. It was finally sold in 1971 for less than half of what it was actually worth to a couple who qualified for a government sponsored mortgage at 2.2% interest. My parents were paying over 6%. This was before the development of Fanny Mae and Freddy Mac.
My tree lined street, sun dappled sidewalk childhood neighborhood is an angry, gray, crime infested shell now, never to return.
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