Big Things, And They Are Far Apart

I got off a Delta Airline flight at the Detroit Airport, and was greeted by a sign: "To get to the center of the terminal, take the train".

The Delta terminal is so big that it has a train inside it.  No, not like the Dallas or Atlanta Airports, where trains take you from one terminal to another.  The train in Detroit took me on a half-mile journey from the north end of the terminal to the middle of the terminal ---- and there is a second train that takes you the remaining half mile from the middle to the south end of the terminal.  Yes, a mile-long Delta terminal.

I had been invited to Detroit to teach a Scottish country dance workshop.  I arrived on a Friday, and the workshop was on a Saturday.  When my host and hostess met me at the airport, they asked me what I would like to see.

First on my list: Elmwood Cemetery.  As my hosts headed down the Interstate, we passed an enormous tire.  It had to be a Guinness Book Of World Records tire.  

After I oohed and aahed at the big tire, my hosts gave me the sad news: Detroit once had the world’s largest stove, but it had been dismantled.

At Elmwood Cemetery, someone in the office directed us to Lewis Cass' grave.  I wanted to visit his grave because I have impersonated Lewis Cass for my employer, Cass Information Systems. 

Approaching the gravesite, I expected a gravestone.  Instead of a gravestone, there was a towering monument.  I figured that there had been an outpouring of public grief at Lewis Cass’ death in 1866, and the grief was expressed in this big monument.

Next stop was Cranbrook, an art school with a 319-acre campus – a mighty big campus for an art school that only accepts graduate students.

I wanted to see Cranbrook because its campus is dotted with sculptures by Carl Milles.  I walked around snapping photos of his sculptures, including Jonah And The Whale, which featured a big Jonah, who was half the size of the whale that swallowed him.

I decided to go into the Cranbrook Art Museum, but it was not easy to do: the museum’s big doors, in all their art-deco splendor, were cast of bronze and weighed a couple hundred pounds each.

Once inside, I chatted with the museum’s receptionist, who turned out to be from Missouri.  She asked me what I thought of Detroit.

I said, “Detroit has big things.”

She added, “And they are far apart.”

Now I had a mantra: Detroit has big things, and they are far apart.

Whenever a local asked me what I thought of Detroit, I would use my mantra.  But the locals would then look disturbed.  I realized that the locals were disturbed because they thought I had said “Detroit has big things, and they are falling apart.”

I may never be invited to Detroit again.

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Take a tour of Detroit's urban landscape, with this rap video called "Detroit Vs. Everybody", produced by Eminem.  (6 minutes).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCdgDxQbW_U

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  Send an email to ParadiseDouglas at gmail.com to find out how to purchase a copy by mail.

The Hat That Brought Lewis Cass Back From The Grave

I spotted the hat and was about to try it on, when a guy walked into the hat shop, pointed at the hat and said: "That hat was made for you."  I hadn't quite put the hat on, and a complete stranger had given me a compliment.

So, I bought it.  I was at "Hats, Hides, and Heirlooms" in Eureka Springs, Arkansas; I had always wanted a top hat.

However, a top hat is lonely by itself.  It wants a cloak and a cane. 

Google took me on a tour of Internet cloaks, which showed me that a cloak would be inappropriate since it seems to be for people who read fantasy novels. Google pointed out that the top hat really needs a cape.   I finally zeroed on a cape that came straight out of the 19th Century. 

I took a tour of Internet canes.  Google quickly pointed out that canes are for people who have trouble walking --- and that the top hat really needs is a walking stick.  I found a walking stick with an eagle on the knob.

I already had a vest and a bow tie in my wardrobe.  I was ready to morph.  But should I morph into a generic 19th Century gentleman or a specific 19th Century gentleman?

My problem was solved when my employer, Cass Information Systems, announced a Halloween costume contest. It was clear that the top hat, cape, and walking stick belonged to Lewis Cass, because Cass Information Systems bears his name.

Lewis Cass (1782-1866) had a long career of public service.  When I put on the top hat and cape, and grab the walking stick, I wonder how Lewis Cass from the 19th Century should introduce himself to people from the 20th Century.

Perhaps: “Hello, I am Lewis Cass, congressman from Ohio.”  Or “I am Lewis Cass, territorial governor of Michigan and also twice Senator from Michigan.”

Or “Brigadier General Lewis Cass”.

Or should I wait until I see a twenty-dollar bill, and tell people: “Hey, that's my friend Andy Jackson and I was his Secretary of War.”

Or maybe if I hear someone speaking French, I could introduce myself as Lewis Cass, the ambassador to France.

I decided to introduce myself dramatically: “I am Lewis Cass, and I have come back from the grave.”

Then people can ask me who I was, and I can talk about how I lost the Presidential election of 1848 to Zachary Taylor, blaming my loss, of course, on Martin Van Buren, who split our party and thereby handed the election to Zachary.

I can reveal how I could have prevented the Civil War when I was James’ Buchanan’s Secretary of State.  I told the President to reinforce Fort Sumter, and he refused; so, I resigned.

I always tell people how popular I was. Although I never lived in the state, Missouri named Cassville after me

And Missouri named Cass County after me.  

And St. Louis named Cass Avenue after me, and Cass Information Systems is named after Cass Avenue.

I had a great time telling people that I had come back from the grave, until someone did not ask me who I was.  She asked me what it was like being in the grave.

Uh oh. I was unprepared for that question.  I told her that cellphone reception is pretty poor in the grave, but I don’t think that was the answer she was looking for.

So, now, I am no longer sure how to introduce myself.  The top hat brought Lewis Cass back from the grave, but Lewis Cass does not want to talk about being in the grave.

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Since Lewis was a Would-Be President, he has caught the attention of the Worsh Ahts, Steve Lorobec's experimental post-punk indie music project in Pittsburgh.  Here is the Worsh Ahts 2-minute Lewis Cass Song!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKvzjgyoEFo

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NOTE: Doug's best stories have been collected into a book: Puppy Out Of Breath.  Price = $11.  Send an email to ParadiseDouglas at gmail.com to find out how to purchase a copy by mail.