trampled april 26th 2017

a while back i stopped posting the word trampled and jsut started using dates an i thik i lost a number of you....


so it is the end of april at 628pm. todays work started around 6am. remember - the original lie was that work would only be from 7 to 330 each dya, and generally not on satudays.

yes - the original lie.

so the noise starts at 530am most days. loud metal noises - like cement being dropped into empty metal truck bins. then by 630 the cranes are running and then every other fucking thing is beeping.....and that, today, is still going on. like most days. they are working till 7 or so....so each day, for more than 12 hours, we hear the construction. we feel the waves of vibration go through the house. they work on saturdays too. usually from 6am to 4pm. and because they cut down the forested areas - we now hear all the loud noises the building air conditioners ect make.

24 hours a day it is loud here now. 12 plus hours of construction noise an vibration, and 12 hours of building noise. why is this happening in the middle of a residential area ??


i took some time off of posting - life matters to deal with. a sick brother in the hospital and many important issues at work. also trying to get yard work done - hoping to spiff things up as best we can so maybe someone will walk by this summer and exclaim, as they usually do, "your house is so lovely - are you ever going to sell it?". at which point we can tell them Yes - we are taking offers.....



read a lot today about how low frequency noise makes people and animals physically ill. INFRASOUND - the vibrations of sound your ears cannot hear but your body can feel.


how to stay positive and upbeat? bought more flowers for the front porch. trying to stay away from home.....all those people who suggested we jsut stay at work longer hours.....the people who do not live right near us......12 fucking hours a day of beep beep and vibrations and heavy trucks. i am trying to envision a place where all will be well again. it's probably in a diff city.

anthology of a friendship

Windy Weber

August 29, 2010 · 

anthology of a friendship - i step on you, you sting me back

it's summer. we work in the garden every sunday in the summer. and in all my free time. i don't do much else. so today, like all sundays, we watered the flowers, deadheaded plants, picked tomatoes, drank beer, and enjoyed the day. we'll be outside by noon and stay out till midnight, bbqing for dinner and getting far too much sun. every sunday i plant a few new flowers, plant a few seeds for flowers, weed the garden, and watch the bees.

oh my friends the bees! the big fluffy ones are my favorites - they buzz so loudly and have those wonderful fat yellow pouches of pollen on their legs. they are responsible for all the beautiful things growing in our yard, and all of our vegetables growing and ripening all over.

i love the bees. i paint pictures of them. i sing to them. i do not swat them and i pull them out of the dog water bowl when they fall in. i think of them as my friends.

as we all know, friendships can fall on hard times.

today, after weeding, watering, watching birds, and getting ready to start the grill, i, the lover of bees, got stung. barefoot in the grass, like every sunday all warm year long, i stepped on a bee.

oh god - it is that immediate whole body instinct that something is extremely wrong. my foot landed on it and it stung me on the bottom of my left foot baby toe, causing my entire foot to clench up and me to scream. really scream - out in the yard. i knew what it was - in a high pitched frightened and injured voice i told carl i had been stung by a bee. he replied that he saw one come up out of the grass as soon as i lifted my foot.

i hobbled to the house - carl was right next to me and opened the door. he said he'd get the tweezers and pull out the stinger for me. i sat down in the bathroom and tried to let him look at my foot, but i felt as if i could not uncurl my toes. the pain was intense. it made the bone in my toe feel like it was on fire. i was instantly sick to my stomach and crying. carl pulled my toes away from my foot, looked all over, and saw no stinger. he got me an ice cube. i cried like a baby. the pain was awful, and i was scared. i have not been stung by a bee since i was 5 years old. my mom and i were in the truck going through the drive through at the bank when it happened - the bee had landed on the seat and i set my leg on it. she, too, had rushed to get me an ice cube for it. i was not allergic at 5 years old, but that was a long time ago.

after i dried my tears and put some hydrocortisone cream on my toe, i went back outside. the whole side of my foot ached - the bone still felt as if it were on fire. it did not swell up, and i'm glad about that. it's been more than 3 hours now, and i can walk, but i am still sick to my stomach. maybe from that adrenaline rush, from that few seconds of intense fear and pain.

i guess i'll have to wear shoes from now on in the yard, although i mostly feel that in a few weeks i will have forgotten and i'll just take my chances again, hoping no more bees sting me in the future. but i also think that is kind of a lesson in life about friends - you can hurt each other on accident, and you can sting back in retalliation - on accident. we're all just trying to live our lives.

the story of t rex

the story of t rex

July 1, 2013 at 7:56pm

it's been raining for days now. days. and the whole household is feeling the boredom of being stuck inside the house. eva has developed some new neurosis - she has decided that rain and thunder are constant companions, and since she is now afraid of thunder, all rain is potentially bad, and she refuses to go out in it. to get her to use the grass - i actually have to go out into the yard with her, like a living security blanket against loud noises. 

there should be a remedy for this malaise - some easy fix for the rainy week blues. it does seem from my life experience that music of some kind should be inserted here - something to sooth the soul and relieve me of the melancholy i'm accruing. but, music is not always a joy for me. it is not always a companion for happy times, for life affirming events. 

sometimes music is sad. 

for me, music is attached to everything. every thing. every single thing i touch, or hear, or think about or say. it is all music. except for a while after my mom died, when there was no music. there was no sound, really, except for crying, and the racing of my heart with each panic attack. but normally - it is all music. so naturally, when good things happen there are songs attached. conversely, though, it means when sad things happen, there are songs attached. 

many years ago, when my parents were both still alive, so the late 90s, 97 or 98, i was working at a record store that was not my own. i had been there a few years, and was accustomed to the poor people who sold records, the local bands who sold records, the junkies in need of cash who stole and sold records. i saw, daily, an incredible stream of used vinyl filter in the door, and often times had first crack at any of the things i wanted to buy. in the case of it being great music, and me not needing it, someone i knew was always ready to get that call - the great call about some hard to find album they had been dying for. holy cow did i see a lot of records come and go. 

how did all this start? when did this music obsession begin? the constant need for an accompaniment of sound, the shutting off of the rest of the world to only hear the lyrics of daydreams? i have some points to highlight, i know mostly how it all came to be. 

family. it was family. starting with my mom loving bob dylan, and my siblings constantly playing music and going to concerts. CONSTANTLY. which, for someone like me, who loves music, is a good thing. 

my siblings are all older. their influence on me was huge. i heard a lot of neil young, emerson lake and palmer, jimi hendrix. boston, blue oyster cult. music was on non-stop in our house. thanksgiving day parties with arlo guthrie as the main course. my siblings, and their friends. 

my brothers had a friend name joe, we called him joey, and he lived down the street less than a mile. it seems like he was always there, in the time line i mean, and so he in my mind is like a third brother. he and larry were so close. he liked glam rock in the early 80s and loved to get dressed up. he was friends with the guys in seduce and went to the bar every weekend to see bands. he dated my sister for a little while, and on occasion baby sat me when needed. i remember one halloween when he stopped by after i had come home from trick or treating - he was dressed up as a pirate in these tight white satin pants and a black frilly shirt, with make up and a pirates hat. he had a big beer mug full of coins, because back then you could go out as an adult and get change from people and they would not yell at you or tell you off. joey stopped by to have a drink and visit my mom and talk about life. 

i was about 14 when my brother larry came home to visit from florida, and i got to hang out with the guys - who, at that time, were about 26. they seemed like rock stars to me - they traveled, they went to concerts, they were cool. and while larry drove down the street, he and joey snorted coke off a cassette tape case in the car. yep, while driving and with their 14 year old sister in the car. it seemed normal to me - that was how life was lived. 

you see, i grew up surrounded by people with addictions - drugs, alcohol, sex, speed, violence - it almost seemed as if my family was a magnet for the wildest people on earth, and it was all a big game to everyone involved. adrenaline - how much can you pack into each second of each day? how high can you get, and how high can you get next time? this was all topped off by the fact my parents were skydivers, and all their friends loved to jump out of planes. what a wild ride my life has been. 

so yeah, joey and larry and billy partied a lot. and listened to music. in fact, t rex was joey's favorite. in the late 90s, working at that record store for someone else, i thought of him over and over. how may times i wanted to call him and say, "oh my god, joey - the most incredible t rex albums are coming into the shop! you have to come see them!! imports, picture discs, stuff no one here has ever seen!!". but instead i called my friends and told them about the awesome cache of albums coming in, and we all bought t rex albums and listened to them screamingly loud and sang along. it was extremely good times!!

at christmas that year, i drove past joey's house on my way back from the mall. i had been out christmas shopping, and on my way home i passed his house and my parents house, but did not stop. even though he was only 4 or 5 houses from the corner i was at, i just kept driving. i'll call him later, i said to myself. he'll be around. 

i got home, and did some things, who knows what now that it has been so many years, and then i called my mom, who was not home. instead, my dad answered the phone. he started telling me my mom was really sick, that she had this incredible drinking problem and was addicted to pills, and since dad was the one who always lied and made up stories and was the true alcoholic, i did not believe him. but then he said, "you know, if she is not careful she is gonna go POOF! like joey - and she'll be gone." 

i said "dad what do you mean poof like joey?", and he told me that joey had over dosed on heroin the night before and was dead. the whole world stopped spinning. 

those records, all those t rex records, the ones joey would have loved - he did love, until his need for heroin over took him. those records were his - he had been giving them to a friend to sell to the shop i worked at so i did not see him coming and going, so i was shielded from his addiction and all the evils that went with it. 15 years ago i was 26 so he would have been 38, and he had lost his hair, gotten very out of shape, and was a manager at a burger king. his life had gone nowhere, and he was finally tired of being the bald overweight faggot that managed a burger king. he had let his addiction take over, and take his life. 

i called my friends. i asked them to be as kind to the records they had bought as they could be, because those records had belonged to someone who to me was family, and i told them all the story. i asked them that if they ever decided to sell those records - would they please sell them to me, so i could have a little piece of joey back. they all said yes. it's never come up in conversation again - i think out of respect they never will give them up, and i'm okay with that. or, maybe they are trying to keep my heart from breaking even further. 

i love t rex records. love them. all the imagery, all the fairy tales and beautiful things, all those guitars. and for all that love there is some sadness, no matter how hard i try to block it out, or not feel it - every time i hear t rex i think of joey, and i miss him. 

in the midst of too many days of rain all in a row, of being melancholy and inward facing, i think of those i have lost, and of their connection to me, and my life, and my love of music. and i just listen to the rain. 

when the end of summer reminds you

when the end of summer reminds you

WINDY WEBER·MONDAY, AUGUST 22, 2016

it rained on saturday, a couple diff times, and yet the humidity still had not cleared. weeks and weeks of high 80s and above with high humidity had dominated ths summer, and supposedly the end was near on saturday. i sat, in the house with no central air, and waited for carl to get home from a full day of work. we've both been so tired, and out of sorts, as have the dogs - not too much time outside, our schedules are a mess, too hot for dog walks and our aching bodies have just not wanted to go on them anyway.

carl got home, and we had a drink. waited. lounged around. took the dogs on a short loop, and decided that yes - we could stay awake long enough to go across the street and visit with our neighbors, who were having a gathering to celebrate the coming change in weather, and our friendships.

our neighbors - our friends. we never knew what it was like to have such great people live near us till we moved here. 20 years in dearborn heights and the only real friends we had there became drug addicts and were killed by gunfire while delivering drugs......so this whole "neighbors as friends " thing was new to us. but these people - how did we get so lucky?

we were certainly late to the party, by only 10 pm, but still glad to be there. we laughed as we talked about the neighborhood "pteradactyl" that would make us call each other in feeble attempts to save the koi in back yard ponds. while a joyous thing to see blue herons coming in from the ford estate, we all knew they were only coming for free lunch at our backyard's expense. i told them "this is how i know you are my friends - you agree with me that this is a dinosaur and you don't make fun of me about it!!"

we laughed a lot. we had good coversations as the breezes finally brought in the cool dry air we had been waiting for for almost 2 months. our gardens were pitiful, the rabbits and squirells had stolen all that we grew, but we had each other, our dogs, and our health to be joyous about. it was the first time all summer we could spend time with them - as we'd been consumed for almost 3 months with having to relocate our business.

so much work. 7 weeks of getting ready, and then moving, and then putting it all back together. sore bodies, sore minds. an absolute disconnect from everything that is normal.

we bid good night to our friends, and went to bed, knowing that on our day off, our only day off, we had 2 house calls to make to look at records for store stock.

i love selling records - it is the only job i have ever done. 28 years now - something carl was just telling me i need to promote more - that i am the only female record shop owner in detroit, and most certainly the only woman who has been selling records for 28 years in the area. it's not about the money - and thank god - because there hardly is any....those of us in the biz are here because we love music, and to me the joy comes from helping people find a record they really want, to hear music they really love,and to help them find new music that will make their world a better place. i go to great lengths to make this happen, and put up with a lot of bullshit and weird stuff.

now it's sunday at noon. we're about to leave to go to fenkel and greenfield. i can hear my sisters in the back of my head - "do you have a gun? - you need to take a gun!!", "did you tell anybody where you are going, give them a phone number, make sure they call you to make sure you got home in one piece?", and i run though my thoughts of should i call a neighbor and tell them to check on us.....or at least come by and see if the dogs are okay......carl reminds me to charge my cell phone, and we take the hand drawn directions to the hood we're traveling to.

the phone call came in mid july. a man who had been in the service overseas in the 60s had 3 footlockers full of jazz and r&b - did we want to come see them? carl said yes, but we had to wait because we were moving the shop and simply could not do it right when he called. he said he'd wait. on the way to his house, we passed a lot of old, lovely, huge houses, brick houses, with gorgeous windows and big lots and houses next to them that had exploded, or been burnt out. we got to the block before his, and all the houses were boarded up and burned out. i was thinking about the gun my sisters said i should have.......and then we turned onto a block was that was lovely - beautiful well cared for homes with great landscaping and heavy wrought iron security doors. we parked in the drive and were ushered into the back door by the man selling his collection.

let's see - if you saw miles daivs in copenhagen in 1963, or there abouts, then you do the math and see that this man was near 80 years old. this tall man, with hardly any grey hair, and fewer wrinkles, and who stood tall and proud, was near 80 years old. seemed impossible, but by his stories it was true. and by his records it was also true. the collection was not as nice as we had hoped - lots of common things we could not use, or did not want to take with us, and some family members records thrown in too that were hard to find but unplayable blue notes and impulse lps........and we spent maybe 75 minutes talking with him and his wife - they were moving due to an inability to make it comfortably up and down the stairs these days - bad knees. they were nice people - kinda distant, kinda reserved, and at the end carl made them an offer.

"hmmmm, i expected more than that. what are you giving me per record? i expected more than that, becuase the man who came to buy them before you did took fewer records and paid me far more........"

god damn it. i mean - really? you said you'd wait for us till we could come out and see them, but then you called someone else and sold the best part of your collection to someone else.

and when his wife described the guy - we just shook our heads.

again, because of having to move the store, we got screwed out of something we should have had first crack at. should have had the ability to make happen. should have. and didn't.

we explained that had we known someone else had been there we woudl have never come. that our offer stood, and if he did not want to sell he did not have to. he ended up agreeing, and we took the records and left. frustrated and stirred up all over again about how our summer turned out.

then we drove down greenfield to dearborn. damn - i'm glad i do not live north of warren off greenfield. the road is utter hell to drive on, and the side streets all look abandoned. it's all so tired and neglected. and then you literally cross a set of tracks and it all changes. as you come up to warren - everything changes. the building signs are in arabic, and the streets are clean. eveything is painted calm colors, and the grass is mowed. it looks lived in.

we made jokes at the corner of warren and greenfield - that we needed to take pictures for those times we are dragged into ridiculous conversations about "is dearborn under sharia law?", because we sat at the light looking at an adult novelty shop, a tattoo parlor named mary janes that had rastafarians painted on the walls, and diners touting meat sandwiches. there may have even been a topless bar. but - it was all clean, and was a far cry from what we had just driven through.

we made our way to michigan ave, and then down to clark. we were on our way to mexicantown, but even then, just a little north of it......thankful to be going in the day time on a sunday when most people are in church or sleeping it off. we were going to see a woman who had too many records to put in the car to bring to us......

the streets are narrow. they are one ways. if you squinted just a tiny bit you were sure you were in chicago, south end chicago. no driveways, houses on top of each other. 7 foot high fences around them, including the front yards. we stopped at the address we were given (our phone calls were not returned - we were winging it) and a little hispanic woman, probably in her late 50s early 60s holled from across the street - "you the record people? i'm on my way!!".

she had come out of one of these houses covered in dust, and hauling stuff from out of the house to a huge pile of debris sitting along the curb. she had on a yellow shirt, which i found out later was polysester, since we talked a lot about how all clothes from all years are the same, just with new colors and new patterns on them. she introuduced herself and took us up a flight of stairs to a back bedroom full of stuff.

oh yeah, there were records. at least a thousand of them. in boxes, on shelves, on a table. there was a window that was cracked open a little, but no other airflow. she explained the records were from all sorts of people, family, renters, djs. we started looking and realized we truly should have brought gloves and a mask.

i told carl i was bringing extra allergy pills in case there was a cat, but somehow i had blanked on what condition these things might have been in. and the lady who called us - she had no idea. as in, there are things in this world you do not touch and you do not handle or move - and she was just grabbing them and throwing them around. we had to stop her from probably sending us all to the hospital.

i say all because her husband would come "babysit" us, and then her cousin, and then she would return. one of them would stand in the doorway while we looked through records. stacked like pancakes. so many good tiles warped beyond repair - kept in piles in hot rooms, or stacks that were red and purple with mold, and we carefully and slowly moved them to the side to keep looking.

do you see - do you understand now - what i mean when i say i do this job for the love of music and for the love of helping others? who would do this just for money? oh yeah - i forgot - people like the shark who got those other records before us......

i seperated piles by what i thought we could use. mold, glenn miller, glenn cambell and tito puente went in the we don't need it piles. van halen, ac/dc, and booty bass went in the other. and while we sorted and checked condition, the story unfolded.

this woman had recently buried, if i remember correctly, 3 brothers, both parents, 3 cousins, and a niece and nephew. it had started with her youngest brother, who was only 45 at the time, and then like clockwork, she said, every 3 months another one of them died. she said it was like some weird horror story or tv show - every three months. and now she was the only one left. she had a daughter who wanted her to move out of the ghetto and come live in a suburb, but she said she was born and raised inthe ghetto, and would stay there.

in between discussing clothing styles and the lack of insurance her cousins had, she told me about how members of her church come to her for psychic readings. coming from the background i do - i had no reason whatsoever to question this. she told us that she could tell right away she could trust us - that her gut said we were good people, and that if her gut had said otherwise, esp when we met out front of her house - she would have told us to leave. we talked about gut instinct, and the importance of family and friends, and then she broke down. it was the first time she cried - talking about how her mom died in her arms, and that she saw the last look and she heard the last breath and suddently was so afraid for the end of her own life. about how fast life goes, and she cried.

i cannot stand next to woman, a human being, who is obviously in such pain, and not react. i reached over and grabbed her shoulder and squeezed it, and her arm came up and she grabbed ahold of my arm and held on to me while she cried for a minute or two. carl had his back to us. these are the hardest situations to be in - this is business - we need stock for the shop - but so so many times it comes from the situation i have described - people die and leave things behind. everyone of those records had memories attached to them.....every box in that room had memories attached to it. there were 8 track tapes, boxes of spools of yard, glass ware, who knows what else.

the shelves were heavy and leaning. the table had a broken leg. we tried to balance the records in ways that they would not cause anything to collapse or give way, and in that same balancing act i talked with our host and carl finished up looking and deciding on a price. she accepted our offer, and thanked us for being good people. i asked her if she had enough support from the people in her church - because i could tell she was in need of support. some good people to lean on.

the whole place was in disarray. boxes everywhere. she had several houses to clean to get ready to re-rent, and some of them were places her family had lived in. as carl took the boxes of records down the stairs, i saw 2 beautiful wrought iron chairs in the living room. they were painted white and blue. and before i could stop myself i said "my mom had those chairs - she left them to me when she passed....." and this woman said "those were my momma and papas chairs - take them - you were so kind to me today - take them - i know they will have a good home and i have so much more stuff to deal with........." and then she talked again about her mom, and she sobbed like a baby, and i hugged her and told her she had to let it out sometimes or it would eat her alive.

i am standing, in a derelict house, in a run down and poverty stricken area of detroit, and i have in my arms the maybe 60 year old woman whose records i've just gone through, and she is shaking like the world is ending. i know that fear - i know that pain......i can feel it, again, like when it was new to me. and then she tells me that time magazine is coming to interview her, because of her psychic abilities, because of how everyone in the hood comes to her for readings, and that is ia god given gift. i'm standing in the mix of voodoo - church going crystal ball reading witchcraft. carl comes up the stairs, looks at the chairs that are now near the doorway and can tell they are now ours, and says "wow, usually we ask out turtles and frogs and planters" and the lady says she has lots of those - she will dig them out and call us back.

as we get ready to leave, she invites us to a coming bbq, and tells about the great food they will have. she says she considers us friends now, and knows she will see us again. and we shake her hand and thank her and go on our way.

i think, now, that i have written all of that out - i understand why when i got home i was drained. i revisited some extremely raw emotions i have not let myself feel in a long time. it explains why last night, all night long, i had nightmares - horrific, hollywood movie style nightmares, that scared me so badly i actually tried to stay awake to avoid them. i knew the instant i fell back alseep i'd be back in the midst of them. i thought, through most of today, tha tthey were caused by the proximity of this woman and her experiences, or by the mold i know we breathed off those records, and to some extent i'm sure they were........but i see now that i let myself FEEL something i had not felt in a long time, and my brain had trouble processing all that all over again. only this time there was no lead up - it was just an immediate face to face with the loss that has so greatly changed my own life. having your mother gone - one of life's lowest points.

we drove back on lonyo, through metal scrap yards and filthy streets. i saw arabic ladies and their children playing ball - and thought about how to me this place seemed like hell but to someone who has come frm a country of constant death and bombing the calm and stable life must be a god send, and we slowly got back to the world we are used to. michigan ave seemed so peaceful and serene, and damn - when we got home i said to carl that i had no right to complain about a single thing ever - because compared to what we jsut experienced - we live in heaven.

after the nightmares, and trying to clear the sleep from my eyes, this morning the mail came, with the letter from ford land about the upcoming informational session next week - where they will tell us all about how they are going to build 75 foot tall parking decks out our front door.......and the anxiety and fear washed back over me. we made it through the store move, and now it is time to focus on our house move. we have to go - i cannot mentally or physically live across from 5 years of construction, from buildings that will block my view of the sky and vibrations that will cause my vertigo to go wild. it's time - time to go.

life is never a steady path, never an easy course to get on and follow through. in the midst of all the plans and hopes you have, and things you think you will do so easily - life happens. and you deal with the shit as it comes. just like losing my own mom. just like having to move the shop so unexpectedly. we had a night to spend with our friends, to remember why we have loved it here so much for 6 years, and now we have to go, hopefully not so far that we won't see them, hopefully not so far as to forget a wonderful cool evening in the end of summer with people we really love.

life is short. it's time to move on.

trampled - april 12 2017

so this past weekend was rough. after non-stop noise from wed am to friday at 5pm, we had hoped to have saturday off. NOPE. the noise and rumbles started at 730 am and went till 515pm, at which point the cranes stopped and the air raid siren noise began. it went till mon am at 330........it is the sound of a huge vacuum or so it seems, and depending on where it is being used is how loud it is at our house. so we'd get 30 to 60 minutes of quiet, and 30 to 60 minutes of air raid siren. all weekend long.

to add to that - the cement dust flying off the huge piles of materials across the street was awful. 20 to 30 foot tall clouds of ground limestone and sand blowing up and across the complex. mostly, luckily, it went to the north, but when it came toward us because of wind shifts - we all had to go in the house.


yuck.

sent some emails about noise and dust - had no response.


have found since starting blog that numerous people are more worried than before - worried about my mental and emotional health. to me - creative people use ugly things to make art. i feel better letting it out. i feel better telling people on this page instead of spewing it out of my mouth over and over in person, or trying to say nothing because it is not PC to speak up against FORD......or whatever. i made an album called I HATE PEOPLE and no one really batted an eye, but i write a blog about hating FORD and everyone thinks  i've gone batshit. that's pretty funny if you ask me.


waiting to see what happens next. glad some leaves are filling in on the trees. can't wait for FORD to come plant the rest of the 1,000 foot fence line they promised to plant......


piles of rebar

piles of stuff used to make cement, and chopped up old cement

the big packing crate being used to house various things for on site construction - that tarp blows freely in the wind each day

new bright lights for working at night, like they did this last wed and thurs nights

they don't seem to care that people live over here - it is bright at night now - far brighter than it used to be

some cement haze - need to get better pics as it is still happening

beep beep beep

these cement trucks rumble and leave big billowing clouds of dust everywhere they go

back to the living room window - still got cranes out there - been there since about jan first 2017.

the new parking deck IN THE CENTER OF CAMPUS. i did not use that much zoom. it's huge.

and it is now as wide on each side - not just the side i can see - it will be square. the one across from us will be AS TALL but only 300 or less feet away (this one is about 1,000) and it will be a rectangle

big trucks. all day - big trucks. empty or full they all rumble the same.

trampled - april 8th 2017

Sat morning april 8^th 2017

the rumbling that started at 7am on wednesday finally stopped around 5pm friday night. It was incredible to get home from work and hear quiet. It made me hopeful that the weekend would be a low noise affair. But – this morning by 730am the rumbling and pulsing noise was back. As were the cement trucks coming and going. As was the dust in the air.

I have now shared with the snow woods neighborhood leader the papers i received about the wetlands permits. About the draining and filling, the new sewer work, the new road to be built atop where birds used to nest. Hey you know – it's okay – FORD is now sponsoring twice as much wetland along the clinton river as what it maintained in the area being drained on campus. About 1.5 acres instead of .7 acres. Oh how nice. Now who is gonna collect all those birds and squirrels and racoons and possums and foxes and turtles and explain to them that their new address is 35 miles away in a city called brighton?

In the past 2 weeks i received papers on the wetlands draining permit. Part of the process involved discovering info on an address i was unaware of – the actual street address for edison park. Somehow the two of them are not related in real time but you can search each of them seperately and get this info – edison park is located at the corner of elmdale and olmstead. 2401 elmdale is a 3 acre piece of land located at elmdale and olmstead – which zillow thinks is a residential property with no tax history that has the potential for being sold at some point. The marker on the map is exactly the same – but the park has no mail box – no structure = just a sign. Why was mail addressed to go to the park? It ended up with me. 10 pages of rules and regulations and mumbo jumbo and plans for the rebuild. Some decent sized sewer eqpt being installed – gonna be a lot of digging. Still wondering what was in the dirt undreneath, as i've heard a story about how one time workers dumped toxic chemicals into the ponds on campus, and only the blue gills survived. All the frogs and toads and turtles did not.

I am looking forward to the day we can sell this house and move. It could be 4 months, it could be a year or more. But the realization of living next to a piece of land filled with so many chemicals and now so many structures has no appeal. One day someone else will be happy here – i hope that some day is soon.

trampled - april 6th, 2017 part two

So what did i mean "bringing up"? What did that contractor mean by "who knows what FORD could be bringing up"?

The one thing i am happy about in regards to my bitching and complaining and causing such a commotion in the spring of 2016 is that it caused FORD to make one major change in it's parking deck pile footings. Instead of using the standard technique of vibrating them 100 foot down into the ground and then banging on them for the last 10 to 20 feet, they have been using a different technique on our side of the overhaul. They must have realized that the traditional vibration installation would destroy our homes, and so they opted to drill 100 foot deep holes in the ground. Each hole gets a huge hollow tube put into it, and that tube is filled with grout. The outside of the tube is surrounded with cement. Or maybe the other way around, but it means the piles are not being vibrated in. They are not shaking our houses into little tiny pieces.

However, this means the cranes are drilling down into the land with 100 foot augers, and the debris that comes out of each hole is then left in piles around the construction site. To dry out and blow around, to get wet and sloppy and then dry out and blow around. And that is what is interesting. The stories of how much and how many weird things FORD buried on it's property to "dispose" of them......what is down there? And where? And would any of those construction workers actually know? If they were boring a 100 foot hole into a cache of old harmful building materials – would they be told about it? Would we?

So in the midst of being thankful for my house not shaking apart, i have to wonder what is being brought out of the earth and let into the air. Besides actually seeing the cement dust and debris, and tasting it in the air and having it bother my lungs. I have a hard time with how no one else seems to even notice, or if they do – that they say nothing. But that is the norm. People not speaking up and not getting up in arms and not complaining. It's like having a neighbor who you know is being beaten and never going to the cops. Or knowing kids are being abused and just standing by because you think you can't make a difference.

I told someone this week that me standing up to FORD is like saying the Beatles were bigger than God. It's a stance that most no one will agree with.

Will add more pics later or tomorrow of all the new lights and ugly things that are popping up across from our house. The engine running loud roar in the air has now gone on non-stop for 36 hours, accompanied today by many banging metal and booming sounds. Still have not received a time line. Would love to know of an indepnedent air test company........

trampled - april 6th at 12:10 am

It's 12:10am on thursday april 6^th 2017. across the street there is construction work happening on the FORD r&d campus. There is a rumble you can hear in our house that started at 7am on april 5^th 2017 and has continued now for more than 17 hours.

During the day on the 5^th, the smell and taste of cement dust was in the air. Each time i let the dogs out, or left the house, i could taste it. It irritated my lungs. It made the dogs sneeze and their eyes run and have long thick discharges from their tear ducts. I could see cement trucks driving around across the street, and blowing clouds of dust as they drove around. The cranes, now only 3 in number that i can see, ran and rumbled and were irritating. And that is supposed to end at 330pm each day. Usually it goes till 5pm. Now it is the next day and it is still going. Our home is filled with a loud low hum and when we open any of our doors the noise rushes in. It's obviously an engine of some kind. And to accompany this night work – there are new very bright white lights in the parking lot that shine right into our house.

I wrote the FORD land managers today to ask how long this phase would last as it is causing these coughing and eye issues. I received a very cheerful email reply that said they would check into the time length of this phase and get back to me.

Anyhow – it's the middle of the night now. The parking lot looks like a scene from ET and we have to try to sleep with this noise going on. Of course i did not call the police – i'm sure they would be of no help, even though we are supposed to call in noise complaints.

Had a contractor over today who has worked in construction and old building rehab in and around detroit for almost 45 years. He said he could tell there was something weird in the air. Went on to say "FORD buried a lot of weird stuff in that ground over the years – who knows what they could be bringing up."

trampled april 1st part 2

April 1^st part two, 2017

we went for a dog walk on sunday march 26^th, 2017. i wanted to document a number of things that were happening in the project that week. We had recently discovered the large swath of forest that was clear cut and turned into wood chips – the swath that had previously protected 2 blocks worth of homes around the corner from us from all the noise and ugliness the FORD R&D center presented. We also wanted to see, for ourselves, all the dirt and debris and nastiness that was going on behind the blue tarping that had been hung.

We started by inspecting the trees that had been transplanted the autumn before. The trees that are supposed to be creating a sound and visual barrier btwn the homes and the project. As predicted – many of them seemed dead. Not hibernating – but dead. No one ever came to water them. The area around their trunks was still uneven and a tripping hazard, and the ground was still covered with a nasty plastic mesh that dogs had kicked up and crapped on and needed to be cleaned up and carted away but most likely would not be.

This was not a good sign for the additional 1,000 or so feet of fence line that is scheduled to have a tree filled berm. FORD is supposed to come lant and lant to help build a screen so we, as residents, do not hae to see SO much of their ugly buildings. The area needs hundreds of trees – and so far, only a tiny area has been planted.

I gently touched each tree that we visited.. I inspected them to see if it seemed as if any parts had survived. About 4 of them seemed dead. Another 3 seemed to have a chance, but we will have to wait a month or more to see.

We kept walking. We stepped up onto the top of the berm and looked over the fence. So much debris. Which, of course, i can see from the inside of my house. But for any person who wants to climb the berm and look – they can see most of it. And damn is it ugly. For a project being worked out in the middle of a community neighborhood – no thought was put into how to keep it looking presentable. It's just plain ugly and dirty and unappealing. A giant blight in the middle of our neighborhood. Immediately next to the park.

Ha ha. That reminds me – the workers - who seem oblivious to anyone ever being on the other side of the blue tarp - are incredible creatures. Swearing like sailors. And saying things like "intelligence ain't no big deal. It never helped me build anything.". I really need to use a tape recorder and tape them – the things they say are so outrageous. And they do not seem to care that f bombs are flying out of their mouths when kids are playing in the park mere feet from them.

We kept walking. Down a few street corners from us, the view changed some. It was one of 2 areas that forest was clear cut so the deck can be built. So many lost lives. So much lost wildlife habitat. I can't tell yo how many more birds are trying to nest in our hedge now that all of this forest has been cleared. And the coyote sightings have increased ten fold since the woods were destroyed. Of course they have....where are these animals supposed to live now?

this was all forest 2 months ago

In the midst of this first area is a lot of crap – a big dumpster full of coils of plastic tubing. Trash on piles of dirt. Mud all over. And then next to that area is the second area of clear cut forest. The huge mound of wood chips which previously were trees lies in bwn houses and FORD buildings, but there is no longer a sound barrier. There is no longer a sight barrier. These wood chips will be used to fill in a wetlands area so a road can be built on them......whereas it was previously only us who had to look at a building – now these 2 blocks around the corner are also facing the cranes, the dirt, the debris, and being forced to hear the noise of this project. So many lives totally changed by construction no one was expecting or knew was coming.....

i wonder, what will this do to migrating birds? What will this do to the animals who lived there who now need a home? How many wild animals will we have in our yards looking for a place to call home? And in the coming months – how much pollution will we all be breathing when the hordes of cars come to park each morning, and then drive away again at 4 or 5pm each day? Why is this happening in the midst of a residential area? Whose incredibly poor planning is now causing the demise of our health? And – will anyone listen? Will there be anyone to foot the bill for our ill health? Of course not. We are mere flies in the ointment.

this area was forest, about 60 feet deep, and completely invincible. you could not see through it. it was an amazing sound barrier. now - it is gone. 

This is how close the parking deck will be to houses and playground eqpt. Would you want your kids to play here?

the parking deck will be where the cranes are now. people live immediately next to the park. it's closer than you think. and - if you have any doubts - walk or drive over and see for yourself. in the near future - it won't be sky as a backdrop for these playground pieces - it will be parking deck. the sun will be blocked. a very final and permanent change is coming. 

this is how close we all live to the deck site. houses on the left - deck will be on the right where cranes are. 

deck will be as tall as crane behind playground eqpt. 

 edison park will no longer have a skyline - it will be over shadowed by a huge parking deck.