And so it goes.

So, first some bad news. The short version: We're not moving to Detroit.

The long version: Many of you know that Chai and I have been in various stages of making this move for the last 3 years. It started with the great revitalization buzz posted by my Michigan friends on Facebook, which led to Chai participating in an outdoor art exhibition, which led to us happening across a dream house renovation project in a transitional neighborhood with the best neighbors you could ever ask for ....

This time last year, we were as moved to Detroit as one could be without actually being there. We had made new friends, knew what was happening in the city, and felt more connected to our neighbors there than in Boulder. But we couldn't get a loan for the house renovation (for various reasons that had nothing to do with our credit or earning potential and everything to do with the state of the economy).

Fast forward to March of this year, our focus shifted from the house to me just getting me a job. And many old friends have helped out with networking and suggestions. But most of the jobs in my industry (at least the ones that require my set of skills) have turned out to be in the outer ring of burbs. And although I got some interviews, the callbacks were not many. I haven't followed up on every lead, but I've followed up on as many as I have the time and mental energy for, while still keeping my Boulder life afloat.

By mid-summer, I was so worn down by this state of limbo (and the stress it has created in our relationship) that I wasn't exactly exhibiting the enthusiastic, energetic, can-do attitude that gets one hired, much less manifests opportunity. So, in June, once we realized the Detroit house wasn't going to be completed and we sold it (to an awesome couple that made us feel so much better about letting it go because of what they will bring to the hood), we realized that we were basically back to where we were 3 years ago: a desire for a life change that would bring us more diversity, more community engagement, and more house than we are able to get in Boulder.

But one thing was different now. For most of the last 3 years, Chai has been a laid-off architect, looking to reinvent herself. Now, she has an actual business with momentum, customers, and networking support in the Denver area. Although it's not self-sustaining yet, it has things going for it that can't be picked up and moved to Detroit. And, after everything we've been through in the last 5 years, that kind of hope and growth is a lot to walk away from.

So, for the last two months, we've opened up ourselves up to the possibility of staying in Colorado but ONLY IF we could find the level of diversity, community engagement, and house that had drawn us to Detroit. We didn't know if it was here for us. But we decided to give ourselves a year to change focus and look.

Once we made the decision to switch our focus from Detroit to Denver, we targeted a few transitional but stable neighborhoods in hopes that there was a home that would offer everything we wanted from Detroit living: diversity of race, age, and income; a community engaged towards positive change; a fenced yard for the dogs; plenty of room for visitors to stay comfortably; proximity to cultural gems; and, of course, affordable. And if that list of "must haves" wasn't outrageous enough, I put my foot down on renovation. I had been game for it 3 years ago, but by now I need to reclaim the energy that would be required to live in a construction zone.

In practical terms, that means the place would require nothing more than, say, a paint job to bring it up to my live-in architect's standards for modern living in older homes. Now, neither Chai or I have EVER seen a home that meets these requirements. In fact, when we first got together, she told me flat out that she expected to renovate every home she ever lives in.

We initially focused on Five Points, an historically African American neighborhood with a soul food restaurant called, get this, "A Taste of Detroit". Now, there are a lot of cute, century-old houses there. But the ones that were already renovated were way out of our price range. So, while we had given ourselves a year for the perfect place to come on the market, I figured we'd ultimately end up compromising. Because, well, that's life.

And then this dropped into our lap ...

This 1886 Italianate Victorian in the Lincoln Park neighborhood features the charm of historic Denver with the functionality of modern living. 2232 sf with large rooms with 11' ceilings; big closets; gorgeous, remodeled, open-concept kitchen; huge 2-car garage; new landscaping; new windows; newer furnace; master bath with changing room; and 4 bedrooms upstairs all on a charming block! The spacious lot offers a sanctuary in the heart of the City. Walk to Santa Fe Art District, DAM, Pepsi Center, Larimer Square, new Mariposa Redevelopment, Auraria Campus and much more! Two light rail stations within blocks. Cherry Creek and Platte River bike paths, LoHi, Downtown, Highlands, Curtis Park, and Capitol Hill are all within minutes on a bike. Walk score of 92 and bike score of 93!

The Changing of the Guard

It is now two years since we first started thinking about Detroit as our next life destination, one and 3/4 years since we first saw the house and made an offer, just under one and 1/2 years since we closed, one year since we finished the construction drawings and picked our contractor, nine months since our lender started returning our phone calls again, six months since we emerged from couple's counseling with a renewed commitment to keep the house and just rent for however long it took to get the funds to renovate it, and two months since we decided to let it go in hopes that someone else could do it better service.

What happened to change our minds in the last six months was basically exhaustion. We had been cut out of a lot of loan programs because we were not yet Michigan residents. But we had not pursued going ahead and leaving Colorado and establishing residency in Michigan because, at first, Chai had been dead set against renting (which seems not in her genetic code) and frankly didn't want the pain of moving and unpacking only to move and unpack again. Then, after our hopes for us getting a loan while in Colorado died, I was against picking up and moving because I was almost in a position to request to take my job to Detroit with me.

My situation at work was that my employer had been bought out by a much larger company with a small office in the Detroit area, and because our new boss is a more global company with a more geographically diverse workforce, the possibility of taking my job with me seemed hopeful. In fact, the Human Resources presentation at the orientation had advertised the flexibility of employees' hours and working locations. But I wouldn't be able to formally submit for the transfer until the merger was legally final. For months, we had had no firm date for this inevitability but it seemed distinctly possible that the merger would be done any week now. So, when we found out, it wasn't going to be possible until January 1, 2013 (another two and a half month wait), I decided to stick it out. Keeping the same sex partner bennies and nice salary while avoiding the time and effort of looking for a new job followed by the stress of getting up to speed at a new job were absolutely worth three more months wait to me to be able to officially request it. After all, we had waited over year by then.

But all this waiting (for the loan, only to see it flounder, and for the opportunity for me to request the transfer) had created a lot of tension between Chai and I. Chai's life had basically been on hold. After the tough going of the cancer treatment in 2008, followed by the slow recovery to a normal sense of herself, followed by being laid off and not being able to find any work in her field during the recession, she was feeling pretty adrift and this house was to have been something that would use her talents and return her to feeling like she was productive and making a contribution to our future. So, when the dream started withering on the vine, the disappointment was deep. She had also been building a small business and customer base and was starting to get some real traction in Colorado. But she would then have to rebuild all that in Detroit. And she wanted to get on with it.

For my part, I was not a good listener for her feelings of frustration. In fact, I took them personally, feeling as if somehow she thought I had the power to make it all better if only I changed my attitude or approach, and I resented that unwelcome responsibility. The many months of her playing the visionary and me playing the cautionary had polarized us. All of our hopes, not just regarding the house but just getting on with life, hung on what would happen next for me at work, come January 2013.

When I was finally able to submit the request, it got supported by my low-level manager, and then mired in politics and personality struggles in mid-management before it was pushed forward, and ... upper management revealed had it changed its policy about working remotely and had just not announced it: In fact, all workers would be slowly centralized onto large campuses and no smaller offices (like Detroit) would be allowed to grow. My willingness to leave if they didn't let me transfer to Detroit was just an opportunity for them to further whittle down the campuses that they didn't want to keep.

I. Was. Devastated.

Flabbergasted, I called the HR person that gave  that original, rosy presentation; he dodged it, saying essentially, "Oh that? Well, really each organization sets its own rules about where you can work from." GRRRrrrrrrassin', frassin', rickin', rackin'.

So, that brings us to late March. I was miserable, resentful, and feeling like a heel for believing the lines I had been fed by my employer. Chai was beyond exasperated with all the delays. And, running on fumes, I had to completely shift gears and focus all my energy on a job search. We were nearly two years in to the decision to move to Detroit and no closer to actually being there.

You might not be surprised if we punted on the whole thing. But we are clear on one thing: We still want to be in Detroit. We just need to take a fresh run at it. And we need to re-prioritize. Get the job and rent until we find a smaller house project (both in terms of square footage and scope of work required). Yes, Chai was willing to rent. This was a big compromise on her part, and I appreciate it. Fortunately, the duplex next door had recently been purchased and one side was available for rent. It is spacious and in good condition and has a lot of "old house" character and a nice, fenced backyard for the pups to run in. We wouldn't even have to give up our awesome neighbors. We jumped at the opportunity and signed the lease even though we would not be able to move in right away.

None of this changes the fact that ours is a great house in one of the most desirable neighborhoods in Detroit. And the neighborhood is about to get more desirable with two restaurants, a coffee house, and a tea shop going in only two blocks away. I still believe that this renovation is totally doable and worth it. It's just that because real estate values in Detroit are below construction cost, in order for a fixer upper to be affordable, owners have to be open to doing some of that construction themselves (and can live with pacing it according to their finances), or they need to have enough cash to pay someone else do it, or they need to be far enough from retirement to have time to recover their investment or rebuild their savings. That's not us.

So, recently, we let a few of the neighbors know that, with deep regret, we were going to have to let the house go, and we asked for their help in finding buyers who would give it love, make it their home, and become part of the community. The sister-in-law of one of those neighbors happens to work at D:Hive; and, within two weeks of our call for neighborly help, a really great, younger couple from Brooklyn, fresh off a sabbatical year in Ann Arbor, one of whom was about to start her new job in The D, walked in the door.

We really like them. Besides having a lot in common with us both in terms of personalities and values, they want to pick up right where we left off (architectural plans, insurance policy, and all) and see it through. We really like them. I mean, like, we would want to be friends with them even if fate hadn't thrown us together in this way.

We explained that we weren't looking to make any money on the house. We just hoped to get out most of what we had put in. The whole thing has been AMAZINGLY friendly and open. The kind of friendly that you just never hear about in money or house deals. They've read the blog. We've tried to warn them about everything we can think of so that there are no surprises or delayed bad feelings.

And since we'll be moving in right next door, we're motivated to keep them close and help them along. Just like them, we plan to make this city our home. And home is where the friends are.

So, without further ado, let me introduce our new neighbors and the Detroit house's new stewards. And continue along with the house's adventures at its new blog: http://amyhaimerl.com/detroit_house.

While you are catching up on Amy and Karl's Detroit house initiation trials, I'm headed back to looking for the job that will get us there and ground us there.

Thanks to all of our friends, family, and readers who have cheered us. Once we figure out what's next, we'll be back.

Thoughts on How the Middle Class is Shut Out of Moving to Detroit

I know I've been quiet. You all probably thought we gave up or got fed up. Truth is that there has been a lot of activity. That I haven't posted about it is largely due to my loss of sense of humor about the less-than-satisfying developments. In the last months, we got ignored by the one and only lender that had been willing to talk to us; reassigned to two different loan officers; then, because of all the time that had passed, had re-submit all the paperwork and applications; only to spend $400 on and wait for weeks for a very disappointing appraisal. In the meantime, Chai and I started disagreeing about how to proceed, mostly due to our very different coping styles for and tolerance levels for stress. I'll spare you the blow-by-blow and let it suffice to say that we ended up in 5 weeks of couples' counseling and briefly diverted to a Plan B (cutting our losses and finding a different house to buy that doesn't have all the gotchas).

I've kept copious notes about the financing saga, which I hope to find time to write up in this blog. But since we are fresh off elections and still have politics in mind, I have a few thoughts about the obstacles that keep people like us from moving to Detroit. (And, by "people like us", I mean, middle class folks who work for a living and have good credit, some savings to put into a home, and a desire for meaningful community involvement that trumps the common sense motivation to pick a house based on its financial investment potential.)

One More Time, With Feeling

I came back from our June trip to Detroit pretty despondent. I practically refused to talk about the house with Chai. She was ready to plan out next steps and I couldn't see past the dollar signs blocking our path. Most of the time, I was so stressed about it that I felt like throwing up. Every time Chai would bring up the topic, I'd get defensive and pissy--mostly because it was hard for me to have any sort of back-and-forth when I didn't know myself where I stood anymore.

I mean, I still loved the city and I still loved the house. I couldn't see giving up on the prospect of a life there--especially considering that our West Village neighbors already felt even more like real neighbors than any place I had ever lived before. But the cost of the renovation was freaking me out. I couldn't see where the money was going to come from and what kind of long term impact that debt would have on our lives.

What would it mean for us if we didn't go? I mean, aside from the fact that we would let all of our new and old Michigan friends down. Aside from that we would have blown at least $35K in cash so far and would still be saddled with what would then be an albatross of a house. We'd still be stuck with the problem that we don't want the life we have in Colorado anymore and something has got to give.

HDC says, "Advance to 'Go'"

The post is part three to the "Shit's Gettin' Realz" series. To read part two, click here.

It's easy to come to Detroit, with so many of its architectural treasures decaying or torn down, and assume that the people there don't appreciate what they have. Or, perhaps, think, like so many European post-colonialists, that the natives are simply ill-suited to care for what they've inherited. Most cross-cultural stupidity comes down to an overblown sense of oneself and a lack of knowledge of the other.

I didn't know what to expect from the Historic District Commission. Many of our non-Detroit friends figured that Detroiters would be thrilled to have someone want to restore a historic home and that they would gratefully grant us free license to do what we wanted without quibbling about details. But, with that aforementioned sensitivity in mind, I thought that pretty unlikely. What I was concerned about, knowing the history of  corrupt power dynamics in Detroit politics and the dwindling resources in the city, was that anyone with any amount of authority would milk it for all it was worth.

Considering the direction the initial conversations were going with the HDC staff about our application, my concerns were not assuaged. Maybe the entry portal and balcony we proposed were historic but they weren't historically appropriate for our house. Sure, the windows needed replacing, but we would be expected to replace them with rebuilt, wood sash windows (which are very expensive and energy inefficient) even though our neighbors clearly had modern windows in their historic homes. Maybe that plywood bay was rotting but it wasn't within our rights to tear it off and fill in the wall; we would have to rebuild it, even if that meant from scratch. Oh, and the HDC staff person noticed when she went out to our property that the dead tree that was visible in the picture we submitted of the back of the house had since been removed ... with no permit. Add on a $500 fine. (Yes, we had the dead tree removed because it was rotten through and through and could have fallen on the house in a storm. Our tree guy hadn't mentioned a thing about needing to get a permit.) The only real gimme was that the HDC staff agreed that the additions on the back of the house were too badly damaged to save.

Now, I hate conflict but I'll be goddamned if anyone tries to use me as a pawn in some nickel and diming scheme. I don't care how much I love this city.

But here's what I didn't understand: There's the HDC staff and there's the HDC committee. It is the job of the staff to point out every possible, little non-compliance to the neighborhood's historic guidelines. It is the committee's job to give individual consideration, clarify policy, and grant exceptions. If anyone (neighbor, city services, or otherwise) were to ever complain about what we had done to the house and it came down to the staff person having let something slip through, that person could lose their job. It's their obligation to be captious.

Fortunately, it was the committee's disposition to be reasonable, even downright generous. Before our appearance at the June meeting, Chai and I rehearsed our presentation over an early dinner. She was the more qualified in terms of architectural lingo and background knowledge to go in front of the committee, but we both agree I've got more of, shall we say, a way with people. It's probably the dimples.

The first guy on the docket had bought a house a few blocks up from ours in an auction. He claimed a small budget and no experience renovating, or even owning, a home. As a result, he had gone about replacing all but a handful of the original, wood sash, "6 over 1" windows (a top window divided into 6 panels hung over a single panel, bottom window) with vinyl, "1 over 1" windows before the neighbors reported him to the HDC. In front of the committee, he was all apologies and explained that he really had had no idea that what he was doing was wrong. He was polite and obsequious. It was hard to be mad at him. More than the owner, the committee members were pissed at the contractor that allowed him to purchase the windows for a historic home without telling him to get a permit, since they should know better. They could have fined the owner up to $5000 and made him throw out the vinyl windows and start over (which would have cost him thousands more). But they gave him a firm talking to, a $25 fine, and a directive to restore any of the windows on the front of the house that he could by moving any compatible, salvageable windows to their openings.

This gave me hope that the committee would be as cooperative with us. But Chai was pissed that this guy got off so easy since we were going to the trouble of doing the right thing (and would pay for it) and so had many of our neighbors. I thought she was overreacting until we later found out that a neighbor had indeed approached him before he installed the windows and told him that he needed to go through the HDC first.

We heard the committee review a few more requests (for signs to be installed on commercial buildings, for a fence to keep foot traffic out of a yard, for trees to be trimmed and/or removed etc.), then came our turn. They heard our logic about blocking up the rotting bay and one basement window and about the french doors and Juliet balcony we proposed for the newly rebuilt back wall of the house. There was some discussion among themselves and a few questions for us, and a bit of confusion on my part. Turns out that they were fine with what we were proposing and, if anything, were worried about our modifications looking too historic. They were glad we were preserving what we could of the home but didn't want future generations to look at the house and mistake our renovations as original. That actually gave us more freedom to make some less costly and stylistically unique choices that could give the place a tasteful, little, eclectic pop. Schweet.

Last came the fine for tree removal. All I could do was apologize. It had never occurred to me that "do not touch the exterior without a permit" included the damned trees. And our tree guy, who came recommended by someone who works for the city's forestry department, mentioned nothing about it. They wanted to know what kind of evidence we could give them that this was a tree that they would have granted a permit for anyway. We showed them the picture of the 12-ish foot tall, leafless trunk that used to be there and explained that our tree guy had found it to be so soft that he could poke his finger into it and feel it give way. In the end, they were OK with us having removed it and didn't even really want to give us a fine (considering everything else we were doing at considerable expense and by the book). But they had given the other permit violator a $25 fine and felt they had to be consistent. I could live with that.

As if.

We left with the understanding that they would grant our building permit once we had submitted pictures of the proposed changes to the details they wanted us to make less historic and we had paid our fine. We left relieved and went to Cliff Bell's to celebrate with a drink and, for one night, not think about where we going to get the money for this project. (We left, I mean, after first paying, $18 for 3 hours in the parking structure! Turns out that the posted rates were old and, based on how abandoned the garage was at that time of day, everybody but us seemed to already know it. Sheesh. Where we come from, on-street parking is more expensive than the structures. But I should know by better by now that, in Detroit, we shouldn't take things at face value because they are usually completely different from how we are used to thinking about them.)

While we were sipping cocktails and the marathon HDC meeting went on into the night, our rock star neighbors were forming a flash mob at the end of our street to stop what appeared to be scrappers making off with our hood's Elgin Marbles. If you aren't familiar with the Elgin Marbles, they were major architectural features in the Parthenon, to which the British Ambassador to the Ottoman Empire helped himself in the first decade of the 19th century. He had discovered that some other architectural sculpture had been ground up for its valuable lime content, and kindly "rescued" the remaining pieces from a similar fate by shipping them off to a British museum. The British parliament were not immediately enamored with these ratty, old things and didn't want to pay for their transport and storage. In the end though, they recognized their value and gave them "asylum" under a "free government". How thoughtful and selfless.

West Village has its own iconic piece of architecture, right at the gateway to the neighborhood. It is a 10,000 sf mansion that started life as the home of the owner of the Finck's overalls company (which later became Carhartt), has been a home to a famous fashion designer, was a restaurant for a time, and has sat mostly empty in recent years. One older neighbor claims that the Beatles and Mick Jagger once stayed there. It recently escaped foreclosure with a cash purchase by a Findlay, Ohio millionaire. The new owner had had contractors inside the house for a couple of weeks. Nothing suspicious about that, but the neighbors were curious to say the least. We had noticed the workers in the yard over the last couple of days and felt hopeful that something positive was being done with the place. But when the neighbors saw them removing the wrought iron balcony and decorative limestone features from the exterior and placing on palettes for transport, they flew into action.

As Chai and I had just learned quite well, nobody touches the exterior of a property without a permit from the HDC. The police came and put the workers in the tank until they figured out who the owner was. The new owner claimed he was merely temporarily removing these items to repair water damage and intended to fully restore the place. However, an anonymous tipster from the contracting company revealed that the owner, experienced with historic renovations in his hometown, intended these items for his private lake house. I'm sure he thought they'd be more appreciated there.

This is just a reminder of how people, looking from the outside in to Detroit, read the fatalistic stories in the national media and assume the city is closing up shop and having a fire sale. Despite appearances, people live in the city quite happily. Our treasures are not up for ransacking. If the signs of urban decay are anything, they are a reminder that it takes a collective to accomplish anything of scale. In the past, people expected that collective to be embodied by government. But government doesn't have the resources to keep up anymore. And Detroiters, after decades of failed promises and faltering attempts, are wary of rich saviors and quick fixes.

And here we are again, back to what I love about the city. It's all "do it yourself", and by "yourself" I mean the plural you--you the neighbors, the community organization, the social network, not just the individual. One returning Michigander said it best: “This city, man, you’ve got to leave your ego at the door. If it’s about you getting famous, or you moving ahead, then you’ve picked the wrong city because you will be sniffed out within moments.”

Stay tuned for the next post in the "Shit's Gettin' Realz" series in which I think my way out of my hyperventilation paper bag.

A Very Detroit Problem

This post is part two in the "Shit's Gettin' Realz" series. Click here to read part one.

Here's the thing about navigating the experience of Detroit: What are normal, reasonable assumptions often turn out to be quite wrongheaded and yet serendipity seems to be built into the social fabric of the place. This is how you can buy a historic house for $7500, within a week meet 20 people who genuinely make you feel like you matter, and still wonder what the frick you have gotten yourself into. How things work here reminds me a little of the Mad Hatter's tea party except that everyone is pulling up a chair for you.

By late April, Chai had finished the final tweaks on the architectural drawings and we had gathered 6 names of contractors from neighbors and local architects we have met. Six seemed like plenty, and so we sent out the drawings for bids. Weeks passed. Crickets chirped. Planets spun on their axes. And we got nearly no response to first emails and to second emails. We were baffled--I mean, we wanted to throw 10s of thousands of dollars of work to people in an economically depressed area. You'd think that would be a welcome opportunity, right?

First free-fall jump from a plane - June 21, 1914

Thanks to earlyaviators.com

On June 21, 1914, Miss Georgia "Tiny" Broadwick, demonstrates air-jumping techniques to the US Army in San Diego, CA, by pulling her release manually and becoming the first person to make an intentional free-fall parachute jump from an airplane. (Thanks to northnet.org.)