Peter In Detroit Book Blog
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Peter and Detroit
Peter and Detroit
Peter sits by the Giving Tree, preparing stone
soup while remembering the “Big O”, who’d rolled by this very spot on this very
street that leads to the city.
Our city is Detroit at the river. A place that pronounces liberty, yet a
community with many, many of the challenges and opportunities present in cities
all over the world. It has its own
flavor though, and tastes like a caramel-chocolate ice cream cone.
Peter is here to make Detroit the star of the
show, while it waits to find and discover its new name. In the legend of the white stone, the new
name and the hidden bread or seed, the name will be found in the stone and the
bread of life will be revealed to the hungry.
So Peter sits by his pot of boiling water, by the
roadside. The white stone rests at the
bottom of the soup to be. And it is
about to be made. Just then, his good
friend named The Dawn comes skipping up the road from the garlic patch. She loves Peter. He makes such wonderful soup and she has
known him for one third of her life.
“Peter,” she calls out. “What have you named your soup today?”
He and smiles and announces, “No name.” For this soup waits for its new name, just as
Detroit waits for its new name. It knows
it is not a fort anymore; there is nothing to protect. Old Detroit still sleeps in its dreams of
darkness and entanglements. Or so it
seems.
“I have brought you a special flower, Peter, to
put in your lovely mixture. I will be
back for a taste at dawn.” She had named
herself The Dawn many years ago. Now she
leaves a pretty budding flower, along with her pleasant scent of garlic that
she spreads around the worlds she walks in and this town along the way.
Peter watches her run off down the road. When he looks into this city of the future,
he sees fun – not mobs of people. He
sees transportation, not just vehicles; parks in place of sidewalks; gardens
where asphalt parking lots use to lie.
Peter is seeing rivers of life and vitality flowing from everywhere and
nowhere to this city by the river.
People are coming to these clean and cleansed waters with laughter in
their voices and happiness in their hearts.
Visitor #2
Visitor #2
As Peter stirs and looks into the soup, it is
always like his first day, his first time…
And now, here comes a stranger. He seems to be focused and appears to know of
the soup. He does not speak or seem to
notice Peter, but begins to deposit facts and figures into the boiling kettle
of water – adding a fine fragrance that fills the air. He seems satisfied to leave his facts and
figures to what seems now to be a brighter and lighter day for him.
Peter knows he only has a few more hours of
daylight left, and this evening will descend upon the soup and the city. Darkness often brings out the best in
folks.
Detroit is its own best-kept secret.
Visitor #3
Visitor #3
Peter’s next roadside visitor asks him what he is
doing with a budding flower in a boiling kettle of water while facts and
figures float about.
Peter simply replies, “It is white stone soup that
waits for its new name is being brewed for the people of the dawn and new
Detroit.”
The traveler stands silent and still, while he
takes this all in. He sighs in a happy
pleasant way, while removing a fine carrot from his coat. He begins shaving it into the pot with a
long, sharp knife he produced from the same coat… in a flash, it was.
“I have been to your city,” he said. “But I was told to come and write songs of
right for its future. And its new quiet
fame and fortune.”
“Come back at dawn,” Peter shared with him as
their eyes met for the first time. Both
know that when their eyes meet for that first time, that they will be bonded
forever. They know among themselves that
this world is a garden of opportunity and free-flow.
For a moment afterwards, Peter drifts into a deep
sleep, where he return to his hub – the center of all things. But there will be more talk of this later as
our story unfolds. When he awakens, someone
has placed a fine log on the fire and several delightful elements have been
added to the soup. It is now filling the
air with sounds and colors of tastes and smells not known before. Spicy juices have been added to its broth
that sing a mellow gurgle to the night.
If you listen, that is.
Visitor #4
Visitor #4
Let’s remember that Detroit got trapped between
its pride and frustrations many years ago and has walked the razor’s edge for
quite a while and quite a spell.
Night is now hiding behind a blazing sunset to the
west.
Detroit does not have a border, but rather a
bridge; a gate to the north country.
Peter knows now that if this were a drama, fears and worries have played
their parts well thus far. But they have
served their roles and may now exit the stage.
It must have been a simple whisper of the dark to
the light where trust was set aside and went to sleep until the time of
awakening. Peter knows the role of the
soup. It serves as a contrast and a
comparison to various distinctions and flavors.
It is both sugar and spice and can show the highlights and the values of
mutual dependency. The soup is a perfect
demonstration of cooperation. It shows
us, in its end result, a wonderful full-bodied experience for taste, sight,
sound and smell. The soup also teaches
us the virtue that fame and fortune can dance together with love and
compassion.
We co-exist.
Visitor #5
Visitor #5
While Detroit is becoming alive, it does allow one
to come to its city and be whomever he is in whatever setting she chooses.
Next comes a hummingbird of joy down the road, who
hovers eye to eye with Peter. The little
hummingbird asks if she may contribute herself to the soup. Peter thinks excitedly about the nectar being
offered from this tiny, fleeting, flitting bird. But the hummingbird means to offer her body to be burned and boiled. Peter does not hesitate to say no to his
gracious visitor, whose ancestors have been gathering nectar for thousands of
years.
The little bird does not know of the Great
Creator’s gift and sacrifice. It was
Creativity’s one last sacrifice for all the good of life, for Detroit, for the
soup and the world as we know it. So the
hummingbird shares, happily, her gathered nectar of the day with Peter and his
soup.
He watches her fly off under the white wings of
doves and geese, heading in a southerly direction.
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