Bittersweet recollections in The New Yorker this week by Rollo Romig about growing up on Gainsborough Road in North Rosedale Park touch an emotional chord for readers in that neighborhood. His reflections also resonate among those who moved out, as Romig's parents did in 1994 after 19 years there.

Comments under Tuesday's blog post and on the author's Twitter feed share a mix of nostalgia, pride and defensiveness.

"North Rosedale Park is a great community," Eddie Hejka posts at the magazine's site. "I did not recognize the crime-ridden place he described."

In contrast, a reader identifying himself as "Adam from Ashton" replies Thursday:

"The words rang pretty true for me.  We had just about every garage on our block broken into, everyone got a car stolen at some point, and each one of us was mugged at some point.  I lived there from '73-'91."  

Romig also hears from former babysitter Dawn McGinty and ex-neighbor Ann Cuddohy Slawnik, a 1983 Wayne State graduate who's now a documentary producer in Detroit. "I remember your mother Ann from co-op nursery, and Andy -- just a special man," she tweets. "Wonderful times, but difficult too."

 

Here's a sampling of reactions as a follow-up to our summary of his mini-memoir the day it appeared:

"Best place:"  You captured the essence, much of which remains. It was the feeling of community that makes it the best place we ever lived. -- Mary Halsted

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Rollo Romig grew up on Gainsborough Road (center), few blocks north of Grand River Avenue.

"Fond memories:" This brought back so many fond memories; after all, he IS writing about our street, Gainsborough.  I was this author's babysitter. -- Dawn McGinty

"Idyllic, but not cocooned:" I grew up on Gainsborough too. My brother and I were the paper boys on all four blocks from about '77 to '81. We moved out in '83 to Montclair, NJ -- a city that is integrated on paper and maybe in its own self-image, but was so socially/racially segregated compared to Rosedale that it felt like stepping back in time to a place where they hadn't even recognized problems that our parents were already trying to solve by living in Rosedale.

You did a great job capturing how it was -- idyllic, but not cocooned. . . . We left before I knew it was fragile. To me it was and still is normal, and that is a victory for our parents.
I have never again lived in a place as racially integrated. I never thought of it as integrated until I lived several other places and realized it was a rare community. I will always honor the intention of the people that made and still make that community. They were ahead of their time. -- B. Heffernan

Cynicism and hope: I also grew up in North Rosedale, across the street from the park. The Community House is still functioning; my family has rented it in the recent past for a family Christmas. I spent a great deal of time in that building and on the grounds -- in the Boy Scouts, mowing the grass when I was old enough to be trusted on the tractor, flooding the ice rinks with my dad, Devil's Night Haunted House and Monster Movie, JA dances,.the list is endless.
I didn't have quite the lovely experience the author did, although in comparison to the rest of Detroit, I would still think it to be a pretty positive experience.

I also remember the crimes and the good times. The time my mom was mugged [while] walking around the park for exercise, the time our lawn mower was taken out of our garage, the bikes that were stolen. . . .

This article brings up many memories, good and bad, of the park from the 70s on. Memories that shape the distinct way that North Rosedale kids seem to view the world -- with jaded cynicism laced with a sublime hope. -- B. Stabler

"Muggings, assaults, thefts:" I grew up on Glastonbury from '73-'87 but was in the less cohesive South Rosedale Park by a block. Little League in the park, shows, skating, all of it rings true. I even had a paper route on Outer Drive from Grand River to McNichols, though most of my collections went directly into the coin slots of the Fishy Fins backroom video arcade.

You've captured the strange community-under-seige togetherness Rosedale seemed to embody right down to the community celebrations and block parties. I remember that odd Fuller brush man and the knife-sharpening salesman, the produce trucks that would bring farm fresh produce (that had adults running into the street like kids for the ice cream man) and the random muggings, assaults, thefts and burglaries. It was only after our block baptain (a supremely involved and kind Joe Lynch) was deliberately struck and killed while jogging that my parents began considering a move. -- "CrossCamel"

Earlier at Deadline Detroit:

Read more: The New Yorker