Mullis: Meeting another Michigan soul

Since this is my second season with the Battle Creek Enquirer’s Mosaic Storytelling Showcase, I was asked to mentor new storytellers. I was happy to do so, but finding time to meet was difficult.

One of the tellers assigned to me is a young man who just moved here. Evenings worked best for him. I am an old mom with overcommitted teenagers. Evenings were logistical nightmares.

We decided on a Wednesday evening in the Binda Theatre lobby. My non-driving daughter had band rehearsal in the theater, which meant I was stuck in the lobby anyway.

He was early. We were late.

He was wearing a shirt and tie, holding the door open when we arrived. I was wearing an old fleece and sweatpants, thanking him while stuffing the wrapper of my granola bar dinner into my pocket.

We got to work.

His story was touching, involving a literal and metaphoric cross-country journey to find his family. He was a natural storyteller. I was there to help him organize the narrative.

When we finished shaping the story, I expected him to take off and do whatever young people with no obligations do in the evening. Instead, we started talking.

He asked if I was Catholic – a strange question since nothing in my disheveled state would suggest such a thing. I told him I was. He told me he attends Mass with his grandmother, who made him promise to go when he moved here.

I smiled, remembering my own Catholic grandmother who liked to extract similar promises.

He was curious about Battle Creek, and we exchanged impressions about the city. When I told him I grew up in Detroit, he asked where. Apparently, he likes to visit Detroit and had become rather familiar with the city.

It’s been a long time since I talked to anyone about Detroit. I enjoyed referencing streets, landmarks and neighborhoods. Our conversation had a table-tennis feel, trading volleys on Greektown, gentrification, where to get a good paczki and where not to park your car.

He liked to photograph the city, but not the abandoned sites that have been so popular over the last decade. He took out his phone, showing me beautiful pictures, like the Renaissance Center shrouded in mist and the yawning majesty of St. Anne’s Catholic Church.

We both liked old architecture, which is prevalent in Detroit and Battle Creek. He told me he was signing a lease, but wanted to own a home eventually, something with character.

I told him about my childhood home, a two-story brick house with cut glass windows, built-in shelves, and a winding banister. I told him I found conflicting results about the house’s fate a few years ago. Google Maps showed it boarded up, its shutters painted a garish red. YouTube revealed someone had flipped it, the process documented on video. The dates made me think the “abandoning” took place after the “flipping,” which made me sad.

He asked me for the address, pulling up a recent real estate page on the house. Today it is occupied, remodeled and worth a nice sum of money, which made me happy.

We agreed the Cereal City and the Motor City have a lot in common. Outsiders think they are dying, but insiders know better. There is a resiliency in these cities, something that makes you want to stay.

Before I knew it, my daughter was done, ready to leave. I introduced her to my new friend. He may have grown up in Washington, but he has a Michigander’s soul.

Nicole L.V. Mullis is the author of “A Teacher Named Faith.” You can reach her at nlvm.columns@gmail.com or www.NicoleLVMullis.com.