Village Life:  Remembering a Flint walk when far away–my secret of self-care
Nov08

Village Life: Remembering a Flint walk when far away–my secret of self-care

By Jan Worth-Nelson I swear, by the time I stride onto the south end of Kensington, just a few hundred yards from my house, the endorphins already are kicking in.  My breathing evens out, and there’s often a cardinal or two darting around in the brush bending over Gilkey Creek. I don’t know what most of those plants are—mostly “weeds,” I guess, but I don’t care.  They’re green and they’re wild and they belong there as much as I do....

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Village Life:  No boundaries for fear–A tale of two Flints
Oct01

Village Life: No boundaries for fear–A tale of two Flints

By Melodee Mabbitt On Halloween, I’ll have lived for 10 years in my house in the East Village, or what my mom referred to as “management’s neighborhood.” I recently tried to explain to someone in the neighborhood how different my life was before I came here, when I lived on Bennett Avenue and later on M. L. King. I tried to explain the first violent crime I’d witnessed, and then the next one. I don’t even know if I got them right. Was...

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Village Life:  The Flint River dumped us, but we got a story (or two)
Aug29

Village Life: The Flint River dumped us, but we got a story (or two)

  By Jan Worth-Nelson I told Sarah Carson the river would give us solace—that was how I talked her into it, for my part always wanting an accomplice in my adventures. Two writers who revel in sedentary hours alone. Two writers—one young, one old—rampantly hopeful but almost comically expecting the worst. Two writers who’d never been in a tandem kayak together on an end-of-summer Wednesday. What could go wrong? Ha ha! Here’s the...

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Village Life:  In LA or Flint, tai chi yields gifts of challenge, elation, peace
Apr01

Village Life: In LA or Flint, tai chi yields gifts of challenge, elation, peace

By Teddy Robertson “Breathe from the diaphragm,” says Beverly, my tai chi instructor. “Clear your mind; try to go slowly,” she reminds us before we begin. We never go slowly enough. We stand in two rows in a large room, the dining hall in a senior center. Some wear the thin-soled martial arts slippers that help in tai chi’s turns and kicks, glides and slides. Through its floor-to-ceiling windows a hummingbird jabs at the orange and...

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Village Life:  A tale of two signs on the “Eastside” of Flint
Jan09

Village Life: A tale of two signs on the “Eastside” of Flint

By Gary Fisher They’re just metal street signs. Been there for years, decades, a very long time, after all. There they are perched at the top of a standard street sign pole. Nothing to see here, folks. Or maybe there is. Well at least for me there is. That’s because sometimes street signs aren’t just street signs. Sometimes they are so much more. Those two signs were the literal and figurative signposts of not only my life, but also...

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Village Life:  85 tubas and a corny sing-a-long one secret to holiday cheer
Dec17

Village Life: 85 tubas and a corny sing-a-long one secret to holiday cheer

By Jan Worth-Nelson Let’s face it–you can’t not smile when singing “Jingle Bells” with 85 tubas as your back-up group. I love Tuba Christmas, in all its kitschy Baby Jesus/Virgin Mary/Hark the Heralds/Deck the Halls tradition, staged every mid-December in the atrium of the Flint Farmers’ Market.  The gaudy brass of the sensually fat horns reflects all the other colors around it.   The booming bass...

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