Musings from my driveway, my home and my heart
When I was growing up in Detroit in the 1950s and 1960s, there were 232 bars in my grandma’s neighborhood, a mainly Polish area in the city’s sixth police precinct. It’s no wonder that a river of booze ran through my family and the community. When I rode my pink Schwinn bike through the neighborhood... Continue Reading →
Someone recently asked if my grandfather, who ran a Detroit bar for 60 years, was more like the affable Sam Malone from the TV show Cheers or Moe Szyslak, the bartender from The Simpsons who was known for his bad temper and suicidal attempts. Neither. In fact, he was more like Holly Golightly in Breakfast... Continue Reading →
My grandmother, Rozalia Krzemienski, a Polish immigrant with a third-grade education, ran a tiny shot-and-a-beer bar for autoworkers in Detroit for 60 years. I spent my childhood summers with her, watching her deal with customers and make decisions as the small-business owner of the Rose Café, which was named after her. She taught me some... Continue Reading →
A schnauzer, a hatchet and a rosary were some of the tools my grandma relied on when she was forced into retirement at age 84 the day after my grandfather died. They ran a little shot-and-a-beer bar called the Rose Cafe on Michigan Avenue in Detroit that served Cadillac and Chrysler autoworkers. It was a... Continue Reading →
Anita's Way 