The Wire

One of the ways I celebrated Independence Day was finally digging into The Wire. After all, what's a better way to honor our great nation than immersing yourself in Baltimore's seedy underbelly?

I was a bit worried that after my favorite smart people proclaimed it as "The World's Best Television Show Ever Of All Time in the History of the Universe," I might be disappointed. Thankfully, not yet.

So there was this scene in one of the early episodes where Officer McNulty was standing in front of his desk. Just behind him, I spotted this sunny yellow bumper sticker posted on his bulletin board that read: "I love city life."

Its appearance there was dripping with irony. I mean, the characters were having a conversation about urban crime and corruption that didn't make "city life" seem all that glamorous.

But as an avid lover of cities and propaganda, I was curious and looked it up. Turns out there's a whole Live in Baltimore campaign, complete with merchandise. (Eat your heart out, Alex Feldman & Austin Black! BTW, there are some good ideas there, including housing incentives. Worth a look.)

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Watching The Wire reminds me of a conversation I had a couple weeks ago with a Wayne State University police officer. She strolled in the shop ("Don't worry, I'm just looking") and we had a nice conversation while she browsed. I told her that I really appreciated all they did to make the neighborhood safe, and that I felt very comfortable living and owning a business there. She looked at me like I was crazy -- as if to say, "Really? Oh honey, if only you knew what I know."

It occurred to me, probably for the very first time in earnest (I'm a little slow), that my freedom to do what I love in Detroit (promote city living, advocate for new business), is only possible thanks to the people who do the much less glamorous work of serving and protecting us.

The police officer reminded me to be careful -- like maybe it wasn't such a good idea to feel so comfortable, like I should probably remain more vigilant. I was worried she was going to start listing crime statistics, and I would have to cover my ears and sing "la, la, la" like a little kid to drown out the icky stuff.

It's true, sometimes I prefer dwelling in my bubble of blissful ignorance. If I know too much, I might not be as persuasive in my case. And making the case for Detroit is one of the reasons I get up every morning. Knowledge is power, but selective hearing is essential to sustain my optimism.

So to the men & women who serve and protect, I know I have taken you for granted. But I'll try to remember what Colonel Jessup said in his famous monologue from A Few Good Men: "You have the luxury of not knowing what I know."

Thank you for that luxurious gift. By doing your thing, you make it possible for me to do mine.