My Hometown

(There's a more serious, library-y blog post coming later today.)

So, I'm from Windsor, Ontario. People don't usually believe me when I say it's not all that rough, but it hasn't had a murder in 22 months. This is especially striking when compared to Detroit's murder rates (which are discussed in the article).

This reminds me of a story my great-aunt told me. She was a police officer in Detroit in the '70s, and she and her coworkers were discussing incidents of rape, and wondering how numbers in Detroit compared to those in Windsor. So they called up the cops in Windsor, who couldn't remember when the last time they'd had one was. (Yes, I know, this doesn't mean that there weren't any. But it's illustrative.) Needless to say, the Detroit cops were floored.

Windsor's an odd town. I don't think you can love it if you weren't raised there. And I don't want to live there again, I don't think. But it's still got lots going for it (and I'd rather live in Windsor again than in London, Ontario. For sure), in some odd ways.