I have been replaced

Perhaps you are of a certain age, and from the Detroit area, and perhaps you were listening to WKNR on that fateful day, October 12, 1969, when Russ Gibb (aka Uncle Russ)  received  a phone call alerting us to the fact that Paul McCartney had passed on, and a stand-in was posing as Paul.  My sister and I certainly were, and we had all our Beatle albums out and searched out the clues.  The hand over Paul on the cover of St. Pepper, the obvious funeral  procession on the cover of Abby Road, the lyrics that played “turn me on, dead man” backwards, and the irrefutable “I buried Paul” at the end of Strawberry Fields Forever, just to name a few.

Well, I now know how Sir Paul felt.  I, too, have been replaced by a look-a-like.  Let me share with you the evidence.  First, my hair is a different color.  No, I’m not talking about the beautiful shade of blue that I keep claiming is natural, I do dye it.  But those roots?  They were always blonde.  Now they are brown.

Second, a couple of weeks ago I was at a party bragging that I even have blue hair in my driver’s license photo, and I took out the license to prove it.  My friend exclaimed “Why does it say you have brown eyes!?”

“Because my eyes are brown?”

“They are not!  They’re hazel!”   A second friend confirmed there is  green in my former brown eyes.

Third, I went to the doctor for a checkup yesterday.  I weigh a few pounds more than I did last time I was there.  Maybe that’s evidence that I eat too much and move too little, not that I’ve been replaced.  But then she measured me.  “Five foot four.”

“No, five foot six!  I’ve always been five foot six!”

In the examining room I learned, from a chart, that at 5’6″ my weight is at the high end of normal, but at 5’4″ my weight is at the low end of overweight.  That wasn’t nice at all.

I used to be a tall, willowy brown-eyed blonde, and I’ve been replaced by a short, pudgy, hazel-eyed mousy brown-haired girl.  Not only have I been replaced, but whoever did it wasn’t even trying!  I wonder where the real me is?  Perhaps I died, perhaps I’m avoiding someone and living in a South American country (in which case I hope I learned Spanish), perhaps I’m in Paris.  I like to think I’m in Paris.  Anyway, when I find me, there’s gonna be hell to pay…

A visit to honor the dead

blow up hearse

My sister Jane had a day of setbacks yesterday, but we still managed to get ourselves downtown for a short while to check out the day of the dead ofrendas in Mextown.     When we came upon the giant blow up hearse we were pretty sure we had found something.

El Central

Inside was a display put on by El Central newspaper.   It was both beautiful and informative.   We learned about the celebrations in Mexico, where spending a night in the graveyard is not a scary proposition, but a night spent with friends and family that have passed on.

grave yard

These are the displays.   This was a wonderful graveyard where you could write the name of someone on a provided piece of paper and add it to the grave.


Most the displays are dedicated to one person, and looking at them cam tell you a lot about that person.


I loved this board, the drawings were freely done and quite wonderful.

library ofrenda

This was an ofrenda put on by the local branch of the Detroit Public Library.

As beautiful as everything was, there wasn’t nearly as much as I’d seen in past years.   I have to admit, Jane and I had the most fun wandering around the Honey Bee Grocery on Bagley!   It’s a great place for Mexican groceries.