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2 & 4 Bedroom Apartments
$1400‑$2800 plus utilities.
Tenants pay electric to DTE
Showings scheduled M‑F 10‑3
w/ 24 hour notice required
1015 Packard
734‑996‑1991

5 & 6 Bedroom Apartments
1014 Vaughn
$3000 ‑ $3600 plus utilities
Showings scheduled M‑F 10‑3
w/ 24 hour notice required
734‑996‑1991



ARBOR PROPERTIES
Award‑Winning Rentals in
Kerrytown
Central Campus, Old
West Side, Burns Park. Now Renting
for 2018. 734‑649‑8637
| www.arborprops.com

FALL 2018 HOUSES
# Beds Location Rent
6 1016 S. Forest $4300
4 827 Brookwood $3000
4 852 Brookwood $3000
4 1210 Cambridge $3000
Tenants pay all utilities.
Showings scheduled M‑F 10‑3
w/ 24 hr notice required
734‑996‑1991

Classifieds

Call: #734-418-4115
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ACROSS
1 Flintstones
Vitamins option
5 Chicago Eight
defendant
10 B.C. law
enforcers
14 Big name in
denim
15 Dental
restoration
16 Cause of some
bad apples?
17 Has to pay
18 Part of a script
19 Cyber
phenomenon
20 Turned tail
22 Like some
underbellies
23 Memphis-to-
Atlanta dir.
24 Big fuss
25 With “the,” what a
boxer doesn’t
want to hit?
26 Pulse
28 High points
31 Latin I word
32 Prepared, as
eggs for eggs
Benedict
34 Votin’ nay
35 Emulate Moses
... and what four
black squares do
in this puzzle
38 Like a breeze?
39 August birthstone
40 “How you doin’?”
41 Lost patience
42 “The Beauty
Myth” author
Wolf
46 Chip off the old
block?
48 Annoyed
exclamation
50 Greek god of the
wild
51 Needed an
eraser
52 Herbs and spices
55 Bill __ Climate
Lab: former
exhibit at
Oakland’s
Chabot Space &
Science Center
56 Awaits decision
57 Brief refusal to
“Are you
hungry?”
58 Nineteenth
Amendment
campaigner

59 Rolex rival
60 Gillette offering
61 Book of Mormon
prophet
62 Ready to drop
63 Burn a little

DOWN
1 Daisy component
2 Clean some more
3 Plane, for one
4 Ph.D. hurdle
5 “I feel your pain”
6 Went too far
7 Protected, in a
way
8 Succeed in
getting
9 Word with private
or public
10 Collegian’s diet
staple
11 Rift
12 “Money, Money,
Money” musical
13 Exploits
21 Henry __ Lodge:
WWI senator
22 Swedish carrier
25 Surrendered
27 Nashville
highlight
29 “SNL” alumna
Oteri
30 Scout’s honor?

33 How some bonds
are purchased
34 Movie role for
Skippy
35 Speaker after
John Boehner
36 Shoot for
37 Air Force pilot
who became a
pop star
38 True nature
41 “__ give you the
shirt off his back”

43 Morphine, e.g.
44 It’s repeated a lot
45 Ready to go
47 Kevlar products
49 Mideast ruling
family name
52 Rest area
heavyweight
53 Cabinet dept.
54 Long and
Vardalos
56 Winner’s
gathering

By Samuel A. Donaldson
©2018 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
03/23/18

03/23/18

ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:

RELEASE DATE– Friday, March 23, 2018

Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle

Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t
nervous. I called my friend from
home on my way to The Ark for
encouragement and to pass the
time. I told him of the current
situation: I was walking to meet
up with a stranger to attend a
benefit indie-folk concert. He
laughed at the fact that I was
nervous in the first place, and he
told me all would be fine as long as
I was myself. I neared Main Street
and had to say goodbye to my
friend’s supportive words in order
to begin my unexpected evening.
The headliner for the night
was Ben Balmer, a indie folk-rock
singer who’s traveled the world,
and his band, who returned to
Balmer’s Ann Arbor roots for the
benefit concert “A Time to Plant.”
Proceeds were donated to the
scholarship fund for Dawn Farm,
a unique local farm that offers
different services of “long-term
treatment to men and women who
suffer from addictions,” as stated
in the show’s program. Along with
Balmer and his band, the show
featured a plethora of other artists
from across the country, like Peter
Madcat Ruth, Jaimee Harris and
Heidi Burson. Highlights from
the night included Chris Buhalis,
a singer/songwriter from Detroit,
and Abigail Stauffer, a folk singer
and a “special Dawn Farm pal.”
Although I was given little
information about the stranger
for the night, I was at least given
his name. I decided not to look
Robby up prior to the visit, adding
to the mystery and leaving out the

expectations. I was worried what
he would think of coming all the
way downtown to see a concert
with a random person who would
be writing an article about it.
What if we didn’t like the music?
What if he didn’t like me? Or
worse, what if we just didn’t like
each other?
But Robby, a sophomore in the
School of Engineering, a person
with a welcoming, warm smile
that wiped away my unnecessary
worries, arrived at The Ark with
an open mind and a positive
attitude. Phew. The awkward part
was over.
Robby and I took our seats
in the back while the rest of the
audience filled up the tight space
of the venue. I looked at him and
then observed the scene: Among
the grey-haired crowd, we were
most likely the youngest people
there. Arriving 10 minutes before
the show began, we were lucky to
have a friendly conversation about
our (surprisingly many) common
interests of music, hiking and
similar travel destinations.
Ben Balmer and his band took
to the stage and opened with
“a song that everybody knows”
— a lovely rendition of “Happy
Birthday” for the development
director, Olivia Vigiletti. The
band consisted of eccentric and
individualistic characters: Ben
Balmer on guitar and vocals, Josh
Flowers on bass, Eddie Dickerson
on violin and Aaron Parks on
drums. Their differing talents
but collective vibe absorbed the
audience’s attention.
The Texas band’s hair-raising
harmonies matched their intimate
lyrics about life on the road, lovely

details of a lady and the emotional
challenges of addiction. The other
artists
throughout
the
night
made their way on and off the
stage, performing solo songs and
accompaniments with Balmer’s
band. While music filled my ears,
thoughts continued to travel
through my mind. Thoughts of
worry and curiosity lingered
from the initial nervousness,
distracting me at times from the
performance. I was hoping I didn’t
smell bad and that he was having
fun and that our connection
wasn’t artificial. But, as if I was
at any other performance, I tried
to let the evening take me by the
hand, unannounced and leaving
me on the edge of my seat.
Plucking, playing, bouncing
and smiling, Dickerson’s intense
liveliness enthused Robby and
me. Giggling back and forth
throughout the night, joking
about the violinist’s wild and
unfathomable
energy
and
commenting on the impressive
talent of all the artists, Robby
became less of a stranger as the
night progressed.
I went home that night and
played Ben Balmer from my back
pocket as I brushed my teeth. I
questioned what the night would
have been like if I had gone to
The Ark alone or if my guest was
someone other than Robby. I
wondered if I’d ever see a concert
with Robby again, or if I’d ever
see him again, period. Regardless,
it’s nights like this one where
I was thankful to have a sweet
guest with me — one who saw the
importance of two people being
entertained for the sake of art, for
the sake of a human connection.

ERIKA SHEVCHECK
Daily Arts Writer

Folk, farms and a friend

BACKSTAGE PASS

Reading ‘A Tree Grows in
Brooklyn’ by Betty Smith

I can’t tell you how many
times I’ve frantically searched
my house for my paperback copy
of “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.” I
had emphatically recommended
it to a friend. My mother said she
would loan it to her colleague. I
needed it for a high school book
report. Every time I found it in
the same place: under a stack of
books on my kitchen island, right
in the center of the house.
Somewhere between the time
when I first read the book five
years ago and now, that spot on
the kitchen island became the
permanent spot for the novel. It’s
as if I can’t bear to let it out of my
sight every time I reread it, or as
if the book can’t tear itself away
from the countertop. It’s always
in the center of everything, out of
sight and out of mind, co-existing
until someone from the periphery
has the sudden urge to pick it back
up again.
I first read “A Tree Grows in
Brooklyn” when I was in middle
school, a time that I still identify
as one of the nastiest stages in
adolescence. I, like most other
middle-schoolers, was struggling
to keep up with the norms of
the rest of my class and spent
most of the day gossiping with
my friends. Being cool was the
only important thing, and if you
weren’t cool, what were you,
really? It was a time of transition,
vulnerability and confusion.
A worn copy of “A Tree Grows
in Brooklyn” ended up in my
hands one muggy summer day.
The cover shows a young girl
wearing a blue dress and blue
headband, sitting precariously
on a window ledge and reading

a book balanced on her lap. Her
short brown hair is pushed away
from her face and the bold paint
strokes of a tree trunk are visible
behind her. Looking at the cover, I
could identify with her. She didn’t

seem to fit in, but she seemed
happy being by herself with a
book in her hands. A bookworm
myself, I was curious enough to
open the novel.
What struck me first, and
angered
me
later,
was
the
spontaneity of the characters.
Francie,
daughter
of
Irish
immigrants living in the slums
of Brooklyn in the early 1900s,
possessed the broken nature
of a child who’s been taught
everything
the
wrong
way.
Francie learned patience from
her father Johnny, an alcoholic
who
wouldn’t
return
home
most nights, but would shower
his children with love and gifts
whenever he did. She learned
responsibility
from
years
of
taking care of her younger brother
Neely when her mother Katie was
trying to scrape together a living,
and years later when taking care
of an unexpected addition to the

family. Selling metal collected on
the streets as a young girl made
her cautious and wary.
It’s hard to relate to this cast
of unlikely characters as a girl
from a middle class suburb of
Detroit. In my mind, Johnny
was a terrible father, putting
up a façade of loving his family
while stealing their hard-earned
pennies for drinks at the pub.
When he said things like, “I am
not a happy man ... I never wanted
a family,” to Francie, my heart
hurt. Francie was a heroine, but
she was so advanced for her age
that I couldn’t see myself in her
shoes.
Rereading the book years later,
I realized that this anger at the
characters is exactly what makes
the book so appealing. Betty
Smith makes you uncomfortable
and gets you riled up until
eventually you start feeling for
the most unlikely people. “A Tree
Grows in Brooklyn” is about the
harsh realities of immigrant
struggle in the 20th century,
but Smith writes about these
obstacles in a way that everyone
can relate to. The characters are
raw and vulnerable, but so is the
text itself.
Looking back, I think this
vulnerability was the reason
why “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn”
became
my
drug.
There’s
something about the story of
the Nolan family that seems far-
fetched, yet entirely possible to
sympathize with. It’s as necessary
a read for a middle school girl as
it is a middle-aged adult. You’ll
laugh, cry and be humbled all at
the same time. “A Tree Grows in
Brooklyn” has earned its spot on
my kitchen island for two reasons:
So much of my life revolved
around it when I was young and
so much still does.

TRINA PAL
Daily Arts Writer

BOOKS THAT BUILT US

When “Love, Simon” starts,
it’s a little jarring. Visually, the
film uses a vocabulary of sticky-
sweet teen romcom, a beautiful,
heterosexual nuclear family, a
young protagonist who just isn’t
understood and a curated, too-
keenly teenager wardrobe and
bedroom out of “The O.C” or
“Teen Wolf.” But with director
Greg Berlanti at the helm, perhaps
that should come as no surprise.
However, when the film decides
to reveal the gag (which doesn’t
take long) that high schooler and
protagonist Simon Spier (Nick
Robinson, “Melissa & Joey”) is
in the closet, it takes a second to
adjust.
So often, queer cinema finds its
leads on the fringes, or at least out
of the spotlight of the mainstream.
Elio and Oliver of “Call Me By
Your Name” are sequestered in
a small Italian village; Jack and
Ennis of “Brokeback Mountain”
hide in the eponymous range;
Carol and Therese of “Carol” can
only consummate their love on
the road, in motels. One of the
best elements of “Love, Simon”
is Simon’s presence in a world
that is accessible. The film firmly
roots him in his locale — a pretty,
spacious Georgia suburb. In some
ways, it feels like tacet acceptance

before the plot even gets in motion.
In other ways, however, the
clean world of the teen romcom and
depictions of Simon’s queerness
come in tension. Robinson checks
all the boxes of what one could
expect of a straight male lead,
the only “clear” signal of his
queerness being his participation
in theatre: Does that mean the film
falls prey to heteronormativity or

does that mean that gay people
are able to be represented in
new ways on screen? Certainly,
the world Berlanti crafts has
space
for
characters
that
embody
“traditional”
ideas
of
homosexuality
on
screen,
like one of Simon’s classmates,
Ethan (Clark Moore, “TURN:
Washington’s Spies”). Robinson’s
less than macho but still assuredly
masculine performance, then, is
puzzling.
While
there
is
room
for
criticism
about
the
power
structures
that
underpin
“Love, Simon,” they actually
allow Robinson to express his
indignation to those that oppress
him. Queer leads usually have to
operate in the shadows, or placate,

or acquiesce to those that discover
their sexuality. They are forced to
resign themselves to their lot —
but not Simon. His first emotion,
both when he is outed (online, no
less) and viciously mocked in the
cafeteria afterward, is rage. He
writhes in his sheets in the first
case and confronts the jocks in the
second, with no trace of world-
crushing shame or anguish in his
face in either scene. Rarely is gay
anger shown as confidently and
justifiably as it is in “Love, Simon.”
The film is at its best as it tracks
Simon’s coming-out, despite its
billing as a teen romcom. Since
the romance in “Love, Simon”
develops over email, it takes a
backseat to the real-life drama of
the second and third acts. Berlanti
gives Simon three possible love
interests over the course of the
film, which keeps some interest,
but when Simon and his crush,
Blue, finally meet in real life,
there’s something missing. The
excitement, and quite honestly,
the erotic passion of what is a
long-anticipated first kiss elude
them. The boys kiss with no
intensity or handsiness that the
moment warrants. Despite these
flaws, “Love, Simon” enters the
much-needed, near non-existent
category of feel-good queer films.
I can imagine thousands of queer
kids getting so much from this
film, from seeing a new possibility
of being gay in our time.

‘Love, Simon’ joins the few
feel-good queer movies

JACK BRANDON
Daily Film Editor

FILM REVIEW

20TH CENTURY FOX

“Love, Simon”

20th Century Fox

Quality 16, Rave
Cinemas Ann Arbor

Looking back,

I think this

vulnerability was

the reason why

“A Tree Grows in

Brooklyn” became

my drug

6 — Friday, March 23, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com