Describe gang life in Detroit as described by Brown about "Jimmy", a 15 year old African American youth who he and his wife attempted to mentor and take out for Jimmy's birthday.

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The Answer is My wife and I had previously discussed the prospects of taking Jimmy somewhere for his birthday. The difficulty, however, was where does a white, middle-class couple take a black, soon-to-be-15 gang member for his birthday? Drawing from our limited middle-class options, and recalling the interests of our two daughters who have since grown up, we decided that the Detroit Zoo, followed by a movie, and perhaps dinner, would be both appropriate and appreciated. Having made our decision, I had obtained permission from Jimmy's sister (Jimmy's mother was in prison, and he had never met his father) to take him on an outing for his birthday. The irony, of course, was that several months earlier Jimmy had introduced me to a contact who arranged my first visit to a crack house (in and of itself, a zoo-like environment). Unknowingly, I was now going to introduce Jimmy, who had been born and raised in this city, to the Detroit Zoo. It had never occurred to me, nor to my wife, that an inner-city child, soon to be 15, had never visited a city zoo.
The day was absolutely perfect, given the unpredictability of late spring in southeastern Michigan. The sky was clear, and a slight breeze carried the pleasant scent of Lake St. Clair across the city. Jimmy was "hanging" outside his apartment, located in a complex that many would be inclined to label "the projects." Although attempting to maintain the normal attitude of a streetwise kid, there was a hint of excitement in Jimmy's voice as we exchanged greetings. His sister had already left for work (she also received food stamps due to the low wages she received), so we got into the car and drove to Woodward, turned left, and traveled north to Ten Mile Road.
The Detroit Zoo is located off of Woodward at Ten Mile Road. Those who are familiar with Detroit are aware that, as one drives north out of the inner city, Eight Mile Road represents the Mason-Dixon line of this city. North of Eight Mile Road is white country, and south of this "line of ignorance" is black country. Although some suburban and state policymakers attempt to deny this fact, one need only to look at the occupants of vehicles and at people on the streets. The social reality of racial segregation is self-evident at the Eight Mile Road boundary.
Although I knew that Jimmy had been involved in illegal drug sales, and I suspected he was still involved in this enterprise to some extent, he was, as usual, broke. Many people believe that these kids make large amounts of money running drugs, but I had found that most of the youngsters I have studied have little or no money. This observation has also been noted by others who have conducted ethnographic studies of youth gangs (Padilla 1992). I gave Jimmy $20 so that he could have some sense of independence. As we paid for our tickets (Jimmy paid for his own from the $20 I had given him) and walked into the zoo, my wife reached out to hold Jimmy's hand in a protective sort of way. For a moment he did not resist, then politely withdrew his hand. My wife was concerned about Jimmy's safety in this very secure setting, yet Jimmy had been taking care of himself on the streets of Detroit for several years now! We walked around the zoo for nearly six hours. It was interesting, to say the least, to watch Jimmy eat cotton candy, ice cream bars, popcorn, and so on like a normal kid on an outing. I had seen him navigate around a crack house and stand up for himself, on many occasions, in less than calm situations.
Following the zoo experience, we went to a movie. I welcomed the rest. Jimmy ate two more boxes of popcorn and one ice cream sandwich and drank an extra-large drink. I attempted to calculate the transition of calories into pounds had I attempted this quest to devour these treats.
After the movie we went to a preselected restaurant. At the restaurant we encountered many stares and subtle examples of disapproval from many of the occupants. There were instances during our visit to this restaurant when I wanted to respond to some of the rude onlookers, but this was Jimmy's day. I am certain that Jimmy was aware of the ugliness associated with those demonstrations of white ignorance, but it didn't have much impact on his appetite-after ordering, and eating, a prime rib dinner, he ate an obscene slice of chocolate cream pie. Before leaving the restaurant, I telephoned Jimmy's sister and told her we were on our way home.
Obviously concerned, and now relieved, she asked how Jimmy had behaved (in direct contradiction of those who think parental interest and family values are lacking in the inner city), specifically drawing attention to his manners. I told her that he had been absolutely wonderful, and I really meant it. Returning to our table, I found Jimmy and my wife engaged in deep conversation about basketball-an activity about which she has neither knowledge, nor interest to acquire knowledge. Later, when I asked her about their discussion, she replied, "I just wanted him to be able to talk about whatever he wanted to talk about. I felt very sad because I realized that we had to take him home soon."
We left the restaurant about 10 o'clock and began our journey back to Jimmy's home. Jimmy had also realized that the day had come to a close. In retrospect, my wife and I developed an analogy about this event. Imagine a delicate flower kept in a refrigerator. The petals are drawn closely together in defense against the cold-trying desperately to survive. This represents Jimmy on the morning that we drove toward the zoo. At some point during our tour of the zoo, Jimmy, responding very much like that delicate flower when warmth entered that cold environment, began to open his petals. Throughout the day that flower remained in full bloom. Looking across the seat on the way home, it became obvious that the closer we got to Eight Mile Road, the more the flower began to close. By the time we arrived at Jimmy's apartment, the petals had closed-realizing that survival was foremost.
My wife and I will never forget Jimmy's 15th birthday. It was a day filled with good intentions. We both wanted that day to be special for Jimmy-and it was. That day was also filled with cruelty. We removed Jimmy, for a day, from "the projects." We showed him what life would be like if he were white or middle class. We gave him a glimpse of life outside his natural environment. But Jimmy is not white, nor is he middle class. He is black. He lives, like so many other black kids, in poverty. The future is very uncertain for him. The probability of escape for Jimmy, and the thousands of "Jimmys" like him, is very low-despite all the political rhetoric of "American opportunity."
I have seen Jimmy many times since his 15th birthday. Each time he talks about our outing. In his own way, he always expresses his gratitude for that day. But, like any delicate flower, he has come to accept his lot in life. While it may be very cold in his environment of poverty, he feels that it is better than the pain of experiencing brief encounters in an environment that he believes is beyond his reach. Thus, he has never asked to repeat the experience.

Describe Gang Life in Detroit as Described by Brown About