Upon moving to Ann Arbor a few years ago, I was immediately struck by all the large, mature trees. Watching them respond to the change of the seasons is fascinating. My eye is drawn from the excitement of the first fuschia flowers of the Eastern Redbud (Cercis canadensis) in spring to the towering Black Walnuts (Juglans nigra) that ripen so much fruit at the height of summer, from the large Maples (Acer rubrum and Acer saccharum) that turn bright red and yellow in autumn to the Swamp White Oaks (Quercus bicolor) that hold tight their crisp browned leaves until February. There's always something beautiful to observe in the trees that live among us.

The shape and structure of plants and leaves have always interested me, and when I started working with clay, I was most often inspired by nature's forms. For this project, the process of finding the actual native leaves was not always straightforward. While the City of Ann Arbor and the University of Michigan both have helpful interactive online tree maps (here and here), once I found a tree, there was still the problem of getting the leaves. If the tree was too tall, maybe I would find some on the ground, but more often than not, I would have to go back to the map and find a shorter tree. The process got a little easier when my partner, Andrew Clapper, helped me by downloading and filtering the underlying data sets using GIS software to identify the most promising specimens.

Each individual piece in this collection was made using a real leaf pressed into stoneware clay using a rolling pin and left to dry. I then carefully peeled the leaf from the clay, revealing an impression that I hand painted with a watercolor underglaze. Next, the pieces were bisque fired, then glazed, before the second and final firing.

One of the most enjoyable parts of this project was visiting areas of Ann Arbor I had never been to in search of specific trees. Many were found by walking in my neighborhood, some via biking, and a few I had to drive to get. You can follow my explorations on the map linked here, which shows where each native species’ leaves were gathered. - Artist Neha Chheda, Samaaj Ceramics

Black Walnut Juglans nigra	American Beech Fagus grandifolia	Basswood Tilia americana	Bitternut Hickory Carya cordiformis
Black Maple Acer nigrum	Black Oak Quercus velutina	Blackgum Nyssa sylvatica	Bur Oak Quercus macrocarpa
Butternut Juglans cinerea	Chinkapin Oak Quercus muehlenbergii	Cockspur Hawthorn Crataegus crus-galli	Dogwood Cornus florida
Eastern Red Cedar Juniperus virginiana	Hackberry Celtis occidentalis	Ironwood Ostrya virginiana	Musclewood Carpinus caroliniana
Northern White Cedar Thuja occidentalis	Pawpaw Asimina triloba	Pignut Hickory Carya glabra	Red Maple Acer rubrum
Red Oak Quercus rubra	Redbud Cercis canadensis	Sassafras Sassafras albidum	Shagbark Hickory Carya ovata
Shingle Oak Quercus imbricaria	Sugar Maple Acer saccharum	Swamp White Oak Quercus bicolor	Sycamore Plantanus occidentalis
Trembling Aspen Populus tremuloides	Tulip Tree Liriodendron tulipfera	White Oak Quercus alba	Yellow Birch Betula alleghaniensis

In her Four Poems, poet Sophia Anfinn Tonnesson explores the literary history of Ann Arbor through engagement with the works of poets who lived and worked here:  Joseph Brodsky, Alice Fulton, and Keith Taylor.  

Right to Read: The Ann Arbor King Case is a short documentary about the 1977 lawsuit that became known as the “Ann Arbor Black English Case” or “The King Case". Brought on behalf of 11 Black students at Martin Luther King Jr. Elementary School in Ann Arbor, MI, childhood literacy, Black language, and cultural competency emerged as central themes of this case. The story resonated around the country for many reasons and prompted mixed media coverage, motivated academic study, and inspired public discussion.

"Language is to identity as oxygen is to life and the benefit of its mindful development in the formative years of children has long been documented. Like many, until I gained a deeper knowledge of this 1977 case (Martin Luther King Jr Elementary School Children v The Michigan Board of Education and Michigan Superintendent of Public Instruction), I thought it was solely about the treatment of Black English in a particular Ann Arbor, Michigan school and the implications for the school’s Black English-speaking students. While that is worthy of discussion and legal consideration, diving in revealed it to be a multidimensional story, starting with the fact that the case was not originally about language.

As a language enthusiast and also a Black English speaker, my initial interest in the case was primarily sociolinguistic. I was inspired to create this documentary, in part, because of the chance to explore how the US legal system recognizes and protects minority languages and dialects. Interestingly, until the mid-1960s, language was not considered a federally protected class in the US. One of my central guiding questions was “How did the kids’ use of Black English and teachers’ perception of it affect student development?” and “How does a perceived educational inequity translate to a debate of the legal protections a language deserves?” The “realness” or legitimacy of Black English was not automatically accepted (certainly not to the level that it is today), and I became fascinated with both the social discourse this prompted as well as the challenge it posed to the King Case students’ many expert witnesses, like sociolinguists Dr. Geneva Smitherman and Dr. William Labov, and education writer Dr. Daniel Fader, who in a court of law aimed to prove the existence of Black English as a language and educate the judge on its interconnection with identity and early childhood literacy.

The King Case students all lived in the Green Road housing projects, located in a middle-class neighborhood on Green Road on North Campus. It surprised me to learn that there is a documented history that living in a low-income housing community can lead to poorer academic outcomes and a diminished sense of belonging as was the situation with the King Case students.

It’s been nearly 50 years since the lawsuit was originally filed and there’s much to reflect on. I have been extremely lucky to sit in conversation with the chief expert witness for the King Case students, the trailblazing Dr. Geneva Smitherman; two of the students Kihilee and Dwayne Brenen, whose mother Janice bravely ignited the case; Ruth Zweifler, a fierce and longtime student advocate and founder of the Student Advocacy Center, now retired; Gabe Hillel Kaimowitz, the lead attorney for the students, now retired; Lamont Walton, a participating attorney for the students; Dr. Rossi Ray-Taylor, a former superintendent for Ann Arbor Public Schools; and Dr. Jessi Grieser, a sociolinguist at the University of Michigan. While there were many records and articles that were available to support the research process, one of the biggest challenges involved with making this film was, simply, time. The case’s original media evidence (trial audio recordings and photos) have been lost to the record. Some who were originally closely associated with the case are no longer alive and some others' memories of the case have since faded or they were too young to retain certain details. In addition to sit-down interviews, I leveraged archival material like case transcripts, newspaper articles, historical footage and photos to tell this story.

I had the opportunity to visit present-day King Elementary and witnessed how it has changed in many ways, which was incredibly inspiring. The King Case makes us examine the teaching of language and literacy and how early childhood learning experiences are carried with us across time. After watching this film, I hope viewers introspect on how they were socialized to think about language as a child and then consider what perceptions about language they carry with them today. For those with school age children in their lives, I hope they take a moment to have a conversation about the importance of literacy and commit to walking with them as they grow as learners.

I’m developing an expanded version of this documentary which features more interviews and more reflections from current participants, where the culture and climate of Ann Arbor is more deeply explored, where we can better understand how language arts curriculum was built in the US and how its construction contributed to a scenario where the King Case could happen." - Filmmaker Aliyah Mitchell

Sometimes Ann Arbor feels like a bubble from the rest of Michigan.

I have been living in Ann Arbor for 22 years and I find it to be true, but for a reason many wouldn’t expect. Yes there is richness in culture, prestigious universities, and a long-rooted history of leaders and creators, but for me this comfortable bubble is the Korean food this town has to offer.

I can’t recall a town in Michigan that has such an abundance of Korean restaurants as Ann Arbor. From modern Korean like Miss Kim to known-for-its-BBQ like Tomukun, the variety in taste of Korean food anyone might be looking for in Michigan, you can find it in Ann Arbor. When it comes to Korean food, my nature is to search for a place that tastes and feels like home-

One that feels like my umma’s cooking and gestures of Korean hospitality.

Two places in Ann Arbor have given me a sense of home I needed when it feels lonely being Korean in America, especially in the midwest. These two restaurants happen to sit almost side by side on a street that often is bustling with college students, S. University Avenue. Perhaps they are looking for a piece of home, too.

Rich J.C. is a Korean Restaurant that my husband and I have been eating at for nearly two decades. There was a time we ate there weekly. Pungent aroma of kimchi fills the air thick when you walk in. “Ahn-young-ha-sae-yo” greets me with a wave and a warm smile. Whether it’s a hot summer day, bitterly cold winter night, or anything in-between, this space has welcomed me with exactly what my belly and hungry soul needed without fail.

For a few years back then, it used to be called Rich J.C. Korean Cafe before it was changed to Rich J.C. In the early 2000s, I remember the space being pretty empty with only 4-5 customers for dinner service. In the course of eight to ten years and beyond--now, there is a line out the door--from college kids to families, all longing for something delicious. We went for the food, but also for the company.

Ahjumma and ahjussi never asked once why we don’t have kids, especially after knowing us for so long. This took me by surprise because any other Korean older adult would ask without reservation. I felt accepted. As a school teacher, the first six years were challenging. And on top of that, attending graduate school while teaching full time felt like more than I could bear. Those years were long and fast all at once.

But, in the midst of the blur, meals we ate at Rich J.C. felt like time had stopped just so I could know I am okay, I will be okay.

Interior of Rich J.C.

I can still taste the kimchi jigae, a very popular yet ordinary dish. The kimchi and the soup was nothing like I have tasted, at the same time tasted like everything I knew. The spicy, savory, and salty flavors hit your tongue all at once even in a small spoonful. You keep going back for more. The piping hot jigae continues to bubble until the last drop is left. It’s exactly how my umma makes jigaes at home. It’s not Korean until it’s boiling hot, I was taught. There aren’t many dishes in the Korean cuisine that are lukewarm except for the banchans--it’s either piping hot or ice cold. While the owners have changed in recent years, the restaurant continues to do well by serving delicious meals.

A few doors down from Rich J.C. is Kang’s Korean Restaurant. I can hardly believe it has existed since the 1980's. Back then it was a simple coffee shop selling Korean donuts and over the years it became a full service restaurant that is popular for both dining in and take out. I wish I was in Ann Arbor to experience the coffee shop and the evolution of this space, but from the flavors of each dish and the warm hospitality, I can only imagine just how special it was from the start. Each time I walk into Kang’s, the ambience is cozy and welcoming. With Korean pop music playing in the background and self-serve water and boricha, I am transported to a restaurant in Korea even though I have no memories of it. When something is special, it can feel familiar without remembrance.

You know a space is special when it can take you on a journey you didn’t know you needed.

The menu is simple, delicious, and unpretentious. My favorites are their kimchi pajeon, dolsot bibimbap with tofu, and their very famous kalbi tang even though I don’t eat red meat. The dolsot bibimbap is generously filled with banchans that my umma would make at home, kimchi pajeon is perfectly crispy on the outside and burn your tongue hot as you take the first bite, and kalbi tang is the best I have had in town. You can taste the sincerity in each dish, depth in aroma, not compromising Korean flavors for anyone.

Dishes at Kang's

Meals at Kang’s are a giant hug that remind me not to be apologetic for being Korean. You just feel good being in there. Only if the lines weren’t so long with people waiting to be seated, you would want to sit and eat for hours. This is a spot my husband and I go to when we want a good home-cooked Korean meal or when we feel a bit weary and need some encouragement. It’s a place where you leave with your belly full and your spirits lighter.

Restaurants are often spaces of home for many Asian Americans. Whether it’s to eat food that tastes like home, hear the sounds of language that isn’t English, or seeing ahjummas and ahjussis who resemble our family members, the hustle and bustle of a restaurant is where we often find peace.

Korean restaurants are spaces where I often find solace and joy and I am grateful it’s here in Ann Arbor.

"Ann Arbor is Tree Town. But which trees are the towniest?

In honor of Ann Arbor’s bicentennial and the Ann Arbor 200 celebration coordinated by the Ann Arbor District Library, we decided to ask residents if they have a favorite individual tree within city limits – and why it was meaningful to them. We made a survey. We shared it widely. Happily, we received a lot of thoughtful responses and selected 20 for this catalog.

We followed respondents’ directions—sometimes exact GPS coordinates, sometimes vague hand waves toward a general wooded area—and found their trees. Some were exceptionally big, or colorful, or otherwise stand-out spectacular. Many of the trees our respondents identified may have seemed ordinary at first glance, yet they held deep, personal significance in their lives. To our surprise, the experience of seeing Ann Arbor through our neighbors’ eyes turned out to be profoundly rewarding. It renewed our appreciation for the iconic trees we already knew and loved and it allowed us to marvel at trees we might not have otherwise noticed—but whose acquaintance makes our lives in this city richer, more personal, and more beautiful.

Beauty, as it were, is in the eye of the tree-holder.

This catalog contains a subset of Ann Arborites’ favorite trees, in their own words, paired with custom oil pastel portraits by Jenny. We included a map so readers can behold these special trees and render their lives richer, too. We highly recommend it."

–Jenny Kalejs & Sam Ankenbauer

In 2022, the staff of the AADL Archives discovered and had digitized a collection of interviews that had gone into the making of the library's I Remember When series of television programs for Ann Arbor's sesquicentennial in 1974*.  We all knew what the folks in 1974 had made from these interviews, but we thought it might be interesting to see what someone from 2024 would do with the same set of footage.

Ann Arbor 200 is not the public library's first foray into celebrating a milestone in our community's history by creating resources about it.  For Ann Arbor's sesquicentennial back in 1974, the Ann Arbor Public Library produced a series of videos for television called I Remember When.  This series, produced by Catherine Anderson and hosted by Ted Trost, assembled newly-collected interviews with prominent Ann Arborites into episodes about various topics in history like city politics or the Greek and German communities.  The Ann Arbor District Library digitized all seven episodes of I Remember When from VHS tapes back in 2014 and made them available online.  It has since become beloved not just for its interviews with local people we can otherwise only read about but also for its delightfully goofy 1970s-ness.  It turned out there was more yet to come.

About five years ago, a box was unearthed from a back corner of the basement of the Downtown Library that contained a set of old videotapes in a format with which no one was familiar.  AADL Archives staff took a closer look and realized that what had been found were the original interviews performed to create those episodes of I Remember When.  These were on a long-obsolete format of magnetic tape called EIAJ-1, briefly used by the television media in the early 1970s.  Having sat neglected for nearly 50 years, we had little hope we would get much out of them.  They were shipped to a specialist digitization company in Pennsylvania who knew how to extract the audio and video from these tapes (not as simple as just having a player; these tapes need to be baked in an oven before they can even be played).  

As it happened, almost all of the contents were salvageable, and those contents were more than we could have hoped for.  Interviews with over 30 prominent Ann Arborites of the twentieth-century, each between 20 and 60 minutes long.  We had of course seen bits of these, but at most there might be six minutes in an episode from any given interview, so there was a great deal of material we had not seen before.  In addition, an eighth episode of I Remember When was discovered; whether this episode was never aired or just never transferred onto the VHS tapes we originally digitized we do not know.  

This lost episode, School Days, featuring segments with Lela Duff, Linda Eberbach, David Inglis, Bill Bishop, and Ashley Clague, is now available on aadl.org.  

The complete set of interviews is also available below, offering a wealth of archival material from Ann Arbor's past.  These have been fully transcribed and indexed by AADL Archives staff.  Enjoy hearing voices and seeing faces from Ann Arbor's past, but take note before you do: the sensibilities of 50 years ago are not the sensibilities of today, and some of the things you hear may be surprising coming from these storied citizens.  But the heroes of Ann Arbor history were people, and people of their times, and that knowledge alone is worth the unearthing.

Osias Zwerdling	Linnia Knox Carpenter	John Feiner	Emanuel & Elizabeth Haas
Gerald Hoag	Guy Larcom	Edith & Paul Kempf	Helen Kokales & Frank Kokenakes
Fred Looker	A.D. Moore	Anthony Preketes	Alva Joanna Sink
Nan Sparrow	Burnette Staebler	Neil Staebler	Fred Wahr
Letty Wickliffe	John Hathaway	Ashley Clague & Frances Danforth	Lela Duff
	1974 Gemutlichkeit German Festival - Albert Duckek, George Sauter, Hans Rauer	Yassoo Greek Festival - Frank Minikes, Andrew Kokenakes

"This project is my interpretation and re-creation of old Ann Arbor photos and postcards of everyday places with a modern twist. While looking through the old photos, I was attracted to those that reminded me of Ann Arbor today despite being from decades ago. I went through many iterations of paintings of both indoor and outdoor spaces and selected these few for this project which to me capture Ann Arbor's natural beauty while introducing some of today's elements into them. These paintings were made using Gouache on Hot Press Paper. " - Artist Anusree Sattaluri

	Dam on the Huron River
	State Street
	Huron River "Where Nature is Instructor"
	Island Park
	View on Huron River