My father was a Flint guy, Great Depression edition – blue-collar even when he was in management, hands-on, patriotic, optimistic, and altogether typical of his generation. As a young man, he played baseball, drank beer, smoked whatever cigarettes he could afford, and helped save the world for democracy. Like his father and his only brother, Dad was an autoworker. All three men worked for Buick, a General Motors division that at its peak employed nearly 30,000 people in Flint, Michigan. Buicks … [Read more...]