There are no four-leaf clovers left in Cleveland.

No wonder the city's been down on it's luck.

I spent this entire summer determined to find one of these beauties, making plenty of clover crowns in the process, but anything I thought might be one turned out to be 2 three-leaf clovers tangled together. I almost feel obligated to find one, as someone of Irish heritage, in order to prove I'm worthy, or something. Worthy of what, I don't know. Perhaps the luck of the Irish we supposedly all have. I don't consider myself lucky, by any means, but I do consider myself fortunate. Maybe that's why I'll never find one, because of my vocabulary. Or because I'm grateful, and I don't need luck. But I still would like to find one. Debbie thinks I'll find one on a really important day, like my wedding day or something. Which makes me not want to look for them until then. That's silly, though.

I spent my years in Detroit searching for them, too, and after growing up with no success in my search, there seemed to be a reason for the state of Detroit's economy. Maybe one day I'll find a patch of four leaf clovers and relocate them to Detroit, where they'll grow and spread. Maybe it'll fix the economy. Maybe I'll call it art.