It was frigid outside and when I arose from sleep. I relieved Myself and ran the water that it might get hot enough to wash My hands and put My bridge in place. I trundle to the kitchen and turn on the teapot, then grind some coffee beans to make My morning pot. That wonderful aroma!
While waiting for the teapot to sing that I might pour hot water through the trusty Melitta, I wander back to My favorite chair, settle My Butt and fumble for the zapper to turn on the TV.
My God, the news channel tells Me about beheadings, burnings and plane crashes. They go on and on about murder, mayhem and people dead because some woman drove her SUV into the path of a train. Probably on her cursed cell phone...I think to Myself. The news goes on about hostages, power outages and terrorists the World over... about politicians schemes to steal My paltry and hard earned retirement...the teapot sings...
I get out of My chair, arthritic bone by bone and pad back to the kitchen to pour the water through the magic beans...that wonderful aroma! I wait for the steaming water to work it's magic and prepare My favorite and much cherished Hamburg Inn cup, a coffee Grail that I never wash, rinse only and I purchased before the days of the Inn going "Hollywood" and encouraging all those "slimeball politicians" to drop in. (a run on sentence...I know) I pour the elixir.
I carefully make My way back to My chair so that I don't spill a precious drop and wiggle My butt into the chair and take a first wonderful sip...of life. Then I remember the paper, My window on the World, I reach down to pick it up. I gaze in amazement at the front page...There is a very pretentious mast head and some sports shit, a few paragraphs on talks about a new equity plan from the school board and way at the bottom a teaser paragraph or two of real news to be continued on page 8A about a murder.
The vast bulk of the front page is taken up, above and below the fold, by a banner head telling Me that it is OK to drink beer (not milk) with My Girl Scout Cookies. Using huge pictures of beer and cookies they go on to suggest certain...really good pairings that I might find palatable and potable. This proves, I guess that the rag is trying to become the House Organ of a number 1 party school contender. (Sally's fault, I muse) This might just explain why they are far out circulated by a Rag from a town 20 miles away. This also illustrates why, If you send your kid to school here you will not have to give them a new car if they manage to graduate...just buy them 6 months of detox, and a bus pass... they won't have a license anyway.
I try and recall if I have any beer in the fridge, then remember that
I do not have any cookies, being retired and blessedly immune to constant pleas from parents of Girl Scouts to sign up, pay later. And a good thing too, it might have blown all My sugar, carbs and calories...all before 9AM. Phone rings, or whatever they call it now.
It's Staples, My pen refills are in...refills warmed up in Hell!
So goes the morning...
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| Generl Refrigerador as a child I had no imaginary friends only imaginary fiends ______________________________________________________________________________________________________ |
and done by thugs and gangsters, it was called extortion or crime. When the IRS shakes down small business simply because they know small business can't afford to fight them and simply because they can, it's called government.
Many small business people make bank deposits of under $10.000 dollars having no idea that they are being watched by IRS thugs who can confiscate their accounts and keep that money with no allegation of a crime having been committed. Sometimes they even specify that no crime has been committed, in the confiscation process. These thugs then propose a "settlement", knowing that in many cases the business owner will opt to "settle" rather than fight them. There are jobbers and suppliers to pay, the payroll to make. No time to hire lawyers and wait months for exoneration and remuneration. The thug gets a feather in his cap and money to play with as though it was his own.
Is this America ?
Is this America ?
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Well...progress rolls on and money will be made and soon this bookstore will be chewed up by the machines of the "combine", it will be a memory. I still have not resolved how I would vote if I were on the City Council. I might have incorporated the rather pitiful things into the design of the inevitable parking garage of the inevitable storefront-housing
block that will most likely follow...there are good reasons to save it and good reasons not to save it. There is a shame involved in both.
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| These "cottages" as they have come to be called are 150 years old and have been there since around the time of the Civil War they do represent the type of housing the Rail Roads workers needed at the time. They are not terribly comely, they are in rough shape and take up valuable ground. They are not now and never were unique draws, they were a way for marginal small business to "exist" probably in a perfect World a way should be found to preserve them. Iowa City today has a very large number of empty store fronts so, "Say Goodnight Gracie". The home where I grew up in another town approaches 150. I have pictures and we can't save everything. |
