It’s difficult to write outside because of the infinitesimally small flies, or ISFs. They go straight to you, perhaps because you’re warm, or are outgassing CO2, or because they are starved for love. The ISF is a very vague fly.

That last line tells me I should write a column on this, just because the idea of a “vague fly” makes me smile, and perhaps might have the same effect on others. I was going to write about the Snapchat Gender Swap filter, and how I can tell my twitter audience is not full of millennials is because my feed wasn’t full of people looking like the opposite gender. I’d post mine, but - did I say this already? I look like the woman who drives a Volvo plastered with angry bumperstickers and one COEXIST sticker who demands to talk to the manager because the last time she was here they didn’t put enough cinnamon on her latte, or something. My wife, who has short hair, was turned into a strange anime creature with big eyes and long hair and a narrowed jaw, which was hilarious.

So I’d best write that, and get a leg up on tomorrow. I assume that when you get a leg up on something that there comes a time when your leg is down; if you work too far in advance you have both legs up on something, which sounds like you’re relaxing. Right now I have both legs up on the table outside. I should take at least one down if I’m going to be honest.

Lovely summer day; 80. Something sad happened, which is not serious sad, but an end-of-an-era thing that made me sag a bit. Until I was grateful for having experienced it at all! That’s the spirit! Remember all the good and let your heart be filled with joy,

But I’m never going to experience that again, and -

FILLED. WITH. JOY

I had one of those architectural detective jobs I love to do. A co-worker tweeted out this:

It’s a huge picture of Minneapolis in 1908. I mean, it drops the jaw. So much detail. If you know your old landmarks, you can name them off in a roll call of fallen citizens, and orient yourself right away, figuring out where it was taken, which streets are which. He called my attention to this:

Good luck finding that in the picture, but it’s there.

Ah: but where? What building had a statue of a man on the top?

It took me a few minutes, since I have my entire Mpls collection on my laptop, and I could fix the location easily. Nicollet, lower, by the old hotel, up the street . . .

Found another picture, zoomed: the Palace Clothiers.

Off to the newspaper archives, where stories abounded about the new building Palace’s owner, Mr. Rothchild, was building next to the building with the man on top - the Rothwell building, originally.

But nothing in the stories about the statue. It’s a mystery who put it up, and when. One odd detail in a picture teeming with life and vitality and pride. All that in so few years. People are remarkable. Americans are remarkable. Minnesotans are remarkable.

UPDATE, which is an odd thing to say since as far as you know this is all happening at the same time:

Same fellow? I think so. But . . . the arch indicates that it's a post-war Victory celebration, after which the fellow was hoisted to the top. But did they do classical arches for wars after 1907? More research awaits.

This, I know, will come as a surprise. The width, I mean. It changes everything! But I like it. Sets context. What's the harm? So let's begin 2019 with something that isn't really a Main Street at all, but conforms to the feature's theme, aka old haunting crap.