September arrives and the hints of Fall are everywhere. Maybe you didn't notice them? Perhaps you saw the autumn hues and turned your gaze to the green? Understandable.
The home-sale stager came and offered advice, and as someone who does not want to move (mind you we don’t have to, there are no financial or logistical exigencies influencing this, but we are going to) this was like sitting down with your funeral director and deciding which songs you wanted played at your ceremony. Sort of. Perhaps more like being fitted for the suit you’ll wear in the box. I’m not going to get much use out of it, am I? Shame.
We don’t have major major things to do, but some painting and floor work and of course the kitchen counters, which will probably be ripped up by whoever takes possession. I decided to get a head start on the hall closet, which could stand some winnowing, since I’ve a weakness for lightweight jackets. Did away with seven of all weights. Then I went to my Museum Closet and did a few items for the Small Things video series (as I said, I want ten in the can before I start rolling them out. I have seven.) Decided there’s no point in putting them back on the shelves, so put the items in a box so I can get used to not seeing it, which makes it easier to give away. The other day I parted with six Big Little Books, although I kept back the Space Ghost one for some reason. I am one of those lucky persons who was young enough to like Space Ghost unironically as a child, then love the reboot talk show.
This final act of winnowing will be not easy. I loved those shelves with their array of 20th century cast-off items, each with their own story and particular beauty. But that’s over.I always felt like the curator, to use that pretentious and overused and probably now-untrendy word, of a little collection of interesting things that were not immediately remarkable. I mean they were instantly remarkable to me, that’s why I bought them, but I suppose they strike a lot of people as just old stuff. What is this, an old key? Yes. Who cares? Well, it's the Waldorf Astoria. Okay, and? The old Waldorf Astoria. Okay, and?
There was a lot of stuff that didn’t make the cut. Somehow I accumulated four coasters that were made from the center of old 78 records. It pained me to think of what had to happen to turn them into useful objects again - the destruction of their entire purpose, the silencing of the voices and breaths and busy fingers encoded in the grooves. But, well, chances are someone already put it up on YouTube, as we discussed a while ago. And chances are slim that people will find a new appreciation of the 1920s popular music, with its oompah base and tootling clarinets and spo-de-oh-doh vocals. Right?
I wonder if I can find . . . this.
Why yes.
How about this one?
Why yes.
Perhaps I am also fighting against the inevitability of moving to a place with no history, no little 1920s commercial blocks, no old churches with their Gothic geegaws or columned porticos. No abandoned movie theaters. I was never here for the run of the Boulevard down the street, but they never took down the marquee.
It was a Hollywood video store for a while. It hasn’t been a Hollywood for longer than it was, but when I look at it I still remember going through the aisles with little Natalie, choosing something from the children’s section, putting our hands in the reproduction of the Graumann’s Chinese Theater sidewalk squares, saying no to the tempting boxes of candy, and leaving with something to make her laugh or think or dream. Such connections are innumerable around here.
Today at the grocery store I noticed that the memorial to the murdered employee has been downsized. It’s now a sign, his chair, and a company shirt draped over the back. Some day that, too, will leave. And if I ever do return to this beloved neighborhood - can’t imagine why I would or how I could - I would visit the store and say that’s where the chair was.
I know, I know, find happiness in new beginnings and fresh starts. Good advice. It has no purchase now, though, because I’m in for six of the hardest months of my life, and I know it. There's no way to rip the bandage off. It's more like pulling out a bone.
Well! Aren't I just a FOUNTAIN OF JOY lately. Sorry. Better tomorrow.
It’s 1902.
Another very small town. A despondent crop report says the wheat is sprouting in the shock.
This does not sound like a duel.
Not in the classical sense of two guys taking measured paces then turning and firing. This just sounds like a free-for-all.
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Well, now I feel stupid. I should have known that. Did you know that? Is it common knowledge, or one of those things that makes the people with specialized vocabs smile? I’m talking about Finding Nemo, of course. |
Lucky man:
From an account of one of his battles, a “tragicomic” engagement that was not draped with glory:
Col. Möller’s Hussars became totally lost in the thick mist and ended up at Adelaide Farm near Impati, and when the mist cleared they were quickly surrounded and made prisoners by the Irish-American volunteers of Erasmus’ force.
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Surely there’s something more to the story, no? And why is this in a Nebraska paper? I did some searches, but nothing immediately came up. You wonder if there’s someone still in the area coasting on the largesse. |
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A glimpse of the entertainment of the day. It must have been quite an event, full of sights one never saw the rest of the year. But . . . where was it going to be? And why was this on page 4? |
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Fear and sexual assault - it’s comedy gold! I don’t like to read the worst possible interpretations into the tales of yore, but I will here; this actually sounds terrifying, for her. |
Who?
This was easily solved: googled Hicks Almanac, thinking there might be a guy named Hicks who predicted the weather, and was popular enough so people could reference him without explanation. Sure enough: Rev. Irl R. Hicks.
Died a rich man, the post says, thanks to his almanacs.
Wonder if he was right about the weather.
That will do for today. We move on to the Sixties in the Decades Project, and won't you be surprised: it's the industry magazine you forgot all about. Oh yes. There's more.
Thanks for dropping by! See you around. Oh: there's a big batch of kinda-sorta Here-To-There style stuff at the Substack today for the paying customers. And as ever I thank you for subscribing, and yes, I am working on the book.
