Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

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The Main Squeeze.

Have you Time-Traveled lately? You don’t have to be Marty McFly or Dr. Who to find portals through space and time. Visiting the past is as simple as logging on to the internet. Main Street – as we know it – will require some time-teleporting to view it after this evening.

I realized that Friday is the last day for Main Street in Broken Arrow. Oh, it will still be around, but this afternoon is anticipated to be the last in its current configuration. To document the deal, I decided to take a picture, and stepped out past the parking spaces and into traffic, which is the Broken Arrow equivalent of swimming with sharks. (I won’t go into my crosswalk incident of the other afternoon, except to point out that the light was green for me, red for the two trucks, and that I survived it.) As you can see in the image, I waited until cars were stopped at the far light ahead (and at Broadway behind me) to give myself a fighting chance of survival.

Hopefully, a thick layer of auto-shark-repellent will go into the concrete mix when the street alteration begins on Monday. Personally, I think it would be fantastic if some of the cars that are pushing 50 mph through downtown would slow down long enough to take in the signs and stores and shops. Replacing the two inner lanes of traffic with a single, turn-only lane will require a little more attentiveness regarding cars backing out of parking spaces. It should slow the traffic some, as well.

The Main Street Expressway – running from 71st to 91st (of course, BA calls them Kenosha and Washington) – should be a thing of the past after this weekend. That’s just peachy with me. The orange barrels and traffic cones that will go up when work begins on Monday will eventually be gone. The Rose District that should begin blooming in the fall will be more conducive to walking around without requiring an accidental death rider on your insurance policy.

The concept drawings of the finished arts and entertainment district are beautiful. They’ve planned a mid-block crosswalk between Commercial and Dallas in addition to the wider sidewalks that will accommodate some shopper-amenities like benches and seats. Some of the restaurants will be able to have outdoor seating (some already do…). There will be landscaping with an irrigation system to keep the plants green, instead of turning toasty-brown like they all did last summer from lack of rain. Angled parking will remain, but the four-lane thoroughfare will be reduced to two-with-a-center-turn from College to Fort Worth streets.

Naturally, there are people who feel strongly about the proposed alteration. Change of any sort is generally met with anxiety (excepting, perhaps, pocket change). Here’s a taste of truth, though. For the past decade or so, downtown BA has been treading the commercial water, with an ever-changing list of store names. Going in and out of business. Without a fundamental and base-level change, that cycle will only continue to repeat.

That’s why I’m excited to be in the Rose District and will tolerate the inevitable difficulties associated with store-front road construction. Growing the Rose District will be a little like growing the actual flowers: you’ve got to start with viable seeds and soil to have any expectation of seeing beautiful results. It will take a little nurturing and some amount of patience. In the end, the results should exceed the efforts by far.

(You’ll notice that I got through that entire paragraph without drawing a single fertilizer-compost-or-alternative reference.)

Speedy drivers will still be able to shoot down the ol’ Main Street Expressway. It’s as easy as taking the Google Earth internet onramp and cruising along with those old and dated images, where our little downtown bookstore is still visible as Francy Law Firm.

If we could only roll back fuel prices to earlier times, too…

Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main, Broken Arrow OK!

Grimm and Bear it.

Once upon a time, I read Stephen King novels and dwelled with the beasts of the night. At least, those on the printed page. I guzzled goosebumps and chased those creepers down in the cellar. Then I found Faulkner.

Maybe it wasn’t classic literature that broke the cycle. Could have been a cheesy mystery. The point being – some book came along and ended my nearly-exclusive diet of scary. Pretty much cold turkey.

Fear became an almost forgotten emotion for me. Well – I’m not claiming fearlessness. I’m closer to a First Reader than First Responder. I just don’t find myself in situations that are scary. No bungee jumping. Sky-diving?

Are you kidding?

I always agreed with my buddy Michael, who questioned the fundamental idea of leaping out of a perfectly good airplane. Some of you snow ski. Me? Never. Snow is to me as water is to the Wicked Witch. (I’m MELTING! Yeah, yeah… Give me melting over snow and ice any time.)

There was a balmy morning that I jumped off the back of a boat and immediately spotted several reef sharks in close proximity. That made me uncomfortable. I was breathing pretty quickly. (Forty minutes worth of Scuba-tank-air gone in about twelve.) Still, I wouldn’t describe the dive as scary. For me, at least, the scary feeling comes when things are out of my own control. Like sitting in the passenger seat when the driver is under seventeen and shooting for a learner’s permit. THAT can be scary.

Even swimming with sharks I knew what I was supposed to do and kept the plan front and center in my thoughts. Tense? Sure. Anxious? You’re darn-tootin’. Scared? Not really. Lack of fear does not mean brave. (I admit to feeling pretty stupid later for jumping into shark-infested water, just to experience it – After all, the boat wasn’t sinking…)

At some point, it becomes tougher to find things outside our collection of experiences. With time, we all develop a mental catalog of those things that jump-start the adrenaline, like things that go bump in the night. Or go bump in the next room. Or behind you when you’re standing alone in the kitchen.

What was that?

Ice cubes melting loudly in the sink. That’s all. Refrigerator compressor kicking on. Or last night’s tacos come back to haunt… more ghastly than ghostly.

There was a sort of adrenaline-feel for me, I think, associated with scary movies – a spine-tingly sensation without the risks associated with activities like lion-taming and human-cannon-balling.

As to frightening films – I can’t name a recent one I’ve seen. Some ads look interesting, I’ll admit, in a PBS-anthropological sort of way. As in, what made me watch something like that, back then?

Which brings us to Grimm. Some of you will have seen the show. It has had several seasons of which I have been completely oblivious.

Premise?

Good vs. Evil – at its most basic level. Big scare is mixed in there between commercials (In this case, in between the Netflix gaps where the TV ads would have been inserted) where the Grimm-guy sees the monsters that are knocking off regular folks left and right. No one else can see them. Until it’s too late.

I was caught off-guard by the show, I will admit. A lot of years without that particular tension. Scary-osity. Unlike most of Stephen King’s works, though, Grimm manages a humorous release valve that was lacking in those old scary novels I used to read.

A grin keeps the Grimm at bay. Keeps the heart beating in between frights. Allows necessary respiration.

No peeing the pantalones.

Maybe I’ll give Episode 2 a chance.

Don’t be scared! Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street, BA OK!

Have you done it?

Come on, baby! Don’t beekle the dice!

That one still gets stuck in the mental song-loop on occasion. The other day, after the McCartney concert at the BOK Center, a Facebook friend posted a picture of a Beatles record (those big pre-CDs) along with a snippet of song lyric. Naturally, Don’t Beekle the Dice popped into my head.

It is one of those songs that aren’t really too deep. No ethereal connections. No double-entendres about politics or the deeper meaning of life. Easy to sing along with.

It turns out – while singing along – I’ve been mangling the words. My whole life, I suppose. I tend to pay more attention to the instruments than the vocals, for whatever reason. As a kid, I was singing along with the radio and a fellow named Wayne Newton.

Doctor Shane… Darling, Doctor Shane!

Back then, I never really tried to figure out what the songwriter had for the good Doc. Later, I discovered that the words were in the German language.

Dankeschön! Darling, Dankeschön! Thank you for….mmmmmm seein’ me again!

(Now that oldie is stuck in my head.)

One day, while I was mentally rolling the Beekle, or maybe I was Beekling the Dice – it struck me as particularly nonsensical. Beekle the Dice. Really? I quit repeating it and started dissecting it.

My baby said she’s trav’ling on the one after 909
I said move over honey, I’m traveling on that line
I said: Move over once, move over twice
Come on baby don’t Beekle the Dice!

Me, thinking it over, at last: Beekle the Dice? Beekle the Dice?

Mental process: Don’t be stupid. There’s no Beekling in Dice.

Me, ashamed: Come on, Baby! Don’t BE COLD AS ICE.

Mental process: Whew! I had me doubts, laddie.

Me, singing aloud: Come on baby, don’t Beekle the Dice!

Said she’s trav’ling on the one after 909. I realized that train had left the station long before I had my bags packed.

On the other hand, I sometimes overthink things. I drive the speed limit because if I don’t, I’ll get a ticket. I could be on the longest, loneliest, dirt road crossing the Arizona desert and get pulled over if I run it five over the limit. As a result, I get chafed as cars pass me by. (Right. I’m that old fool poking along that everyone has to go around. I just told you I get tickets. I can afford tickets less than I can afford your sour looks as you pass me.)

Overthinking it, I wonder if the folks zipping around me at 45 or 50 in the posted 25 zone also ignore the other laws. I no sooner had that thought this morning, when the person who passed me doing 45 or 50 ran the red light in front of us. (Naturally, I had time to stop…)

From my position – idling there at the crosswalk, I could see the speeder/red-lighter narrowly avoid colliding with commercial van that was executing an illegal grand-mal U-turn mid-block on Main. From speeding to red-light running to U-turns in less than one hundred yards.

I decided burglary and murder were only a-ways down the street, so I turned left on Dallas to avoid the inevitable emergency responders.

If only we had a mass-transit line near the store. I could be travelin’ on the one after 909.

Until then, Don’t Beekle the Dice. Come visit!

McHuston

Booksellers & Irish Bistro
Rose District
122 South Main Street, BA OK!

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