McHuston Booksellers

Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

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What a difference a year makes.

March 20, 2014 /

Time was, you could fire a cannon down the middle of Main Street after 5pm and not worry a single soul. It wasn’t that long ago. Before moving the shop into the Rose District, I would occasionally take a slight detour after locking up and drive through Old Downtown BA.

Dead.

You could have parked anywhere, but wouldn’t have had much of a reason to do so. Nothing much was open. I should know. For years, I was probably the last retail shop open after five or six o’clock on Main.

Take a look at the picture. You can click on it for a slightly larger view, if you like. The snapshot was taken about seven-thirty this evening. As you can see, it’s a completely different scenario these days. The image is looking south through the Main and Commercial Street intersection, from in front of the shop. When I looked the other direction, the parking spaces were filled all the way to Broadway.

Since I don’t own an NSA secret-agent look-around-the-corner camera, you can’t see the cars parked east and west along Commercial.

And in the public lot on Ash Street.

The photo was taken about the time of day I would occasionally drive down Main before heading to the house, back when the shop was in the Oak Crest Center. Back then, you could have had your pick of spaces in which to park, but not many shopping or dining options.

That was before Main Street Tavern and the Bruhouse Grill and Fiesta Mambo. And with yesterday’s announcement about The Rooftop (to open in June above In the Raw’s new restaurant location), and the rumored restaurant to be located right next door, the evening activity will certainly make for busy sidewalks and happy, hungry guests.

But no more firing of cannons down the middle of Main.

Come visit!

McHuston

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

You call it.

March 19, 2014 /

It was a divided highway. I was driving in the left-hand lane. In Oklahoma, we recognize that as the – Exceed-The-Speed-Limit lane of traffic. The highway wasn’t particularly crowded, but there were a number of cars on the other side of the median, coming in my direction.

Most of them were flashing their headlights on and off.

Speed trap ahead, I thought to myself. I began scanning the shoulder up ahead, trying to locate the Highway Patrol cruiser with the radar gun. I was about to give up when I spotted him, driving in the inner lane, red-lights flashing, headlights blinking. But, I couldn’t see anyone being chased. All the northbound cars had pulled over to the outside lane, still flashing their headlights about the speed trap.

Weird, I thought.

I looked back at my own lane, where a large sedan was headed directly for me. Going the wrong way. I’m doing seventy-miles-per-hour. We’re closing fast.

Really fast.

There wasn’t even a second to shout. Or cuss. I looked up, saw the impending head-on collision, and in the same moment in time – the car whizzed by my door.

I guess I had jerked the steering wheel. At any rate, the next thing I know I’m driving at seventy-miles-an-hour in the outside lane. The Highway Patrol cruiser is visible in my rear view mirror – he’s pacing the car that’s headed in the wrong direction, maybe trying to get him to stop or pull onto the shoulder, I don’t know.

There wasn’t even time to be nervous or scared when it happened, but I got the shakes afterward. There were two of us in the front seat of my car. We both would have died.

I can’t really solve the mystery of actions or reactions that happen outside the thinking process. Instinct, maybe. Some would call it Divine Intervention. The crazy thing is, I’ve had similar incidents in which the outcome was Whew! What a close one! – rather than suffering through trips to the emergency room. I thought about that driving episode when I read about the boy falling from a third-story apartment today.

Maybe that toddler will wonder one day about the serendipity of it, or the Divine Intervention, that allowed his fall from a third-floor apartment balcony to be interrupted by a man and woman who happened to be carrying their bed on the sidewalk this afternoon.

If you didn’t see the story, you can read it here: Reuters News

In a nutshell, the three-year old was tossing toys from a window or balcony and decided to climb out after them. After less than a minute of precarious clinging, gravity prevailed. Here’s that amazing part. The guy moving the mattress glanced up, saw the kid a moment before he fell, and positioned the bedding on the sidewalk as a safety net backup as he tried to catch the boy.

Konrad Lighter managed to grab the kid. Neither is the worse for wear. What should have been – by all circumstances – a heart-wrenching accidental death, will be remembered as a childhood incident that made the news. Mr. Lighter is the hero of the event, not because he acted bravely, but because he Acted. Reacted to the situation. Moved faster than he had time to think.

You can call it a miracle, or whatever you like.

It was certainly a lucky day for moving the bedroom furniture on the sidewalk below the apartments. At least, it was lucky for one three-year-old toy tosser.

Some true stories are more outrageous than fiction. You’ll find both kinds on the book shelves when you –

Come visit!

McHuston

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

It’s a Happy St. Pat’s Day to ya!

March 17, 2014 /

Hard to imagine a St. Patrick’s Day without some kind of stress (from a restaurateur’s point of view), but this one goes in the books that way. Granted, the celebration here was an abbreviated version, compared to some year’s events, and those planned elsewhere. The fire-marshal-at-the-door-year comes to mind, for example…He was most gracious though, that year, and said we could “carry on our party.”

Once again, Kristen the super-daughter stepped in to make it all work smoothly. I ventured out from the kitchen when I could, just so I dash among the tables spreading blarney. (One of my many vices.) She is always great at taking care of the guests and making sure everyone has what they need for a good experience.

I have the apron on yet, ready to tackle the stack of dishes and glassware that resulted from the St. Paddy’s Day lunch. The feel-good afterglow even knocks down the burden of hand-washing all those plates and bowls. I do miss the big sanitizing machine we had at Paddy’s Irish.

(We now interrupt the blog for this news-brief: I just fielded a telephone call with a question about how busy it would be tonight. Not all all. One of these days we’ll graduate to the Big Boy party circuit. Maybe. Having been in that league during my years at Paddy’s Irish in Tulsa, I’m not sure I’m ready to jump back into the party-pit.)

Today was genuinely enjoyable.

A fellow just popped in wondering about the evening’s Irish menu. I hate to disappoint potential partiers, but I had hardly recovered from the Saturday evening cooking and serving before I was back in the kitchen again, prepping for Monday’s lunch. Those carrots and potatoes still won’t peel and chop themselves, despite my repeated training sessions. Of course, after I admitted we’d already had our little party, he said he was planning to visit Main Street Tavern anyway…

So, there weren’t any bagpipers playing. Some are relieved when that happens, but I happen to enjoy them. We had no Celtic guitars and penny-whistlers. No riverdancers. There was enough of the Clancy Brothers to prompt a “Can you turn it down?” request. And that was okay, too.

Time marches on. Eventually, I’ll need a cane to keep up with it, I suppose.

For now though, I’m sure I’m not the only one a wee bit relieved that the festivities of the pot o’ gold type are over for the year. (Reference: Saturday evening’s ShamRock the Rose festival in the Rose District, and everyone who worked so hard to make that event come off as planned, or – at least – near to the plan.) At the restaurant in Tulsa, we had a tradition in place. There were alterations to the formula, to be sure, but it was a bit of carry on and keep it up.

Here, it was a first-time thing. (Last year, St. Paddy’s fell on a Sunday, creating its own set of difficulties.) But, from here on out, there is an experience to build on. And, Hey! Maybe next year we’ll even publicize our little party. Who knows?

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, all! And to those of you who allowed us to serve you lunch and a green beer or shamrock punch:

Go raibh míle maith agat!

(If you want to say it out loud, that’s – Guh Rev Meeluh Mah Og-ut.)

Roughly translated from Irish Gaelic: Thanks a million!

Come visit!

McHuston

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

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