Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Category: Books

Goodbye Speedway. Hello Casual Shopping.

It may have some folks “seeing red,” but I think it’s a thing of beauty. Talking about the color of the north-south traffic signals in the Rose District. I got shivers the other night when I was leaving the shop.

It was after dark, as usual, and something caught my eye in the rear-view mirror. I started to pull to the side of the road, thinking it was an ambulance or – more typically – a fire department truck barreling down Main.

It wasn’t.

The flashing red was a traffic light – one that I had stopped for without thinking much about it at the time. When I looked back in the mirror a few moments later, the lights at every intersection along Main were stopping traffic, glowing red.

Now – I’ll admit to being aggravated when traffic in three directions is halted at red lights, while no cars are even approaching the green. It happens frequently at Elm and 91st (Washington St, as it’s labeled in BA).

But downtown Broken Arrow is not an expressway or a thoroughfare. It should not be the fastest route to traverse that two mile stretch from Kenosha to Washington.

So. There are some drivers wondering why they have to stop at Main and Commercial. No cars are coming. Some have been angry and it is easy to spot them. They are the drivers now pushing fifty-miles-an-hour in the length of a city block, trying to make the next light before it turns red.

Those folks are missing the point. Badly.

When Rhema hangs millions and millions of colored lights on the trees at Christmas, they expect drivers to cruise through at a reasonable pace, to be able to look at the brilliant splendor, while avoiding smashing into other cars and people ambling through the crosswalk. When you pack the relatives into the backseat to go tour the Rhema display, I’m guessing you don’t attempt a land speed record driving down Kenosha (71st as you Tulsa people know it).

But that is what has been happening on Main. For years it has been the quickest way to whip through that two-mile stretch. No speed traps. No red lights. Four fat lanes of traffic and crosswalks be darned (family blog, you recall). That phrase that aptly describes fear, looking “like a deer in the headlights” originated in Broken Arrow. Except, it was actually: looking “like a ‘dear’ at the green light.”

Mother, holding the hand of her toddler, impatiently waiting to cross Main: No, dear. We have to wait for the green light.

Toddler: But Mommy! The light IS green.

Mother: Yes, dear. But I meant that figuratively. We only have a green light to cross when the nearest car is more than a block away. Get ready now… When I scream GO! Fly like the wind!

My own life was saved the other evening by my mother, as we stepped from the sidewalk onto the street. The light was green, the little walking man shining on the post was green, the new gizmo was beeping that we could cross with ADA impunity. We were halfway across when a pickup sped through the red light, directly in front of us. Had I been walking at my normal pace, I’d be dead.

Or laid up, wishing I was.

The soap box here is beginning to sag under my continued use of it. The point? Rose District is no longer business as usual. Changes are afoot. Literally.

It isn’t a deserted stretch of buildings in which you might park to visit your tax-preparer or attorney’s office. Plenty of people have recounted to me the great times in downtown BA of old – when there was the soda fountain and the drug store and the movie theater and the dime store.

Sorry. But the Rose District has a history museum for that stuff. If the city is to raise tax revenue from this area, it can’t be a largely forgotten group of buildings. Broken Arrow is now one of the largest cities in Oklahoma, and an embarrassing percentage of our residents have never visited Main Street between 71st and 91st. Others know it only as a shortcut where speeding is ignored.

Newsflash. It has not been ignored. There was simply no recourse for those of us trying to get people to stop and shop.

But red lights at the intersections might allow some drivers to look around. Maybe spot a gift shop. A restaurant. New buildings under construction. A specialty chocolatier. Antiques dealers. Florists. A bicycle shop. Clothing. Furniture. More restaurants. A cigar bar. An art gallery. Women’s formal wear. Gold and diamonds at the jeweler’s shop. A deli. A vendor’s consortium. Another one with completely different offerings. A coffee shop/restaurant at the far end. Antiques and specialty furniture restoration.

Oh. And there is the gym and the medical office and the cellphone store. Oh, and another restaurant. I’m sure I’ve left some of my neighbors out, but this is already running long and my cognizance has a limited-time efficiency.

(Oh, yeah. May I also mention a bookstore in the Rose?)

What? Didn’t realize all this could be found along the edges of your 71st to 91st racetrack? What can I say? Pull up a redlight and give up 90 seconds of your life. Take a deep breath and a look around.

You might see something you like.

And those of you who already understand the point of this historic part of Broken Arrow – Come visit!

McHuston

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

Wait, wait. Don’t tell me…

Bring on blue-tooth and your tablets that stream live football games for free. Give me that technology. I’ll figure it out, eventually.

Oh. Wait a minute.

I need a technology filter first. You see, there are some things brought forth in the name of progress and invention that I can simply do without. Some of them are items that aren’t even that complicated.

Things like electric car windows. Don’t want them. Don’t need them. Roll your garage door up and down electrically all you like, but leave me my hand-crank for the car windows. Much more reliable. The passenger-side window on the van is permanently raised, even on the hottest summer day without air conditioning. Can’t roll ‘er down.

On the other hand, I love the fact that I can snap a digital photograph on my cellular telephone and transfer it to the laptop computer without the use of wires. And then – should I care to – click the mouse and send the picture to the printer in the office at the back of the store. Sometimes I do that, just because I can.

There are – I believe – some cutting edge techno-gadgets that simply go beyond what is necessary.

In our redeveloped Rose District we have some fancy-schmancy gadgetry that has just been connected up to the electrical circuit-grid, making them click, and whir, and switch. The traffic signals are more than just car-stoppers, you see.

Before the changes, a vehicle approaching on a cross-street would trigger the traffic signal facing Main to change to red. That’s all well and good. But – what if – there is a huge, huge line of cars wanting to cross Main Street? Just imagine so many cars backed up that they keep triggering the light to stay red. Oh, those poor souls on Main, forced to wait, even though their vehicles have backed up for two or three blocks. (It could happen. Yep.)

Well. The new signals have an electric eye (so I’ve been told) that keeps checking for any backups on Main. Too many cars waiting? Bang! Easy-peasy, the light mechanism knows it is time to change to keep the flow going. A little while later, it will switch back to allow the rest of the evening rush to get across.

Here is the ultra-tech: If you stand at the corner of Main and Commercial, (or have a seat in one of the new sidewalk benches) you’ll be told to “Wait.” It is an authoritative male voice that doesn’t seem to want any guff.

“Wait,” it says. “Wait. Wait. Wait.”

In fact, it appears to be limited in vocabulary to a single word. And it seems to be limited in intelligence to a single activity.

No matter which direction we pedestrians are headed, we are told to “Wait.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait.”

“See McHuston wait.”

“Wait.

The UPS driver bounced in wondering what the Wait was all about, and I replied that there was no waiting at the bookshop. A customer wondered if people were commenting about the Wait.

They were, but I had no idea what they were talking about until I walked to the bank and needed to cross the street.

“Wait,” the post said. “Wait. Wait Wait.”

So, I waited longer than reasonably required, just out of courtesy. Wait. It has been my impression that people walking downtown have long been accustomed to waiting before crossing, for fear of instant crushing death at the hands (or fender) of a heck-bent motorist in a speeding car. I’m thinking there should be a bullhorn aimed at those folks calling out “WAIT!” in a no-fooling tone. “WAIT! WAIT!” And then, we could cross the pedestrian-friendly street.

I was in the crosswalk in the middle of Main, walking with the approval of the signpost, when a young woman pulled up directly in front of me, cutting me off. One step quicker and I’d have been hit. I stood there – maybe two feet away from her car door – wondering “What the…”

The exact middle of Main seemed as safe a place as any at that point. So, I just waited it out. I’m not sure she ever saw me. She continued to talk on her phone until the light changed. At that point, she sped away, finally allowing me to cross against the wishes of the authoritative voice desperately calling out for me to “Wait. Wait.”

A lunch guest popped back in the shop today and said he had heard a voice outside. It kept repeating itself, he said. I was surprised when he admitted to needing a few moments to figure it out.

“Oink,” he had heard it say. “Oink. Oink. Oink.” At least I got the word right. I was hustling back from the bank and – don’t tell – I crossed against light.

“Wait,” spoketh the post. “No comprendo,” I replied.

Come visit!

McHuston

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