Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: Coweta (Page 23 of 108)

Framed. And liking it.

Feeling a little Hoity-Toity. An evening visitor at the front counter looked across the store and said:

I love your Larry Greer.

As in… original watercolor painting by artist Larry Greer that’s hanging on the wall of the shop, a painting I’ve owned all of my adult life. And my customer is talking about it with authority.

That was from his post-European-visit phase, she said.

Oh.

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According to her – and I have no reason to disbelieve – the late Mr. Greer was first known as a painter of western-style art. It was a long time ago when I bought the painting and I don’t remember anything else that was on display under his canopy.

It was at the Italian Festival at McAlester, years ago. Back then, the event was a big deal and was attended by at least one of the big-city television stations every couple of years. I don’t know if it has survived as an annual festival or not – shame on me.

The year the Original Greer (I may start calling it that from now on…hoity-toity-like), the year it came into my hands, I was a young DJ working afternoon drive radio in McAlester. The festival committee apparently decided that the way to entice some higher quality artists to display their works was to guarantee that some paintings would be sold.

We were asked as business-folks to promise to shell out some money. I offered to spend eighty dollars (and what was I thinking?) That amount was – as I recall – the figure I was paying for monthly rent. Eighty dollars doesn’t sound like so much now, but think about your own monthly mortgage or rent payment.

Yikes.

What can I say? I was a civic-minded knucklehead and not so good with finances.

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The Italian Festival rolled around and – always one to stand behind my word – I dug into the cigar box and pulled out those saved-up twenty dollar bills. After polishing off a plate of spaghetti and ravioli, I wandered around the grounds looking for something that might liven up my apartment.

Maybe something out of the ordinary, just a tad.

Larry Greer handed over his watercolor and it has been in my custody since. I’ve never known much about it except how it came to be on my wall. Not too long ago, a woman spoke to Dustin about it and later returned with a printed page about an Oklahoma City art auction. It showed the sale of a companion piece to the one I own.

Same red-capped fellow in the same matte and frame, but painted in profile. Auctioned for some twelve-hundred dollars. It made me feel better about spending my eighty all those years ago. It’s still valued at about the same as a rent payment.

Then today, the lady says: I love your Larry Greer.

I may have gotten eighty dollars worth of satisfaction just having someone recognize it. Not a Picasso or Remington print, but still.

Nice to have a life-long companion get a little attention.

It’s Friday night – Late Night – in the Rose District! We’ll be serving lunch tomorrow, so…

Come visit!

McHuston

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

Early Morning Surprises and the Good Old Daze.

There’s a saying about having one’s past come back to haunt. My long-ago years popped up this morning – in the newspaper, by all evidence. The article from the Broken Arrow Ledger had been clipped out and was hand delivered by a friend shortly after I unlocked the front door.

I had almost forgotten about the interview and picture-taking session with Mr. Dapron, the fellow who asked if he could chat with me about my sports background. Understanding that topic would make for a short conversation, I had agreed to it.

Wasn’t sure how that was going to work out.

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Before Doug Quinn retired from the Ledger and was still manning their sports desk, we bumped into each other on several occasions and wound up talking sports and reporting. Mr. Quinn covered a lot of sports and – like the territory I covered during my tenure – it was mostly smaller towns (although Broken Arrow certainly is out of that category these days).

There was common ground that only someone covering small-town sports could understand, things like rickety football stadium press boxes and lavish hospitality offerings at college basketball arenas. (The Oral Roberts University staff used to set out some great food and sodas for the reporters back when I had a press pass.) Although plenty of people talk into microphones about high school sports across the state, it is still a small fraternity, and people wind up crossing paths.

I’m guessing Doug must have mentioned something about former sports reporters, or something. That’s where Duane Dapron comes in – armed with a notepad and a camera.

I appreciate his time and the fact that he was able to make me sound more interesting than I am. The publicity actually brought a couple of groups at lunchtime who hadn’t realized until reading the article that we offered food as well as books.

Even though I was caught off-guard this morning, I later had time to read the story and could appreciate Mr. Dapron’s efforts. He was very patient during the interview, despite the fact that we had to pause several times so I could run over to the front counter.

So, a big Thanks! to the Broken Arrow Ledger – and Duane Dapron in particular – for a nice article about the shop and the Old Days when the microphones were more than just shelf-top displays.

I’m just trying to figure out who the old man in the picture is.

Little Red Corvette (wannabe…)

Wow. Just as advertised.

Opened the cap and poured it into the tank. Got in the car and drove off. Two blocks from the auto parts store, the SERVICE ENGINE SOON light went out.

It has been on for weeks.

The plastic bottle label says STP Fuel Injector Treatment, and since I figured that was the problem – I grabbed one from the shelf and headed to the checkout counter. Best $5 purchase I’ve made in a long time.

As it turns out, you can’t leave gasoline in the tank for over year. Maybe you could once upon a time, and maybe back then it wouldn’t have turned out quite so badly. These days, the ethanol sold at most pumps begins to turn into corn syrup or some such thing after a while.

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Since Little Red had been sidelined in the mechanic’s lot for longer than I care to admit, the fuel had gone all molasses on me. There wasn’t much in the tank to go sour but after the repair I filled up with fresh Premium Grade – it must have still been thick enough to drizzle over pancakes.

The poor little Firebird has been huffing and puffing, chugging and slugging its way through the gears. It had just enough oomph to make it into the parts store parking lot.

The purchase. The pour. The startup.

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When I wheeled out of the lot and pulled out onto the street, I was thinking:

Nah. Couldn’t work that fast.

Then, a blink from the dashboard made me look. Two blocks away from the store and the SERVICE ENGINE light had gone out.

Vroom Vroom.

Miracle juice, I guess – at least for Little Red. I imagine there are any number of folks who have tried the same stuff without success. But hey! The car was a long way from curing itself before I emptied the bottle into the tank.

I think I’ve probably noted here already that my good friend Mark once pointed out that I changed jobs the way that he changed cars – and I hung on to my cars like he stuck to his job. (I probably would have met with greater career success had I followed his example…)

As it is, the little red Firebird will be celebrating its 20th birthday in a few months. I’ve only been here in the bookstore for half that time, but it is longer than any other place I’ve clocked in over the years. Still enjoying it.

And STP permitting, I’ll keep pulling Little Red into the parking space outside until we’re both best suited for the scrap heap.

We’ll be revving it up at lunchtime with something tasty, so…

Come visit!

McHuston

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

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