Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: Featured (Page 4 of 43)

You say tomato. I say toe-mah-to. Aw, heck. I do not.

Maybe they thought I was a basket-case. The baskets of fruits and vegetables in front of the bookstore just didn’t happen, but – with a couple of exceptions – the artist’s rendering of the Rose District is very similar to the finished project.

The most obvious difference between the brainstorming phase of Broken Arrow’s Main Street makeover and the final product is that center median in the image (click it for a better view). Maybe a median and trees would eliminate those U-turns for opposite direction parking, but I have my doubts. I am pretty sure the trees in the drawing would quickly outgrow those narrow planters.

Then there is that fruit and vegetable stand in front of our bookshop, and maybe that’s the artist’s depiction of me in the picture, leaning over and lining up the tomatoes. I used to have some high-water pants like those.

roseDistrictRendering

The image is courtesy of John Ferguson, whose story in the Broken Arrow Ledger looks back on the groundwork and research that went into planning the streetscape makeover.

Main Street Tavern is easily recognizable in the image as the red brick once-upon-a-time bank building – center right – with the multicolor sidewalk umbrellas. The brown awning just below the New Orleans-style iron-railed balcony these days has the logo for Glamour Gowns. Our own awning – is missing.

We were on Main Street when the concept was introduced, just a ways down the road back then. The books and shelves were all moved into the current location just in time for all the orange construction barrels and protective fencing. Well, we survived it.

And haven’t regretted making the move.

I have often shared the observation included in the news story – that Main Street was largely deserted in the early evening hours, and certainly was by dark. When I closed up the shop and drove through the old downtown, it was rare to see a single parked car.

These days, it is just as rare to find a parking space.

Some folks complain about that, and I don’t know quite how to respond. Parked cars are a sign of business and customers. Commerce and such. Tax dollars and all that. My thinking is that – if you pull into a restaurant parking lot at lunchtime and there aren’t any other cars – maybe you should look somewhere else for eats. The good places are busy, because people want to be there.

I’m happy that people want to be in the Rose District. They’ve already announced plans to work the side streets for more parking. And most of us think nothing of parking on the north-forty at Walmart and walking to the door. It’s a longer walk from one end of Woodland Mall to the other, than it is from any parking space near the Rose District businesses.

Come on down. You’ll find plenty of things to do. Paint a picture. Smoke a cigar. Try on a formal gown. Sample chocolate. Have dinner. Shop for a unique gift. Or even buy a rose. The Rose District has you covered.

Except – no apples or tomatoes on the sidewalk in front of the bookstore.

The tomatoes are on your sandwich, at lunchtime. Come visit!

McHuston

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

Reading the Book Data.

I admit to being naïve. I think I’ve confessed to that in an earlier posting. You’d expect that, I imagine, from someone who opened a bookstore in this age of streaming videos, audio books, and X-boxes.

I don’t mean to say I’m gullible. I cultivate a healthy measure of skepticism. I did lose forty bucks at a traveling carnival once, and maybe that was being gullible. Or it could have been misplaced pride, thinking I was good enough at throwing a baseball that I could hit a target and win a stuffed prize. Found out later it was a rigged game, so I suppose the lost forty bucks amounted to the dues-paying of a rube.

bookNap

Naïve is leaving the garage door open and driving down the street to the convenience store. Never was a problem in my small-town upbringing. In Tulsa, I lost a toolbox to a thief in less than ten minutes of away-time. Took me ten years to inventory the loss, since I only realized what was gone when I needed a particular tool and discovered I no longer owned it.

In the case of the shop, having grown up around books, I mistakenly believed that EVERYONE was a reader – and assumed books and reading to be a shared human passion.

Boy.

Was I wrong.

Naïve.

I’ve probably told you this one before, but I love repeating my favorite non-reader bookshop customer anecdote. The fellow came tumbling in the front door as though he had popped through a time portal, and suddenly came up stock-still, throwing his hands on his hips.

“Books,” he said. “Would you look at all of these! What do you do with them all?”

As he seemed pretty serious with his question, I remarked that I offered them for folks to buy and read. He nodded in understanding.

“You know,” he replied, still gazing around at the shelves of books, “I used to have a friend who knew somebody who read books.”

And I can tell he was proud enough of the fact that – I just let it go without responding, nodding in honest admiration.

Today’s naiveté eye-opener comes courtesy of the New York Times, reporting on a new Pew Research Center survey in which 27 percent of American adults said they had not read a book in the past year. I always tend to round-off numbers, so – to me – that figure represents a third of all adults. One in three.

Pretty sure that my over-consumption is doing nothing to offset that statistic.

And that, my friends, is why the sign on the store-front awning says BOOKS & BISTRO. Offering a little light fare at lunchtime hedges the bet a little: I’m figuring that if folks don’t read at all, or are taking up the electronic reading device, at some point they might want a nice cup o’ Irish Stew.

Or meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

I’ll have to check the Pew research data on that one.

Come visit!

McHuston

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

Faith an’ Begorrah! Another St. Paddy’s Day in the Books.

If you’re lucky enough to be Irish, then you’re lucky enough. And EVERYBODY is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. I’m writing this thinking back on the days of Paddy’s Irish in Tulsa, when the lunch hour was over and we could begin gearing up for the big night.

Because it was during the evening hours that everything kicked into gear. Standing room only, five-deep around the bar, plates and plates of corned beef, live music, and the annual march-through of the kilt-clad bagpipers.

StPat2

My kilt still fits, as it turns out. (It hasn’t changed, but I have – and I’m lucky to be back down to once-a-year-kilt-wearing-size.) I didn’t march around with any bagpipes, but I did run behind my daughter on several occasions carrying drinks and plates of corned beef.

They were plates to be proud of, to my way of thinking. I made a lot of corned beef in my Tulsa restaurant days at Paddy’s Irish (not just a once-a-year thing), and Dustin’s offering at our St. Patrick’s lunch today was everything you’d expect. Attractive on the plate, delicious to the taste. And as our neighbor at Hollow Tree Gifts (a find shopping boutique in the Rose District!) – as JoAnn reported back, “it’s so tender a baby could eat it!”

We sold out, needless to say, but made it almost through the lunch service before switching to the shepherd’s pies and the regular menu. Better to run out than throw out, the way I look at it.

A public Thanks! to Kristen for waiting the tables today, and another big Thanks! to Dustin for all his hard work in the kitchen. There is no question that – as fun as St. Patrick’s Day was at Paddy’s back in the day – I enjoyed our shamrock and corned beef lunch party a lot more. Less stress. Shorter hours.

And fewer Irish-revelers hanging on to the floor for dear life and partying into the wee hours.

So, I’ll be putting some of the party decorations away. Others stay put. We’re Irish everyday here, not just around the seventeenth of March. Remember, there are no strangers here, only friends you’ve not yet met. So,

Come visit!

McHuston

(PS The strangers and friends line is courtesy of our Irish poet friend W.B Yeats, from whom I borrow with gratitude.)

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