A couple of Saturdays back, I was walking home with my daughter and two neighbor kids. We had taken a field trip to Laury’s Bakery over near Madison and Austin for some essential treats.
As we re-entered our cul-de-sacced paradise on the 300 block of South Humphrey, we stopped to look at the muddy tire tracks on the traffic circle “island” at the end of our street. Trucks can’t make the tight turn, so they often run up over the curb and leave their mark on our little patch of green.
My first grade accomplice calmly noted that “once every year, not every season, but every year,” some lunatic barrels down our street, having missed the warning signs about dead ends and a cul-de-sac, and takes out either the light pole or the, perpetually, small tree that populate the island, or both.
That very night, as I lay sleeping, Mr. Mope 2007 arrived and flattened the tree, just scraping the light pole. I’m told by more wakeful neighbors that several police cars arrived near instantaneously and discouraged Mr. Mope from high-tailing it from the site on foot. A test of alcohol content followed and the driver was allegedly dispatched to a quieter place for contemplation.
Saw my clairvoyant young neighbor the next morning and expressed my astonishment at his calling out the event. Well, he explained again, “It happens once each year. Not every season. But once a year.”
Pretty quick: I toil on this lonely blog–though I ought to toil more frequently?#34;with little response to show for it. Well last week I made a passing comment about how Wendy’s ought to repave its parking lot as my Super Sonic Soft Drink keeps spilling as I careen through the potholes.
Not only did I get a response within minutes, it came from Village Trustee Ray Johnson. Not only did I get a response from Ray Johnson, but he told me that Wendy’s was not only fixing the potholes, it was knocking down the whole restaurant and building a new one.
The power of one little blog entry.
Unsolicited advice: Had cause over the weekend to visit the Resurrection Immediate Care Center at Harlem and North. (You don’t want to know.) Sitting reading the signs in the waiting room reminded me that health care professionals should not be allowed to order signs that will be engraved in plexiglass and hung on walls for years at a time.
The offending sign read:
“As a courtesy to our ill and fasting patient, NO EATING allowed in the waiting room.”
I looked around that empty waiting room for their ill and fasting patient and saw no one. He must have expired.