Thursday Debris. Literally

Over Memorial Day weekend, I started cleaning out the garage. Or, as I told Ann, go Marie Kondo on it — getting rid of a lot of the contents, one way or another. Ann said she thought that might be a misinterpretation of Ms. Kondo’s ideas, but I don’t care, since I have no intention of watching her videos or TikToks or however she gets her message out. Call it willful misinterpretation.

The process continues, sometimes on the weekends since, sometimes in the evenings. I’ve made some progress. Besides simple decluttering, a lot of dust and leaves and other debris has been swept out. The worst of it involved removing boxes torn by an invading squirrel in winters past.

So far I’ve filled our 90-gallon trash can three times, along with the 90-gallon recycle bin, and I’m working on a fourth for each. Other items have been given to a resale shop. A small number of things have come into the house, since I’ve deemed them too useful to be in the garage.

I’ve found things I’d forgotten we had, and which should have gone long ago. Such as items from earlier years in the lives of my daughters. This box and its contents, for instance.

It moved with us from the western suburbs. I know that because I wrote which bedroom the movers were to take it, in the new house — this house — nearly 19 years ago. Ann used it in those days. Ann, who’s in college now. Lilly probably used it before that. Lilly, who’s a grown woman in Seattle.

Did I feel sentimental about it? Slightly. Very slightly. Enough to post the picture here. But that’s all. Knowing that absolutely no one would want the dirty old plastic within, I emptied the box into the trash can, and then (after taking the picture), broke the box down for recycling. Whatever sentiment I felt ebbed away as I inhaled some dust.

Cement Mixer

Over 95 F. degrees here yesterday, on the occasion of the summer solstice — a near-record in metro Chicago for this day, the weather record-keepers say. That didn’t keep men hired by the village from further work on the street, including the appearance of a cement mixer. I didn’t take a picture, but I did think of the song of that name. Who wouldn’t?

I didn’t realize there were quite so many recordings until I looked into it. The always wonderful Slim Gaillard, of course, was first.

Then there’s the big band stylings — and perhaps more mainstream version — of Alvino Rey.

I’d heard those. But there’s also one by Liberace, of all people, who naturally had fun with it, and a hip early ’60s version by the Orlons. And more. (Mel Tormé? Well, I might listen to that sometime.)

Not Much of a Heat Wave

Heat wave! Plus rain in the wee hours tomorrow. The weathermen and women are no doubt excited. But it’s a small heat wave. It won’t even been 80 degrees F. by Saturday. Good timing, I’d say.

Workers showed up this morning and, as predicted, started making noise. Digging a hole in a modern street will do that.infrastructure
infrastructure

The pipe went in when I had other things to do, so I didn’t watch it go in. Still, it was soon buried, though leaving a rough patch of gravel to be buried itself when the village gets around to repaving the street.infrastructure

The good part is that it only took them about three hours to plant the pipe in the earth, which I hope will do what it’s suppose to do, such as keeping storm water away from my property.

(Very) Local Infrastructure

A sizable and fast-moving storm blew through Monday evening around 6, complete with strong wind, heavy rain and a municipal siren warning of a tornado that did not, fortunately, materialize. Second time for the sirens in the last few weeks. Is the village quicker to sound them than before? It certainly seems that way, but I have no data to prove it.

Clear and hot today. As in, above 90 F. But it’s a Northern summer: temps will drop toward the end of the week.

Usually I don’t mind working at home. Usually it’s pretty quiet, except when the dog gets excited. Summer bonus: I can repair to our deck from time to time. Even on days like today, our honey locust provides excellent shade.

Soon it isn’t going to be quiet. A major machine arrived across the street from my house today, and more to the point, across the street from the side of my house that includes my home office.

Those pipes will be installed, and eventually, the street will be resurfaced. I predict noisiness in the near future.

I’ve been warned. The village sent us a mailing at least a month ago. Still, it’s a mild surprise when the equipment actually shows up. Last week, a fellow came by and cut enigmatic (to me) lines in the street and some driveway entrances.

He only took a few minutes, but it was loud. A taste of things to come.

The Road to Salt Lake City

On the afternoon of May 20, we drove from Canyonlands NP to Salt Lake City by way of U.S. 191 (including a short stretch of I-70), U.S. 6 and I-15. The reds and oranges of southern Utah were soon left behind for a more monochromatic sort of desert.Book Mountains, Utah

We stopped briefly in Green River, Utah (pop. a little less than 1,000), to find a bathroom and change drivers. I also spotted something unexpected in the small but green O.K. Anderson City Park.Green River Utah Athena Missile OK Anderson Park

An Athena missile casing, a relic of the nearby Green River Test Site, where the Air Force shot off 141 such missiles from 1964 to 1973, all aimed at the White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico (though one hit Mexico once. Oops).

“The program was developed to study missiles’ re-entry behavior and test anti-ballistic missile defenses through the simulation of the full flight dynamics of an ICBM within the confines of the U.S.,” notes the sign near Green River’s missile. Later (until 1975), the Air Force tested 61 Pershing missiles from Green River and trained U.S. and West German troops on their use at the site. Bet that was a plumb posting for the Germans.

Also in the park: a memorial to Bert Loper, whom I’d never heard of. A pioneer in whitewater river-running. Died at 79 on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon doing exactly that.Green River Utah Bert Loper Memorial OK Anderson Park

Further north, we made a spontaneous stop in Helper, Utah. Originally a railroad junction, and supposedly named after helper engines kept there by the railroad, Helper thrived on coal mining for many years — it is, after all, in the aptly named Carbon County.

Main Street in Helper.Helper Utah Main Street

Mining still goes on in the county, but these days Helper seems to be evolving into an arts and tourist town, presumably having been discovered by hipsters from Salt Lake City, only 100-plus miles away. Mormon hipsters? Why not? With the way SLC is growing these days, it’s probably producing more hipsters than it needs locally, and so can export them to Utah towns with colorful histories.

But Helper isn’t going to forget mining. Not if Big John has anything to say about it.
Helper Utah Main Street Big John

The fiberglass miner has been standing in Helper since the 1960s. He’s in front of the Streamline Moderne municipal building, built by the WPA.
Helper Utah Main Street Big John

Main Street Helper has examples of both buildings renovated for our time —Helper Utah Main Street Helper Utah Main Street

— and those with that potential.Helper Utah Main Street Helper Utah Main Street

At one end of Main Street is a handsomely restored Conoco filling station.Helper Utah Main Street Conoco Helper Utah Main Street Conoco Helper Utah Main Street Conoco

A sign on the door says the place is listed on Airbnb, so you can stay there.

Helper is also home to the Western Mining and Railroad Museum, which was closed when we passed through town. But some of its exhibits are outdoors, on a small lot nearby: mining equipment.Helper Utah Railroad and Mining Museum Helper Utah Railroad and Mining Museum Helper Utah Railroad and Mining Museum

Further north from Helper, at a rest stop on U.S. 6 — Tie Fork Rest Area — is one of the more elaborate historical displays I’ve ever seen at such a place.Tie Fork Rest Stop Tie Fork Rest Stop

Go for the bathroom, stay to look at the locomotive and the other displays about railroading in Spanish Fork Canyon, which unsurprising involved hauling a lot of coal.

We made it to greater SLC in time for dinner at a place specializing in Korean-style fried chicken. We had a number of inexpensive options for dinner, because we were in a college town.

Provo, that is. We took a drive around the BYU campus, a sprawling presence at the base of the Wasatch Mountains: 560 acres with more than 300 buildings. Got the barest glimpse. At that moment, finding and feasting on Korean fried chicken was the priority instead. Travel is like that sometimes.

An NFT 42 Years in Development

Not too long ago, I found this poster tucked away in a corner of my house. The year had to have been 1980, considering that April 16 was a Wednesday that year. Not only do I not remember the event mentioned on the poster — a lecture at Vanderbilt — I don’t remember why I saved it in the first place.

So I decided to post it in the downstairs bathroom, which has been pending renovation for some years now. At 17 inches tall and 11 wide, it covers 187 square inches of bald and unconvincing wall.

I remember Oakley Ray, VU professor and text book author, but faintly. I audited one of his classes, attending maybe 10 times at most. I don’t know whether I went to the event or not, but I do remember one other thing from that week, something that stands out a lot darker in memory — a dark star of a memory from April 1980, seeing Eraserhead at a movie theater.

NFT 4.24.22Simply put, that movie depicted a nightmare. That was my take on it 40+ years ago, and I don’t see any reason to revise it now. I emerged from the theater that night positive I never needed to see it again. I’ve stuck to that, too.

Never mind all that. I’ve created a bit of digital artwork that’s an NFT. Bidding starts at $100,000.

An Excellent Story for Earth Day, Mrs. Maisel

It’s about time, backyard croci.

Today was warm, cloudy and windy, until the clouds let go a lot of water, and then another -y adjective came into play, rainy. Tomorrow will be rainy, windy and chilly, and it won’t get warm again till after Easter, I hear.

Got an email pitch the other day, one of very many. There was a fair amount of verbiage to it, but the heart of the matter was this line: Are you interested in speaking to XY, a holistic health expert, about the sharp rise in the use of anti-anxiety drugs and why taking hemp extract is better for your health?

The short answer is, no. A longer answer would also be no. And I feel not a jot of anxiety about my decision.

And another pitch, at about the same time:

We think this is an excellent story for Earth Day that your audiences will love. The nationally acclaimed eco-feminist artist XX is celebrated as the real-life Marvelous Mrs. Maisel of the art world.

Is she now? Got into art one drunken night when she was on the outs with her husband? I know that show has won some Emmys, and I’m enjoying episodes of the recently dropped fourth season (once a week), but it’s still interesting that the publicist believed it would be a widely enough known reference to make such a statement, silly as it is.

An Urban Ruin Explorer

Almost a warm day. Certainly not a cold one, which felt like a relief. I didn’t have as much time outside as I wanted, though we had a good dog walk at dusk and I spent time after dark on the deck, drinking tea. Much cooler by then, but no wind at all. With a coat and cap, not bad for half an hour.

Just discovered Chris Luckhardt. A talented photographer and videographer with a specialty in urban ruins. At least, that’s my estimation of him after watching his video about looking around the abandoned City Methodist Church in Gary, Indiana. Quite a wander. I plan to watch some more of his work.

Trepidation would probably keep me from going to exactly the sort of places he goes, but I understand the impulse. A healthy sense of exploration that involves the near as much as the far.

Savannah Bits

By the time we got to Factors Walk in downtown Savannah on March 7, it was already dark. Daytime pictures of the area, which used to be home to the sizable business of selling and shipping cotton, are available here.

The ground floor of the Factors Walk buildings facing the Savannah River are mostly oriented to tourists these days, including restaurants and small shops. I bought some postcards at a souvenir store, and when I told the clerk where I lived (he asked), he further asked whether Illinois has mandatory auto emissions tests. I said it does.

He said, as a life-long resident of Savannah, he only recently found out that some states do that. He looked to be in his 30s. It seemed to be a subject of some fascination for him.

Later I checked, and I was only partly correct. Only some counties in Illinois test auto emissions — Cook and Du Page among them, the only counties I’ve ever lived in here. Some Georgia counties do too, but not Chatham, where Savannah is located.

Some of the tourist attractions at Factors Walk are more mobile than the stores, such as the good tourist ship Georgia Queen, apparently docked for the evening.Georgia Queen

Another thing I heard from a resident: St. Patrick’s Day is a big to-do in Savannah, probably even bigger this year after two years of cancelation. We came to town nearly two weeks ahead of all that, and so were able to find a room. Closer to the event and we’d have been out of luck, even booking as I did in January.

Some houses were already ready for the festivities, such as along Jones St.Savannah

Other places had more topical colors flying.Savannah 2022

Savannah is easily as picturesque as Charleston, maybe more so, but it needs more stylish cast-iron covers.Savannah 2022

The first evening we were in town, I took a walk near the Isseta Inn. I chanced by the Gingerbread House. I knew it was called that because of the sign out front.Ginger Bread House Savannah

“Built in 1899 by Cord Asendorf, this magnificent house is considered among the finest examples of Steamboat Gothic architecture in America,” the house web site asserts. These days it hosts weddings and other events.

Even closer to the Isetta Inn — on the next block — evidence that the neighborhood continues to gentrify.Savannah 2022

Savannah 2022Though a little clogged with traffic, Victory Drive is a good drive, among the palms that line it. There is some commercial development, including this sign — which has its own Atlas Obscura page. We weren’t inspired to buy anything there.

The town of Tybee Island has very little free parking. I understand the reasons: lots of visitors, infrastructure needs to be maintained, etc. Still, that grated, especially since it applied even on a Sunday, which is when we drove through.

So besides The Crab Shack, which had a gravel parking lot shaded by tall trees, the only place we stopped was along U.S. 80 on the outskirts of town, where no meters or fee signage existed.

We took a look at a small cluster of shops on the road.Tybee Island 2022 Tybee Island 2022 Tybee Island 2022

More interestingly, visited Fish Art Gallerie. It has its own Roadside America item, though not including a lot of information. “The folk art environment/gallery/store of Ralph Douglas Jones, who turns junk into fish art. Much colorful nonsense is visible from the street,” RA says.

This is a video of the founder Jones. The guy at the counter when we visited didn’t look like him, which is too bad, since meeting Ralph might be the same kind of trip as meeting Randy in Pittsburgh.Tybee Island Fish Art 2022 Tybee Island Fish Art 2022 Tybee Island Fish Art 2022 Tybee Island Fish Art 2022

Ann bought some beads and other small items, I bought a cast-iron bottle opener in the shape of a turtle.

One more pic from Tybee Island.Tybee Island 2022

Just more of the trees that helped make visiting this part of the country a delight.

The Isetta Inn

At one of the corners of Whitaker St. and W. 37th St. in Savannah stands the Isetta Inn, where we stayed three nights.Isetta Inn, Savannah

I didn’t take careful notes when I read a framed article hung on a stairway landing at the Isetta, and I can’t find it posted on line, but I do remember it said that the property was built in 1907, suffered a period of neglect much later in the 20th century (of course) and might have been torn down, but it was restored to magnificence by a dedicated renovationist in the early 21st century. Now it’s a one-of-a-kind hotel.

Its fate could have been like the lot cater-cornered across the intersection. Wonder what used to be there.Isetta Inn, Savannah

I had time to mull that question, which I don’t really need to answer, sitting in one of the red rocking chairs on the Isetta’s delightful front porch. I spent some time there, both during the day and in the evening, reading or just gazing out into the surrounding neighborhood, the Starland District. Both 37th and Whitaker are fairly busy streets, and that stretch of 37th especially is a boulevard shaded by tall southern live oaks fully decked out with Spanish moss.Isetta Inn, Savannah

“Starland” doesn’t sound like an historic name, and it isn’t. Two Savannah College of Art and Design graduates reportedly dreamed up the moniker ca. 2000 to use for an arts district for the city.

“The idea of a vanguard arts district may seem counterintuitive in this slow-paced city of courtly manners and stately architecture, but after almost two decades, an emerging area called the Starland District may finally be hitting its stride,” the New York Times reported in 2015.

“… the Starland District is a collection of art studios, small offices, galleries, cafes and retail shops loosely assembled around Bull Street south of Savannah’s historic downtown and Forsyth Park.”

The lobby of the Isetta is an artful place — actually the whole property is — and so right at home in an arts district. In fact, the lobby displays local art on a rotating basis. The sliced off BMW trunk is the reception desk.Isetta Inn, Savannah Isetta Inn, Savannah

Adjacent to the lobby is an ornate but comfortable living room. I spent a while there as well, writing postcards. Wonder how often that happens.Isetta Inn, Savannah

The entrance to the right off the living room is to the kitchen, where guests could use a table, refrigerator, sink, plates and silverware, and a microwave, but not the stove or oven. We had cereal and other breakfast food — also available to guests — two of our mornings there, and leftovers for dinner one night.

A distinctive feature of the kitchen.Isetta Inn, Savannah

Our room, Hedwig’s Perch, was on the third floor. All of the hotel’s rooms have names, also including Sacred Tower, L-Suite, Polaroid Room, Alpha Romeo, and the posh Presidential. Just before we left, we noticed that the guests in that room had left before us, leaving the door open, so we got a peak inside. Posh indeed.

As for Hedwig’s Perch, it might have been a children’s bedroom originally, or maybe a sewing room, cozy as it was. But it did have two single beds, the only room at the inn with that feature, so I booked it. Two other rooms are on the third floor, and the three share one bathroom with a shower, and one without, off a short hallway. This was never an issue.

Our room was L shaped. Open the door and you see a bed with a cast-iron frame, a rolltop desk and a tree painted on the wall, complete with Spanish moss. Ann had to tell me who Hedwig was: Harry Potter’s owl.Isetta Inn, Savannah

The walls, according to the inn, were “custom painted by famed artist Dame Darcy.” I had to look her up, but the world is full of things I don’t know. Could be I’m not in the right demographic, since she’s known for illustrating works like Vegan Love: Dating and Partnering for the Cruelty-Free Gal, with Fashion, Makeup & Wedding Tips and for Tarot decks that went viral.

Then again, demographics are limiting. After all, some young men were reportedly fond of My Little Pony, so there’s no real reason late middle age/early old age men can’t enjoy, for example, Dame Darcy’s autobiographical graphic novel, Hi Jax & Hi Jinx (Life’s a Pitch and Then You Live Forever). But odds are I won’t read it.

Dame Darcy’s arboreal theme continues along the rest of the wall. I slept in the cast-iron bed, under the 2-D tree canopy. The bed squeaked at a low pitch, even when I wasn’t moving, that would have kept me awake for hours had I not figured out to keep the bed absolutely flush with the wall.Isetta Inn, Savannah

Around the corner of the L is another bed, or a reading nook, which is where Ann slept.
Isetta Inn, Savannah

For all its high-polish artistic charms, I’m glad to say Isetta wasn’t vastly expensive. I’ve paid about as much for soulless middle- and upper-middle chain hotel rooms, and somehow staying in a soulless room in a city like Savannah would have been a damned shame. I haven’t worked out exactly why the Isetta was named for the bubble car of that name, but the web site does say the following, attributed to owner Jonathan.

“I’m big believer in alternative transportation to improve quality of life for us. We have a fleet of rental bicycles available to all guests. We are perfectly located for you to see all the sites on two wheels. I also personally have a few examples of historical ‘alternative transportation’ ideas in the form of micro cars. Such as a 1950s BMW Isetta that is our namesake.”

That’s pretty cool, but I’ll bet the bubblecar that’s for hard-core enthusiasts is the Soviet SMZ cyclecar.