Category Archives: Retail

Ampelmann

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Spend enough time as a pedestrian in the former East Berlin – and it doesn’t actually take that long – and you begin to notice that the Walk/Don’t Walk signals aren’t like anywhere else. Green and red, respectively, like everywhere else, but otherwise unique cartoon men in hats.

This is the Walk sign.Ampelmann in situ

That probably would have remained a passing thought for us, but at the Berlin Hauptbahnhof we spotted a store selling goods and souvenirs based on the cartoon man, who has a name: Ampelmann, that is, Traffic Light Man. The postcards were a bit expensive, but I was so amused I bought one to send and one to keep.

I sent the Walk green Ampelmann and kept the card with the Don’t Walk red Ampelmann (see below), who stands in front of various noteworthy structures in Berlin, such as the Brandenburg Gate, the TV tower at Alexanderplatz, and the Victory Column in the Tiergarten. The Walk green Ampelmann card has the same structures, but he’s strolling past them.

We also picked up an fine intangible souvenir when we learned about Traffic Light Man and his robust gait and distinctive headwear. It’s hard to know when you’ll find those, but find them you do if you’re paying just a little attention. Also, he’s a bit of fun on the beaten path — what could be more literally a beaten path than a street crosswalk?

The woman behind the counter told me that the lights were created in East Berlin in the 1960s, and when reunified Berlin wanted to phase them out in the 1990s, Berliners east and west weren’t having it. By then he was no mere traffic accessory, but a small yet vivid cultural phenomenon, star of comic strips, games and radio spots. He was too popular to be erased from street crossings throughout the east. So he remains, a rare beloved relic of the DDR, though I understand his backlights are now thoroughly modern LEDs.

I got an additional souvenir in the form of a bag from the shop.Ampelmann bag Ampelmann bag

The story of Ampelmann, first drawn in 1961, is told by the web site of that name, including information about his creator, Berlin resident Karl Peglau (d. 2009), who is described as a traffic psychologist. I can’t ever remember hearing about that profession before, but I’d say that traffic in a lot of places could use professional help. Whatever your job, you could do a lot worse for a legacy than Ampelmann.

The main Ampelmann shop is on Unter den Linden. We must have walked right past it. But somehow we didn’t miss the DDR Museum a little further on, where the thoroughfare is called Karl-Liebknecht-Straße – another relic of East Berlin (before that, it was Kaiser-Wilhelm-Straße).

We didn’t feel like visiting the museum itself, but we did go to the gift shop.

As my wont, I got a few more postcards, while Jay got a refrigerator magnet. This one: Marx, Engels and Lenin. None of them, of course, lived long enough to encounter refrigerator magnets, but I’m pretty sure they would have denounced them as bourgeois frivolity. All the more reason to get some.

The Balloon-Blowing Couple on Their Way to Ústí nad Labem, Tokyo Banana World & Three Major Train Stations

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On the afternoon of March 12, a gray, chilly day, Jay and I arrived at the Main Railway Station in Prague (Praha hlavní nádraží) to catch the EC 170 back to Berlin, leaving at 4:28 pm. We were early, and had time to look around the station.Praha hlavní nádraží

A grand edifice. “One of the final glories of the dying empire,” notes the 2002 Rough Guide to the Czech & Slovak Republics, though perhaps “ramshackle empire” might have been more apt, since who knew the catastrophe of WWI would play out quite the way it did.

“It was designed by Joseph Fanta and officially opened in 1909 as the Franz Josef Station,” the guide book continues. “Arriving in the subterranean modern section, it’s easy to miss the station’s surviving Art Nouveau parts. The original entrance on the Wilsonova still exudes imperial confidence, with its wrought iron canopy and naked figurines clinging to the sides of the towers.”

The grand hall interior is grand indeed.Praha hlavní nádraží Praha hlavní nádraží

But largely empty. The crowds were at the more modern lower level, where a long tunnel connects all the train platforms, ticket offices and a fair amount of retail. We boarded our train without any problem and found that our car was nearly empty too. Not many people were headed for Berlin that Wednesday evening.

At one of the suburban stations, however, a young man and young woman got on and sat across the aisle in our car. They had that contemporary Euro-look: casually dressed, visible tattoos here and there, a few studs and earrings for both, and the mandatory beard for the man. They were in a merry mood. Not obnoxiously loud, but making happy-sounding conversations in what I assume was Czech, complete with the universal language of giggling; clearly a couple headed somewhere for some fun. Someone’s wedding, or maybe just a few days off work.

None of that was unusual. Then the woman removed a small air cylinder from her backpack and started using it to blow up balloons, which she and the man proceeded to swat around the car. I’ve been on a lot of trains in a lot of places, but I have to say, that was a first.

That didn’t last long. Soon they got off the train at the last station before the border with Germany, Ústí nad Labem, and the car got quiet again. I hope they continued to have a good time in that town.

On the trip down to Prague on the 10th, in a mostly full car, we had passed the same way going the opposite direction, and it was still daytime. So we got a good look at the hilly territory of the Elbe River Valley south of Dresden, where the train mostly follows the river. A picturesque spot, even in winter.

As for the German-Czech frontier, crossing was perfunctory. Hardly worth calling it a border. No officious or menacing border guards roamed the cars demanding Papers! (Reisepass?) Not in the 21st-century Schengen Area. We were on an Evening Train to Berlin, not a Night Train to Munich. The only indication of entering a new country (either way) was that after crossing each time, our tickets were checked again, electronically, by fairly laid-back workers of the respective railway companies on either side of the line.

The 175-mile trip to Prague began and ended at the Berlin Hauptbahnhof, a massive station that didn’t exist the first time I went to Berlin. A predecessor station on the site had been badly damaged during the war, and the new station wasn’t developed until the 2000s, as Berlin’s fancy new main multi-modal transit center. Besides intercity trains, Berlin S-bahn and U-bahn trains go there, along with a lot of buses. There is also enough retail at the station to qualify as its own mall.

Berlin Hauptbahnhof isn’t an old style, but it is impressive.Berlin Hauptbahnhof Berlin Hauptbahnhof Berlin Hauptbahnhof

One more impressive rail hub on this trip was a continent away: Tokyo Station, the busiest one in passenger numbers in that urban agglomeration, which is saying something. It too is a multi-modal facility, with various intercity rail lines meeting there, along with subways and buses. The Shinkansen from Osaka goes there, which is how we arrived. The structure dates from 1914 and amazingly survived war in the 1940s – and just as threatening – urban renewal in the 1960s. In more recent years, the station was restored to close to its original design.Tokyo Station Tokyo Station Tokyo Station

Under the main dome.Tokyo Station Tokyo Station

Plenty of retail at Tokyo Station as well. Including some places I’d never seen before. We should have stopped to get something from Tokyo Banana World.Tokyo Banana World

Per Time Out: “Tokyo Banana opened its flagship store called Tokyo Bananas inside Tokyo Station on December 8 [2022], and it’s stocked with exclusive goods. Two of the exclusive products are the Legendary Curry Bread and Cream and Red Bean Paste Doughnut — and yes, banana is the hidden ingredient for both.”

Ex Nippon semper aliquid novi, eh?

Palm Monorail, Dubai

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What was the monorail pitch like, for the line that now runs along the trunk of the Palm Jumeirah in Dubai? The Palm Monorail, it’s called.

Well, sir, there’s nothing on Earth like a genuine, bona fide, electrified, six-car monorail!

What’d I say?

Monorail!

What’s it called?

Monorail!

That’s right!

Monorail!

There probably wasn’t that much singing, or that much English, but whatever happened, the line has been up and running for about a decade and a half now. A go-to source (Wiki) tells me that it is the only monorail in the Middle East, which if true ought to spur the likes of Saudi Arabia into some monorail development, maybe in lieu of grander projects.Palm Monorail Palm Monorail

Sleek styling, as monorails ought to have, built by Hitachi Rail. Driverless.

I rode its entire 3.4-mile length and back on March 2, as part of my excursion to Palm Jumeirah. Levity aside, I can report a wholly positive experience. The ride didn’t cost much, the wait wasn’t long, the cars were busy but not packed, and the vantage offered some terrific views of the artificial islands that comprise Palm Jumeirah – the trunk and fronds, as they’re called, and their linear neighborhoods spreading out, always along the ocean.

I also wonder whether the monorail was an important enough component of the overall Palm Jumeirah project for decision-makers toward the very top – even the emir himself – to focus on it. Hard to say, since Palm Jumeirah was an epic project that involved creating a palm-shaped island with seven miles of coastline from 120 million cubic meters of sand and other material dredged from the sea, along with mountain rocks, putting a breakwater mostly around it, plus adding roads, bridges, utility networks and sundry infrastructure.

What set all that in motion was the pronouncement, “So let it be written, so let it be done.”

What’s one monorail in all that?Palm Jumeirah Palm Jumeirah

First stop, Nakeel Mall, named for the company that developed the Palm Jumeirah. Large enough, but nothing on the order of Dubai Mall, except for the high count of carriage-trade stores. The mall also provided access, down an outdoor staircase, to Al Ittihad Park, which runs part of the length of the trunk under the monorail.Palm Jumeirah Palm Jumeirah

Two walking-jogging trails run the length of the park as well. I walked.Palm Jumeirah Palm Jumeirah

The park is hemmed in by sizable structures on each side whose first floor (ground floor) is populated by high-end service providers, such as Petsville Palm Jumeirah, The Blowout Bar, The Golden Mile Gallery, Bedashing Beauty Lounge, and KIBERone IT school for children.

There were a fair number of benches for idlers and old men, but not a lot of occupants. I accessed a bench and for a little while watched a steady trickle of people walking the path, and mothers (or nannies) with young children visiting the playgrounds. Foliage blocked part of the sun, which was borderline intense that day.Palm Jumeirah

Quite the place, this neighborhood: created out of nothing not long ago, then Money was invited to live here. Money from wherever. And so it has, with an estimated population of about 25,000 out on the trunk and fronds.

You can speculate about some soggy future for such low-lying territory, but for now, it’s prime real estate. That means that engineers, who are paid to do so, are thinking about upgrades. I can’t pretend any knowledge of hydrology, so for all I know, their efforts will match those of King Cnut, but the abstract makes for interesting reading.

The end of the line for the monorail is at the tip of the Palm. A district of resorts, hotels and more upscale shopping.Palm Jumeirah
Palm JumeirahA short walk takes you from the station to a seaside path within sight of the storied Persian Gulf.Palm Jumeirah Palm Jumeirah Palm Jumeirah

Very storied. Going back at least to Sumer, up the coast a long way, but still on the shore of this sea.

Dubai Mall

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“How far is it to the Metro station? I mean, to walk?” I asked the clerk at my hotel in Dubai, a property not far from the airport that I had picked for that reason, and because it was supposedly close to a Metro station. Like many places, that is what Dubai calls its part elevated-part subway system. My maps had given me some clue about the walking distance, but it’s good to check with someone who might have personal knowledge.

Or not. “Five minutes,” she said, offering a standard answer. That actually wasn’t too far off in the grand scheme even of a single day, since the walk took about 10 minutes. In late February, that difference doesn’t make much difference, but I bet it does during the hotter months. Beginning soon, maybe?

I had a hankering to get around Dubai by Metro. So each time I rode the system, I first did the 10-minute walk along a moderately busy street, part of whose traffic was Emirates employees arriving at work, since the airline’s HQ is nearby. Coming to Dubai, I flew Emirates for the first time. It has a solid reputation among travelers, or at least did the last time I thought about it, but in any case I can report that the Airbus flight was good, including a number of small amenities (such as nice snacks), though inevitably legroom was a little short for a six-foot fellow such as myself. The flight attendant uniforms are pretty spiffy, though.

Travel on the Metro involves a Nol card. Once I found the right machine at the station, those were easy to buy and not particularly expensive. Nol, I understand, means “card” in Arabic, so what I acquired from the machine was a Card card good unlimited rides for 24 hours, total cost about $6, which one pays in UAE dirhams.

During my transit excursions, I had to make sure not to board the gold car – a single car upfront at a higher price – nor the women-and-children only cars on the rush hour trains. I almost boarded one of the latter, but I realized my mistake before I did. Not sure whether doing so would have merely been embarrassing, or whether transit cops would have shown up for a mandatory chat in a place that has no Fifth Amendment.

Everything about the Dubai Metro was easy. The only way it would have been more frictionless would have been no charge at all, which isn’t going to happen. As a relatively new system, built by a consortium of mostly Japanese companies and only in operation since 2009, the cars are clean and new, the signage (Arabic and English) is fairly clear, and I never had to wait long for a train.

On the other hand, most of my travels on the longest of the two lines, the Red Line, involved crowds as thick as any you’d see in rush hour New York or London or Tokyo. As diverse, too, though more heavily skewed toward South Asia, where most of the UAE’s non-citizen residents come from. A fair number of tourists packed in the cars as well, many of whom were from Europe, but probably also India – to judge by the flight from Delhi, Indians who can afford it take holidays Dubai. Another detail hints at large numbers of Indian visitors: my hotel room toilet came equipped with a spray nozzle.

After a few rides on the Red Line, I noticed that the crowd wasn’t quite like any other transit crowd in one way. Until the last few stations on the line, few people actually got off. People would get on and never seem to leave, station after station. I had time to reflect on that more than once as I stood for about 15 stations, waiting for someone to leave a seat. (I don’t look old enough for anyone to offer one, though I feel that way sometimes.)

In most subways, unless it’s absolute peak rush hour, there will be turnover from station to station. But not much in Dubai, at least according to my small sample.

Later I thought of a possible reason. Though there are two lines (and eventually will be a third), the Red Line is the main one across miles of the city, roughly paralleling the coastline. I can’t imagine that most low- and mid-level workers live that near their places of work, and so the Red Line forms one link in their commute, which also includes buses on one or both ends.

One exception was the Burj Khalifa/Dubai Mall station. A lot of people got off there. They were going to the mall. I did too. I’d read about the mall, known as one of the larger ones in the world, and one of the posher. I also knew that, for the last three decades or so, malls have been developed all over the world, including in places where they are big new hits, such as in China, Southeast Asia, India, Saudi Arabia and other places (Dubai, for instance), and not relics of a more expansive time, like they might be North America. So I figured it was worth seeing.

I noticed on the map that an elevated walkway goes from the station to the mall. I didn’t think about how long it might be. Soon I found out. One source says half a mile. Having walked it more than once, I believe it. Moving walkways made things a little easier, but the first time you go through, each section of the walkway makes you wonder how many more there will be. Close to the mall itself, but not in the mall, you go through a  passageway lined with snack shops and souvenir stores. Leaving, I found my entire supply of Dubai postcards at one of the latter, including stamps. International postcard rate: 3 dirhams. US 82 cents, not bad.

Before long you reach the entrance to the mall. I should have paid closer attention at that moment. Actually, I thought I did. But no: it would take a while for me to find that passage again, and my exit from the mall.

I spent maybe three hours wandering around the mall, unusual behavior for me. But part of the time I was lost. Not lost in the sense of they’ll find my bones somewhere, but rather disoriented for stretches of time. I expect the design encourages just such a reaction.

There are four full shopping floors and not a lot of right angles, and a sort-of oval shape overall, with extra branches snaking off in various directions (this is just the ground floor). Wayfinding isn’t bad, but the endless distractions in the stores and among the people passing by make it easy to miss an important directional sign. Most importantly: the place is huge.

Measured by gross leasable area – at 4.3 million square feet – Dubai Mall is the seventh largest in the world, according to Luxe Digital in 2024, though its floor area is 12 million square feet. That is, for every square foot of retail space, there are nearly two square feet of everything else. There is a lot of everything else: sweeping common areas, all bright and immaculate, a gargantuan aquarium, an ice-skating rink, the entrance to the Burj Khalifa observation decks, possibly two food courts, a thing called KidZania and naturally a multiplex cinema. And more. That could be the property’s informal motto: There’s Always More!

As for the stores, there are about 1,200 of them, many familiar (indeed, U.S. and European), others less so (Middle Eastern, South and East Asian, and some of the Euro-brands). Every upmarket brand you’ve ever heard of is going to be there, and then some. Many cluster in a section of mall called Fashion Avenue, which is big enough to be a standalone shopping center. Mid-market retailers seem to thrive in the mall as well, though some of the more everyday sorts of stores, such as a large grocery store, are to be found at the lowest level. There is an entire section of the mall called Chinatown, sporting Chinese retailers and restaurants and décor. Nice use of lanterns and neon. Also, supposedly you can play various sports on the roof of Dubai Mall. I didn’t look into that.

The mall was busy, and just as multicultural as the subway or the rest of Dubai. Signs tended to be in four languages: Arabic, since this is an Arab country, English for almost everyone else, plus Hindi and Russian, which must represent two large shopper blocs. It’s only three-and-a-half hour flight from Delhi, probably the same from Bangalore and certainly less from Bombay. As for Russia, much of Europe is off limits these days, but the UAE apparently isn’t; and maybe some Russians with the wherewithal are sitting things out in Dubai. Just speculating about that.

Slightly detached from the mall is the Souk Al Bahar, another 100 stores and a posh place indeed, done in “Arabesque” style (the mall’s term). It wasn’t nearly as crowded as the main mall, but I expect people who do go there are probably prepared to spend some serious dirhams. Me, I was just looking around, and as usual looking for a restroom. Time Out Dubai is in the souk as well, its restaurants tucked in a warren-like area, and so giving off a different vibe from the high-ceiling space occupied by Time Out Lisboa, though I’m sure the food is just as good.

Next to the mall and the souk is an enormous artificial pond, home to Dubai Fountain, which pushes water as high as 500 feet into the air periodically, with water jets choreographed to music and, at night, colorful lights. I didn’t know this before: It is a WET design – the same company, WET, that did the Bellagio fountain in Las Vegas and a lot of other fountains in a lot of other places.

Not long after noon, I surveyed lunch options at the end of the mall I happened to be, which was near the souk and the fountain. One option that had seating outside, within view of the fountain, was Five Guys. So lunch was al fresco that day, February 26, a serving of Five Guys fries and a drink, which is definitely enough. As I enjoyed my taters, some of sort of rousing Middle Eastern tune struck up, and the water show began. Nice work, WET.

I wasn’t lost all the time. Much of my visit was pure wander: a peek at store after store, level after level, up and down escalators, and looking for a restroom (one I visited twice was marble-and-mirror swanky, with more than one attendant in coat and tie, none of whom asked a tip, unlike India). I also passed by most property’s entertainment features, with none more impressive than the aquarium, even for those who don’t pay to go in. Officially, it is the Dubai Aquarium & Underwater Zoo. Shoppers just wandering through the mall can see one wall of the aquarium.

“Dive into an amazing aquatic world at Dubai Aquarium & Underwater Zoo — home to thousands of aquatic animals, over 140 marine species and a 270-degree walk-through tunnel,” says the mall’s web site, “Located within Dubai Mall, Dubai Aquarium & Underwater Zoo features a 10-litre tank [sic] containing more than 400 Sharks and Rays, including Sand Tiger Sharks, Giant Groupers and a wide array of amazing marine life.”

I’m sure that was a simple typo, but the absurdity of fitting all those sea creatures into 10 liters makes me smile. The actual size would be 10 million liters, a number I can believe, now that I’ve stood next to the two-story wall of glass holding all that water in. The sight is magnificent: enormous swirls of undersea life, schools and large fish and sharks in motion, as colorful as can be, and an attentive collection of shoppers, kids and adults, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

By about 3 pm, my energy was at a low ebb, so I made my way to Reel Cinema, the multiplex, to find a place to sit for a couple of hours. That is how I came to see Captain America: Brave New World in a nearly empty theater near the shores of the Persian Gulf. (There were a few boys in a row behind me: the intended audience.) The movie was the only one I didn’t mind seeing, at a starting time that wasn’t too far in the future. I suppose I could have taken in a Bollywood offering, just for the novelty of it, but I wasn’t feeling it.

The only modern Captain America movie I saw before was – something or other, but it was actually set in the 1940s. That’s the Captain America I know, vaguely. He fights Nazis. Brave New World has a now-ish setting and someone else is Captain America (both the actor and the character) and the villain is someone or other out for revenge for some reason or other. My interest in this particular franchise, and pretty much all of the “Marvel Cinematic Universe,” is fairly low. As in, next to nothing. The characters discussed, from time to time, things that had happened in previous movies, but I couldn’t get interested in that, either.

Still, the movie was fun to watch sometimes, such as the mano-a-mano fight scenes or the brisk violations of the laws of physics, or, come to think of it, the biological impossibility of Harrison Ford morphing into a red Hulk. (Hulks get to be different colors, like kryptonite?) Bonus extra for watching the movie in the UAE: Arabic subtitles. That, I think, was a first for me.

Algorithm Goo

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I could pay to ditch all the ads on YouTube, but for now I stop the them after five seconds – and leave pages that don’t offer that option, to teach the system not to do that. Sometimes I also marvel at just how wrong the algorithm seems to be in terms of pitching ads to me.

For some reason, for example, the bots are positive, completely positive (to anthropomorphize), that I’m going to open a restaurant soon. At least, that is my conclusion, since the same two ads for a restaurant supply store keep popping up again and again and again.

Also, some bot somewhere believes (to anthropomorphize again) that I’m in the market for a wife from one Slavic-language nation or another. Must be a guess based on the fact that I’m not young any more. But I’m not a fan of mail-order marriage, whatever the tech. Want a spouse from outside your cultural milieu? Go get her or him yourself, in person.

I haven’t seen an ad for this product, though I did see it on the shelf recently, which is about as random an appearance as many YouTube ads.

Another in the long list of things I will never buy.

Kokomo Oddities

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Near the courthouse square in Kokomo, standing next to a fairly busy intersection and the parking lot of a small office building, is Kokomantis, all of 17 feet tall and – in late December anyway – decked out for the holidays. That’s a big bug. The kind of thing begs you to look at it.Kokomantis Kokomantis Kokomantis

“Its torso and wings are crafted from World War II fuel pontoons, while the legs are made from stoplight arms, giving her an industrial yet graceful appearance,” Heidi Pruitt writes in The Kokomo Post. Local artist Scott Little and developer Scott Pitcher collaborated on the work, with its creation taking Little a reported total of 220 hours.

I wasn’t sure what a “fuel pontoon” was, so I looked into it and came up with a reasonable definition from a British web site: “a self-contained floating facility for the storage and dispensing of petrol and diesel fuel for coastal sheltered marina environments.” Yep, that would have been useful in WWII.

Kokomatis isn’t the only animal of size in Kokomo. In Highland Park, one of the city’s parks, tucked away behind glass in what amounts to its own exhibition room, is the stuffed steer Old Ben (d. 1910). Impressive taxidermy, considering the age.Old Ben, Kokomo Old Ben, Kokomo

“Old Ben’s story began in 1902 on the farm of Mike and John Murphy between Bunker Hill and Miami near what is known as Haggerty’s crossing,” the city of Kokomo tells us. “He was the offspring of a pure bred registered Hereford bull and an ordinary shorthorn cow. Ben was a prodigy from the very beginning, as he weighed 125 pounds at birth…

“He weighed one ton at 20 months and two tons at the age of 4 in 1906. By that time, he had become quite a celebrity, and his owners exhibited him at many fairs and festivals. The Nickel Plate Railroad even ran a spur line to the Murphy farm just to help Ben in his travels.”

The article is worth reading all the way through, including for the pictures of a woman named Phyllis Hartzell-Talbert posing with stuffed Ben in 1944 at age 22 and again in 2022 at 100.

Not far from Ben, but in a different display room in the same building, is another former living thing famed (at least in Kokomo) for its size: The Sycamore Stump. Complete with explanatory notes on a sign.Sycamore Stump, Kokomo Sycamore Stump, Kokomo

A plaque you don’t see often. At least not as much as the WPA or the CCC. In this case, it’s attached to the structure housing Old Ben and the Sycamore Stump.National Youth Administration

A New Deal jobs program for youth, including not only men, but women, and not only white youth, but blacks. It was part of the WPA for most of its existence.

Yet another item on exhibit in the park is a former Confederate cannon, one of those prizes of war that lingers long after the war. This one is a little unusual in that it isn’t out in the elements, like many.Kokomo Cannon Kokomo Cannon

Made by Leeds Iron Foundry in New Orleans some time before the Union occupation of the city beginning in mid-62. The cannon’s plaque explains: “Leeds made a total of 49 cannons for the South. Nine of these were 12-pound howitzers. Of these nine, only three are known to exist. Two are in the National Park Service and ours!”

One more item in the park, and it’s even bigger than Old Ben or the Sycamore Stump. A relocated covered bridge.Vermont Bridge, Kokomo Vermont Bridge, Kokomo Vermont Bridge, Kokomo

The Vermont Bridge, which doesn’t refer to the New England state, but instead to Vermont, Indiana, near Kokomo, where it crossed Wildcat Creek. When threatened with demolition, the city of Kokomo paid to have the bridge moved to the park in 1957 and the park district has done some renovation over the years. By 2039, it will have been in this location as long as it was in its original location.

When you see a bridge, cross it if you can, especially if traffic is light. Inside included plenty of graffiti.Vermont Bridge, Kokomo Vermont Bridge, Kokomo Vermont Bridge, Kokomo

Lewis Cass? Like the 1848 presidential candidate who lost to Zachary Taylor?Vermont Bridge, Kokomo

Yes. I remembered seeing Lewis Cass High School as we drove through Walton, Indiana, which is up the road a piece from Kokomo.

At the corner of Sycamore and Apperson streets in central Kokomo is Story Book Express.Story Book Express, Kokomo Story Book Express, Kokomo Story Book Express, Kokomo

Outside, a design on the whimsical side, using a lot of repurposed building materials from demolished structures, according to Fortune Cos. Inc., which mostly specializes in historic building restoration — and which is headed by Scott Pitcher, also of Kokomantis fame (at least in Kokomo). Inside, it’s a fairly ordinary convenience store. As the last place we visited in Kokomo, we went in for a look, and I knew I had to support this oddball convenience store in some way, so I bought a pack of gum for the drive back.

Kokomo Dash

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Besides having a fun name, Kokomo, Indiana, is off that beaten path officially known as the Dwight D. Eisenhower National System of Interstate and Defense Highways. The closest highway to Kokomo in that system is I-65, which I have driven so many times I’ve lost count, except I never kept count. I also had never diverted to Kokomo.

One way to get from metro Chicago to Kokomo is to take I-65 to near Remington, Indiana, and then head east on US 24 to the burg of Dunkirk near the somewhat bigger burg of Logansport. From there, heading south on US 35 takes you to Kokomo. This is what we did on December 22, spending the night in that town (pop. nearly 60,000) and then returning home late the next day.

I’ve wanted to visit the Kokomo Opalescent Glass Co. for years. How did I hear about it? I don’t remember, but the sticking point has long been that the company, a major maker of art glass, only gives tours on weekdays. I checked and it turned out that the company was indeed open for a tour on December 23, so that clinched it.

We arrived before sunset on the 22nd, in time for a walk-around the Howard County Court House.Kokomo Indiana Kokomo Indiana

That instantly says 1930s. As it happens, the building was dedicated in 1937, built as a replacement for an 1860s Second Empire courthouse that burned down. Postcards, such as the one below, depict that long-lost structure (source).

The buildings surrounding the courthouse are mostly older, some dating from the late 19th-century natural gas boom that put Kokomo on the map.Kokomo Indiana Kokomo Indiana Kokomo Indiana

Details.Kokomo Indiana Kokomo Indiana

Union halls: Operating Engineers and Carpenters.Kokomo Indiana

Some buildings retain their names, which doubtless reflect local real estate entrepreneurs as long gone as the old courthouse. Such as the Riley Vale Building. Nice brickwork.Kokomo Indiana

If it hadn’t been about freezing and a little windy that day, I might have done some closer images of its elaborate front.

The Wilson Block.Kokomo Indiana

The tallest of these buildings says Garritson, with a date of 1911.Kokomo Indiana

Though it’s hard to see in this image, there’s a barber pole in front of the building to the left of Garritson. It so happened that my old barber has retired, or died, and I’ve been looking for a new one. Till then, I’ve had my hair cut in various places. I peeked inside and saw the sole barber idling in his chair. I asked if he could cut my hair sometime that afternoon and he said that his most recent appointment hadn’t shown up, so he could right then.

So I got a haircut from the barber right then. One of the younger barbers I’ve been to recently (in his 30s, probably), we chatted some, and I learned that he was the last barber standing at that shop – which had three other chairs. Not because of a population exodus from Kokomo or anything so abstract, but because two other barbers had been caught with their hands in the till, he said. I’m not sure how that could have happened, considering the economics of a barber shop, but I guess if someone wants to steal, they’ll find a way.

Christmas Leaves &c.

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Back to posting around December 29. A good Christmas to all.

For a few years a while back, we received boxes of butter toffee from Guth’s End of the Trail Candy Shoppe in Waupun, Wisconsin, from some PR men we knew well for Christmas. The toffee was insanely good and never lasted long. The Christmas card that came with the candy included Madonna and Child images hand-painted on delicate leaves by, I think, artists from the Indian subcontinent. They have lasted a lot longer than the toffee. I took to taping them to one of the walls in the kitchen.

The leaves occasionally fall to the floor. I then refresh their tape and put them back, but time has taken a toll.Madonna and Child Madonna and Child Madonna and Child

I visited a big box crafts store a few days ago (not this one) at Yuriko’s request. I didn’t really want to go, but I’m glad I did. Got a look at some of the Christmas items. Ho ho ho Ho ho ho
Ho ho ho

A different picture than would have been possible decades ago, or even a single decade ago. Good to see, actually, if only to annoy anyone who might get upset over the complexion of Christmas tchotchkes.

Christmas at Ollie’s

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Choose unwisely during this time of the year, and you end up in a crowded retail setting. Not the worst fate imaginable, but I can think of better things to do, such as visit less popular stores – or at least less crowded at any given moment – and look at things.

Christmas at Ollie’s, you could say.

I might be mistaken, but I believe agriculture in the polar regions is meager indeed. On the other hand, Santa surely controls land in temperate zones, including productive cropland of all sorts. His is an operation with a global reach. But doesn’t he have farmer elves to do the actual work?

Be the life of the party.

Put something under the tree for the small fry.

Yahtzee Jr.? Kids these days. We played the same Yahtzee as the adults when we were kids, as we liked it. Actually, I only remember playing Yahtzee a few times, mostly with my cousin, and not especially liking it. Now I’ve forgotten what it involves, except rolling dice a lot. Maybe I should look it up and re-acquaint myself with it. Nah.

Not a Christmas item particularly, but the thought of shooting dog treats just makes me smile. It might or might not really work, in the sense of getting the dog to play along. Of course, it is food, so dogs might be keen to chase down the treats from the get-go. Watching that would be the amusement for the human. I haven’t lived around a cat long, but my sense is that if you shot treats at a cat, the animal would make itself scarce.

Tannenbaum ’24

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The Christmas tree business is still mostly fragmented, with some 16,600 farms growing Christmas trees on nearly 300,000 acres in the United States, according to the 2022 USDA Census of Agriculture. Some farms are large – a wholesaler called Holiday Tree Farms in Oregon’s Willamette Valley asserts that it ships 1,000,000 trees a year, grown on 1,500 acres. But no single entity dominates.

Good thing, too. If an outfit called CTree Group controlled, say, 50 percent of the market, we’d have to buy an annual subscription to receive our trees in December.

The cash money I spent today at a Christmas tree lot with no name here in the northwest suburbs pretty much went straight into the pocket of the farmer. And I mean that literally. That’s where he put it.Christmas trees Christmas trees

He and his (I assume) wife, both of whom looked roughly my age, except more grizzled from spending much more time outside, were stationed at the small trailer, taking money, chain-sawing the stumps and netting the whole trees, for easier transport. These things they did for me. I asked whether theirs were Michigan trees. Over the years, some of our trees have been, including those from the UP. No, Wisconsin. Just as good, I told them.

The thought that the money goes directly to the owner makes it less annoying that the price was up again this year ($70), and that many trees in the lot were priced at over $100, a price I’m sure not to pay. But not completely un-annoying.

The lot, as many are, is set up on an underutilized section of parking in a nondescript strip center. But not completely nondescript. I was glad to see the record store is still there, though I’ve never been in.

I hadn’t noticed this before, also in the strip center.

An organization I’d never heard of. Even so, I have to admit the name Mountain of Fire & Miracles Ministries has a peel of thunder and a whiff of brimstone about it. Makes you sit up and pay attention.

Some detail.

I took it for an independent Protestant sect of the homegrown sort, but no. This location is an outpost of MFM, a Nigerian Protestant sect – at least, in the sense that it isn’t Catholic — founded in 1989. Here’s something from the church’s web site, under “Mission and Vision” as one of the objectives of the ministry:

To build an aggressive end-time army for the Lord. MFM is an end-time church where we build an aggressive end-time army for the Lord. An end-time church is a church where a sinner enters with two options: he either repents or does not come back, contrary to the present day church where sinners are comfortable and find things so easy and convenient.

I don’t know much about the organization, not really, considering how ignorant I am about most things Nigerian. Still, its presence tells me that there must be more Nigerians here in the northwest suburbs than I realized. The world not only comes to Chicago, it comes to the Chicago suburbs.