Keeping Watch On The Sidewalk
Our Sidewalk: A Pageant Of Life
Residing in a neighborhood has proved a significant change from living in the splendid isolation afforded us when we dwelt at Heck Of A House
For one thing, there is the up close and personal aspect of living within sight of a sidewalk on which courses the northern Illinois roadshow production of the pageant of life.
This morning I was keyboarding away in the dining room, sporadically glancing out a window that looks onto the the front yard to view the dog-walkers, runners, joggers, power walkers, baby stroller pushers, bike riders, saunterers, and other travelers on our pedestrian expressway. I noticed one guy slow his pace while walking past our home and then, less than 5 minutes later, amble back in the opposite direction with a stridently casual air. Midway en route across our driveway, he pauses, looks around, and then swoops toward my newspaper lying at his feet. Just as his hand approaches the paper, he glances toward the house and our eyes meet. His cover for the aborted theft is to continue swinging his arm past and beyond the Trib such that his hand finally stops just above his head whence it proceeds to vigorously scratch the patch of his scalp just inferior to it.
Dude, you might wanna work on that move.
Halloween Impends
Pumpkin Carving Info
The approach of Halloween, made inescapable by the appearance 2 weeks ago of the local designated decorated dwelling, replete with a front yard full of cobwebs, giant spiders, dozens of real and imitation pumpkins, a few skeletons (including one embedded in a spider web), witches, ghosts, headstones, goblins, and an abundance of cornstalks a few houses down, has triggered a reassessment of my assumptions about the local population. I now belatedly suspect that the presence of such a large number of short people in the area, which I had attributed to a pandemic hormonal shortfall, is actually a function of of a significant proportion of the population consisting of a species locally known as “children,”
We are relatively inexperienced in dealing with candy-grubbers on Halloween because in the decade we spent at Heck of a House, we only had – if we count each individual in each group – zero trick or treaters. Consequently, I queried my landlady about the number of costumed visitors we should expect. She let me know that a large number of urchins would likely appear at the door expecting individually packaged, glucose-rich, chemically preserved, name brand-bearing treats because our neighborhood is known as a “safe area.”
I plan to confront my Realtor regarding his failure to warn me that this was a safe area and demand reparations in an amount equal to the cost of the candy bribes to be given to the pint-sized extortion experts on Halloween.
Our landlady, noting that she often dressed as a witch to greet the trick or treaters, suggested we might do something similar. On consideration, I have decided that we will be disguised as a vacant house.
Reading Is Rad
The most positive consequence of our recent change of address, however, was the acquisition of my first library card in over a decade.1
During that time, we lived outside any taxation district associated with a library and, in any case, were so distant geographically from the nearest library building that using it was impractical. Now, however, I am a library district residing, card-carrying, officially registered citizen fully possessed of all rights and privileges pertaining thereto.
_____________________- I should note that the many hours I spent in the Newton County Library, housed in the basement of the County Health Building, and that library’s bookmobile when it traveled to my hometown, were among the best of my childhood. [↩]
If you are a renter, you won’t see how much you pay each year for that library card.