Losing our Assets: A Plea For Help!
By Robert Albee
I started out trying to tell a story about Ancient Traders, the East Franklin Avenue strip mall across the street from my house, but wise counsel prevailed and pointed out too many holes, inaccuracies and inflammatory language in that draft so it is better to start afresh. So this story is more of an editorial than a narrative, as it awaits a true storyteller with more time and access to facts than I possess.
This piece begins with a plea to our state elected officials””Senator Berglin and Representative Clark and our county and municipal officials, Peter McLaughlin, Robert Lilligren and Gary Schiff”” requesting that we begin a forensics investigation into the practice using one property to leverage another when public monies were originally used and were obtained to serve a given locality. In a shifting economy, this conduct has the makings to destabilize an area that was only recently stabilized, with investments of more than $130 million and crime rates dropping along the East Franklin Avenue corridor.
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Great Granddaughter ”˜Uprights” Legacy and Its Marker for Another Century
By Sue Hunter Weir
Setting grave markers is a tough business. Wrestling blocks of stone that weigh several hundreds of pounds into place requires muscle and planning. Ensuring that the stones are level when the ground is uneven is tricky and tree roots don”'t make the job any easier. On Sunday, August 22nd, staff from Grave Groomers, a local restoration company, set about repairing the marker for Lina Quam.
Mrs. Quam”'s marker is in the center island of the cemetery. Someone (it isn”'t clear who) planted a tree between her marker and the marker directly north of hers. It probably seemed like a good idea at the time. But over a hundred years later, the cottonwood is still there and still growing. As the tree has grew, its widening trunk caused the top of Mrs.… Read the rest “Great Granddaughter ”˜Uprights” Legacy and Its Marker for Another Century”
SEARCHING ”“ a Serial Novelle CHAPTER 18: Truth, in all its profound beauty and terror.
By Patrick Cabello Hansel
Coffee, pancakes, the smiles and shouts of people who love you””who cares if you”'re celebrating the Feast Day of the Virgen de Guadalupe, the patroness of Mexico and all the Americas””sitting in a sticky booth at Denny”'s at 11:22 pm.
This is the crowd that greeted Angel & his dad, Augusto: the Luz, the light of his life, her grandmother Dolores, Mr. Bussey, his old teacher from Roosevelt, Mother Light the healer, and her helper Ana. They were seated under two signs that had yellowed with age. One read: Between 10pm and 5pm, minimum order $3.00, maximum stay 2 hours. The other: No Card Playing in This Restaurant. Angel was going to ask if card playing was allowed in other Denny”'s, but as he began to form the words, Mr. Bussey and Mother Light each pulled out a deck and began shuffling.
“What shall we play?” Mr. Bussey asked. “Bid Whist? Buck Euchre? Pinochle?”
“Clabber? Skat? Bourré?” Mother Light chimed in.
“¿Conquian? ¿Siete Loco? ¿Burro Castigado?” laughed Dolores.
“Hey, wait a minute!” Angel laughed. “It says “No Card Playing in This Restaurant! You”'re going to get us kicked out before we even eat!”
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