deco report

My focus this year is on what I see, as I drive around a lot, and have seen much of the town. Granted, I'm based more on the north side, with my house near Broad and Mary, the epicenter of trick-or-treating and possibly Halloween decorating too.

First, to separate out political decorating from fall decorating. There seem to be equal numbers of Harris signs and Trump signs. Harris ones have ones that go with it: Eric, Amor, etc. while Trump has Judge Joe, etc. Never have I seen crossover, which used to be common: someone liking a Democrat for President, but a Republican for a lower office. No, that doesn't happen anymore. These signs are common but are never mixed with fall deco either.

On the fall deco front, it occurs to me that there is an old-fashioned direction for fall deco. This includes real pumpkins, bales of hay, old cornstalks, scarecrows, etc. This is very rare but still out there. Actually it's my favorite; I could do with a single ear of indian corn. But it is rarely mixed with the flashier stuff or with the political signs. No not rarely, never. A very small minority of houses have a small traditional fall display.

The problem with the balloons and statues is that once people get started they have trouble stopping. Some houses have twelve, up to twenty statues or balloons. Among the balloon statues some don't make it and lie like humps of plastic; maybe somebody has punctured them. These statues can be anything but are usually not fall-themed (pumpkins). They are more likely ghosts, vampires, dragons, skeletons.

Speaking of skeletons the obsession with death is really one of the strongest themes. In fact some decorators have taken joy from mixing death with even the most joyful occasions: a bride covered with blood, or a child, or a woman and baby carriage, blood all over it, etc. Express yourself! I think it's kind of gruesome, but I'm also curious what they are thinking. I guess Halloween gives you permission to be death, put it out there in all its forms, show the world that death trumps everything. There is not a lot of vandalism on these massive displays, that I can tell; the punctured balloons are just as likely to be leaky or defective. One can decorate, or over-decorate, or fill up one's lawn. No problem.

The dragons and the purple are what I detect as a slight innovation from last year. One house on my street has all purple lights; very pretty. I always thought of purple as a Mardi-Gras color, but it can be fall too I guess. Brown, black, orange, white, those are the usual. Brown and green started appearing last year as ones to help highlight the white, black and orange. But my question is, where did the dragons come from? Are they just because you're allowed any fantasy you want? Is there some association with fall or something else?

People who carve pumpkins now (Oct. 10) will find them good and rotten by Halloween, and though that's not all bad, those who wait to buy them after the middle of the month may find it's too late, all the pumpkins are gone. Some people buy them by the wagonload. This one house in Abingdon sells whole wagons of them as far as I can tell. They come in from the countryside in wagonloads, and who has any idea how sincere they are? I bought one - as I said, I'm a minimalist, and traditionalist. Actually I don't really believe in deco at all. I'm just kind of studying it, and enjoying it. Maybe if I'm in this town long enough, it'll win me over and I'll start going all out too.

decoration season

Now that I've seen the first full-flung fall decoration of the year, it's time to make some generalizations and set out some goals for the season. Generalizations first.

It's not that the Christmas deco has abated any, it's more that the fall deco has really caught on. There are lots of possibilities: ghosts, dead people, zombies, monsters, skeletons, etc., lots to work with. It's a season when people are out, enjoying the fresh air and the turning of the trees; in fact, the turning of the trees adds something to the general effect. The zombie/death themes really appeal to a whole generation of decorators who, like their parents, have nothing better to do in a small town but decorate the heck out of things, but who, like their peers, reject all traditional methods and really want to take off on their own path.

I sensed that people couldn't wait until Sept. 1 to get started, but I didn't see my first fall deco until about Sept. 1. That's two months early. But no problem, get it on up there so we can see it. While you can only do Christmas lights in red and green, in fall you can use purple and especially orange, and blood colors, and go to town. So get it on out there and we'll come around and look.

The first full-fledged one, a whole yard-full, is on Monroe just south of Fremont, on the east side of the street. I'm not sure if it's the first one altogether. I know of one in my neighborhood, on Cedar between Osage and Fremont, and when that guy gets going it's something to see; he'll probably give us a yardful. I say get it out there. It's artistic; it's expressive; if you're all about death and vampires or zombies we can handle it. We can at least judge and evaluate on our own terms.

Here are my goals. It's kind of like being stuck behind a train, looking at the graffiti, and saying, I really want to know more about this so I have some idea of what I'm looking at. We can all start with what we like, and say, that one's nice. We can all admit that we have no idea of what it actually takes to construct a zombie that will hold up to the weather and still be haunting, glowing, etc. But I'd like to use this site to explore some of these questions. I think we probably have as good fall deco as any town and I'd like to just point out where it's good, keep track of it, commend its artists, etc. I'd actually like to do the same for train graffiti but I assure you I'm nowhere near close to qualified. You'll have to accept my spontaneous offerings and random opinions about what's good and what's not. I have no hostility about it whatsoever. There's no point in telling people they should stick with mangers and Christian scenes; some people even sport Trump flags like there's some sense in letting the country be run over by a rapist pedophile fraud draft dodger. In light of reality, what harm is a few zombies?

So let's get on with it. Go out and deco. I'll be watching. I am, after all, a door-dasher, and I get on a lot of these streets, often. My goal is to ultimately know what I'm talking about,

Dasher's dilemma

Here's a dasher problem, and kind of Galesburg-specific geography question. I have a woman's order, from Wendy's, going out to a nursing home in Knoxville, the one that's out Market Street a ways. The dasher app sends me south on Henderson to the end of the road where it will turn me left on highway ten and go to Knoxville that way. It sometimes, in similar circumstances, will put me on the interstate which is how I might have done it if I were alone. But I usually do what the dasher app tells me to do, figuring it's better to be able to say, when it's all over, that I was doing what I was told.

So a little ways past Monmouth I get a call from the woman who says, when you get to this nursing home, find the visitor parking lot over on the side. I've pulled over a little to take the call but up ahead I see this train, crossing south Henderson, and this is the crossing that's way out south by Louisville. It's way out south. Not pulling over would not have got me past that train; I would have to wait.

Two problems I could see right away. First, it was going slowly. Not too slow, and not slowing down, but very slow, maybe ten. It was actually speeding up a little, but not much. But the second problem was the big one - it was HUGE. It went forever, with no end in sight.

Now you give the train about double the time since he's going about half the usual speed; it's going to take twice as long. But this was longer it seemed than even your usual double train, which has engines in the middle and which happen when they combine two mile-and-a-half trains together. This one seemed to be three or four trains long, with no sign of engines in the middle to pick up the process.

The dilemma is this: way out before you get to that train track, if you give up and turn around, how do you actually get to Knoxville? I couldn't come up with a solution. Going out Monmouth would be the wrong direction and might not assure me that I even got past the train. Going back to Main and ambling through downtown would take forever, but at least would get me under any oncoming train; then I could take Seminary or Grand but it just seemed so long. I just sat there. Maybe to my peril.

When I got out to the nursing home there was no visitor lot in sight, nothing. I drove around twice. I got it to her eventually but felt bad 'cause it took so long. A cold Wendys. At least she got one of those magical-colored drinks they're all making these days. A bad dash, you might say. But I've actually had pretty good luck lately, just staying in Galesburg.

A traveling, fleeting museum, that's what it is. You never know what you'll get, but you'll get something, and it will be art. It may be art you don't understand. Or it may be not yet art. But you'll get something.

I'm talking about the trains, and I know I'm one of the few who look at the graffiti and say, I wonder what he was trying to say. Sometimes, if it's going slow enough, you can read the words more carefully and enjoy the art that they are packaged in. Most of the graffiti seems to be signatures of some kind, identifying the spray painter.

Oh yes I know it's illegal, and I'm not here to apologize or justify their tresspassing. Or vandalizing, you can say, if you really detest it. It is vandalism; oit's sopmeone else's property, and they're just painting all over it. So no, I'm not here to say that's ok or even legitimate; I wouldn't make a book out of it because that glorifies crime. Do we want a lawless society?

But on the other hand, you have to wait for the train anyway. And it's one kind of art that is out there, right where you'll see it every time. We in Galesburg often have to wait for them, and sometimes they stop right on the road. Or there are two of them, one in each direction. Or two, attached onto each other, same direction. We can lose in lots of ways. And we do.

But all we lose is time, and if there's an art exhibit on right in front of us, maybe that's what we should be doing.

Here's another story about dashing. I'm an author and can write a book; my plan was to write a book about dashing and I even started it. It took off like a murder mystery. There was action, a body, things happening, etc.

Lately I've been in a groove on dashing. I work a few hours each night and it's always pretty lucrative. In fact I get a sense of peace from it, the city streets, the flow of traffic, the rhythms of the city.

Naturally I got a page or two into this book and then stopped. I didn't really have a plan. But also I was kind of bogged down. Lately the issue is really more fiction vs. non-fiction; I just had trouble combining them. Either it was true or not. I'm not really comfortable with half true, half not. Or with careful documenting of the dasher's scene side by side with a murder mystery which let's face it, Galesburg doesn't have that much of.

I've always enjoyed a good murder mystery and to me that's something I could probably write more of, and sink my teeth into, and get all wrapped up in and all. But when I rub too much hard reality into it (and let's face it, dashing is something I know, I get uncomfortable. Am I going to have to explain what's real and what's not, forever? I'd almost rather tell a story that is entirely real, then back off, and say, that's what I know, it sounds like a good story, but I don't know any better, or any more. I'm not comfortable attributing thoughts to real characters; I'm also not comfortable just making up characters and putting them in real environments. If I know the place, it's because I know the people too.

The last few weeks have been great dashing. That's because my absolute reliance on the money has abated a little; in other words, I could probably live without it if I had to. There are times when one has to wait, unexpectedly, for some order that is just taking them a little longer than most. At one point I saw this other dasher, a guy I know or have seen a few times, get very upset over waiting five or ten extra minutes. Dashing does tend to make you impatient when, let's face it, a few minutes aren't going to mean a whole lot in the big picture. But I've found myself lately much more patient; I look at the dining area of the place, knowing full well this is probably the closest I'll get to being here, and take it all in, and let them take as much time as they need. I'd rather the food be hot, and ready, and made to the best they can anyway, just because that makes happier people on the other end.

There was a bit of a crowd downtown the other day. Turns out, I think, that it was Taste of Galesburg, and, knowing what Taste of Chicago was like, I know it was probably good. I actually have taste of Galesburg every day, since I carry all kinds of good-smelling stuff all over the place. And I've gotten a pretty good sense of what is really good and what is just fast food; I've gotten a little more attuned to it. The thing about food is that because we need it every day we tend to forget about the value of its nutrition comparatively. Some of what I deliver is actually slow food, and I have to wait at the place routinely. And I almost never really know or even really pay attention to what exactly they are serving, or what the ingredients are. I get some sense, based on the names, and then on the smell. But basically I just take it where it's going. Through various intersections, through the roundabout, up into various neighborhoods. Lately the weather has been great, though I did get caught in that raging storm. But on a clear cool night, with a sunset, going over some of these railroads or someplace, I'm ok with Galesburg. Even when I'm stopped by a double train.

Broad & Mary

This is kind of a post about the Fourth of July weekend. It would seem difficult to get out of it without some kind of excitement. We went to the fireworks on Thursday night and my basic observation was: the city guys are getting better at it (I'd been in New Mexico for six years, fireworks strictly conntrolled), and, there were private sidewalk exhibitions all over the place, much to the consternation of the dogs I'm sure, but especially on the south side.

Last night, in the evenning, my daughter came downstairs having seen an accident at the corner of Broad and Mary. Wow! Here it is more or less right out my window and I hadn't seen it. The dogs perch themselves on a couch right in front of me but they hadn't gone off either, no dog involved obviously. My daughter however was very animated; she hadn't seen anything like that for a long time.

It seems a guy in a blue truck hit a woman in a newer bright red speed-demon kind of car. She was against the northwest curb as if she had turned left onto Mary from northbound Broad. My wife speculated that he'd been trying to pass her when she turned, but his truck was now facing the other way. They were loading her onto an ambulance. Two firetrucks responded. The road was blocked off. We watched for a while.

My daughter said she thought the woman sounded drunk. This might sound like slander but I've said such things before. Who knows, I didn't hear anyone, but I can tell you that anything is possible. I was doing a lot of door-dashing and noticing the elements of a wild holiday out there, grateful in the evening to be home and to have it behind me. One gets off the road in this kind of holiday.

Which reminds me, one more door-dash fiasco. Another order from Smokin Willies on the Fourth, and the place was closed; I got out of the order. The proprietor comes by in a pickup truck to say it's closed; ok, that doesn't bother me anymore, I got out of it, I'm just sitting here in the shade, enjoying that barbeque smell, trying to decide where to go next. Lots of places including Pizza Ranch seemed to have a system breakdown and plenty of others seemed to have young kids there who just didn't have a clue. Such is the weekend - the people who know what they're doing are long gone, out of there.