ROMANCING THE HEART OF THE ARTIFACT CITY

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or read his story below…

ROMANCING THE HEART OF THE ARTIFACT CITY

 

Ten years ago, the Red Clay Diary splayed open beneath my writing hand. Here are some of the notes and scribbles therein. Let’s go back to Then and forget Now for a few seconds…

day unlike any other day, but curiously familiar…

OUTSIDE THE SHOP

It’s like a bolero out there, everybody choreographing their unique dances in rhythm with life…

Remon grabs another of his many daily smokes outside my shop, on the way to the smoking parking lot, where so many others leave their cigarette filters…relics for future archaeologists to uncover and puzzle over.

INSIDE THE SHOP

Everybody brings baggage, everyone has a story—even if unconsciously so…

Geoff drops by and donates a brass-and-velvet theatre stanchion, so that I can place some psychological boundary between myself and the occasional hovering customer.

Carolynne picks up copies of the latest Birmingham Arts Journal to spread the gospel of art and lit.

Randy decides to read Hemingway and Faulkner and Fitzgerald. There is hope!

ACROSS FROM THE SHOP

I can see the parallel businesses and activities going about their cycles…

Rhonda soaks the cooling sun and smiles her wisdom, surrounded by shoes and leathery artifacts.

The Matron of Metering carefully prepares penalty notices for people who don’t know the rules and mysteries of Downtown Parking.

A customer donates a bag of wonderful old books.

MEANWHILE, BACK INSIDE

The imaginary reality of each customer swirls about them, influencing the way they see the shop…

Kid customer purchases an enormous football-shaped balloon and a Wimpy Kid title.

A grown-up attorney takes the life-size Marilyn Monroe stand-up home with him, along with Bradbury.

Another kid customer buys a flashing red disco light for his room, to go with a Star Wars novel.

Outside, one pedestrian ogles the Leg Lamp and model train and Piggly Wiggly head and Laugh-In switchboard and Red Lady statue in the display windows.

Yet another purchases a wind-up bunny astride a tricycle, and a Peter Rabbit book.

One customer selects century-old postcards and comes back for more.

Somebody else stays in the front corner for five hours and reads ancient love letters and diaries from within my grandfather’s old post office boxes. Her bliss is unmistakable. The names of my relatives in Peterson, Alabama are on each box.

A Regular ushers and tours her friend through the shop.

Giggles emanate from the back of the store. Collectible books entertain them.

One girl seeks and finds Gulliver’s Travels and carries her smile home with her.

And so it goes.

You go climb Mount Everest.

I’ll remain here in my shop. I suspect I’ll have much more fun

© 2019 Jim Reed

 

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