Inspection of Downtown

For lunch I usually jump in the van, rush home, eat, and then hurry back to work.  The rush reminds me of what John Steinbeck said about superhighways, "These great roads are wonderful for moving goods but not for inspection of a countryside. You are bound to the wheel and your eyes to the car ahead and to the rear-view mirror for the car behind and [...] at the same time you must read all the signs for fear you may miss some instructions or orders. No roadside stands selling squash juice, no antique stores, no farm products or factory outlets. When we get these thruways across the whole country, as we will and must, it will be possible to drive from York to California without seeing a single thing."

 

Last Friday was different.  I was stuck without a vehicle but wanted desperately to get out of the office for lunch.  So zipping up the same old worn Eddie Bauer coat from college days and adding other cold weather gear, I stepped out the door to begin the inspection.  Downtown buildings and leafless branches against gray clouds gave the feeling of Paul Cornoyer’s The Plaza After Rain as I met winter head on.  

 

Instead of rain though, snow filled the street and sidewalks….falling, blowing, swirling all around.  The storm slows down both traffic and the pace of life creating a front porch atmosphere.  “Good to see you again,” I overhear one person tell another.  Workers for a local plumbing company congregate on the sidewalk to talk.  “Cold day for walking,” I comment to a lady headed in my direction.  “Yes, but it’s good to be out.   The library is closed due to inclement weather,” she says.      

 

On Prince Street I walk past locally owned businesses that have stood the test of time.  Quick Prints preceded Staples.  Roma preceded Papa John’s.  The Studio preceded Tamarack Gallery.  All of these and others give character to downtown.  With each step the snow gives a squeaky crunch under my feet leaving a print.  It’s just the kind of thing that entertains a mind satisfied with simple pleasures.    

 

Arriving at the CRC building, I duck into the lounge for some solitude and am surrounded by books.  Giving the shelves a quick once over, I make a choice that would make my friend Sam very proud.  My choice is the 1948 edition of Masterpieces of Religious Verse.  In it I encounter Alfred Tennyson, Emily Dickinson, George Eliot, Henry W. Longfellow and John Milton.  Finally putting it down I head out the door to begin the process of inspection all over again.