The last of the people with those skills retired last year, maybe. Perhaps it coincides with the Last of the Television Repairmen.

During the Holidays the Ave used to put up shooting stars that arced above the street, white lights star, white lights trail. They looked like something from the early Sixties; maybe their original appearance coincided with the 1962 World Fair, which brought the Space Needle and the Monorail. This origin is just a guess, but I like it, so have no desire to research further.

They were there last year. This year they are not there. Instead, there are a few trees wrapped with white lights. Generic. Could be anywhere. Maybe too expensive to run, maybe too expensive to maintain. Maybe they require a unique part that hasn't been made since 1972, and they don't have replacement parts anymore, and they don't have the people anymore who can even jury-rig something like that. The last of the people with those skills retired last year, maybe. Perhaps it coincides with the Last of the Television Repairmen.

So the Ave becomes a little less special. Which is pretty much the Story of the Ave. From upscale shoppers at Nordstroms fifty years ago to today's Heroin Kids down by the Seven-Eleven, begging change to buy a hot dog or a bag of Doritos.

Just something I was thinking as I stood outside the bar, having a cigarette, looking at where the stars had been. And being asked by numerous Street Urchins if I had a cigarette to give, or a dollar bill. It is no longer spare change: they want paper money. But I'll save that digression for later.

Back in the day the Shooting Star Maintenance Guy and the Last of the Television Repairmen probably had a smoke inside a bar after work. Back then, they could have a smoke at work, inside. Times change. This time of year just makes those changes more noticeable, in that melancholy way the Holidays have when you feel melancholy during the Holidays.

- james james

Comments

  1. madAsHellDecember 22, 2017 at 8:33 AM

    When Dad was running the pharmacy, they would string lights on the trees, and then cut them off, and trash them at the end of the season. Dad decided that was a waste, and removed a couple of strings before they were cut up. Dad is gone, but Mom still uses the strings.

    It's not easy being.......a cheap bastard.

    ReplyDelete

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