Monday, May 11, 2009

. . . went home Saturday




to visit my mother. Is where you grew up always going to be "home"? It was a lovely calm day; my sister and one of my brothers was there, along with Christopher, my nephew. We took a walk to see the neighborhood gardens, ventured "downtown" to see what was going on (nothing) and ate cheesecake and had coffee (with a bit of wine earlier.)






When I was growing up, downtown on Saturday was a busy time. . . my dad's store stayed open late and the grocery stores, variety stores, drugstores, clothing and shoe stores, all did brisk business. Kids congregated at one of the two drugstores for cherry limeades or vanilla cokes, farmers came to town to do whatever farmers did in town. The many "pool halls" were always busy. But now, you could shoot a rocket from one end of Market Street to the other and not hit anything.






A few months ago, a fire destroyed two buildings downtown, and they have been torn down, leaving a blank space in the middle of a block of attached buildings. I only got a few shots of the remaining walls before my camera's batteries went out. The top photo is of another building, across the street from the fire-damaged area, and it seems that someone is trying to restore the exterior. Another building nearby was constructed in 1886, so this one is probably about as old.
Matt took me to brunch on Sunday, and it was lovely. Betsy called me last night to tell me they had just come from the beach to watch the sun set into the water, but had failed to see the green flash that apparently happens sometimes. I talked with Stef, too, but Joey was busy and didn't want to visit. Betsy had called me before they left for Florida and had wondered if I would cry because they were leaving. I asked her if she wanted me to cry, and she giggled and said yes. I asked her how long she wanted me to cry, and she said "Until we come home." I asked how long that would be and she said seven days. I promised that I would do my best to cry the whole time they were gone, through all the TV shows that she likes, through grocery shopping, even while I slept. She was giggling pretty much nonstop by the time we ended that conversation.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

Wow, you could make Osage into an artist's dream with these photos. How about an artist colony?
Anna

Leslie Avon Miller said...

You and Betsy - such good friends.

Margaret Ryall said...

I love the textures on these burned buildings. These are the kind of photo I wish I had in my collection. Is photo envy a common affliction I wonder?
I'm glad you had a pleasant Mother's Day.

Jazz said...

Is where you grew up always going to be "home"? In my case, a resounding "God help me, NO!!" Home is Montreal where I've lived for 25+ years. I dislike Quebec city intensely.

Marie said...

Love the photos! Natural abstraction "to die for"! Really, they'd make great paintings!

Martha Marshall said...

Beautiful photographs, Mary! I for one would love to see all of our small towns revitalized. One little town from my early childhood just sits there and decays, because a huge chunk of the property is tied up in one family that won't sell. I've always found that strange.

Lauren said...

I agree with Auntie Anna... I've never seen Osage look as good as you made it look in those photos!
Love,
Lauren

Mary Buek said...

Anna, I have long thought that Osage might as well be an artists' colony. The Chamber of Commerce should look into that. Unfortunately it would involving actually moving there.

Leslie: Yes, we are buddies. Betsy is a real piece of work.

Margaret: Photo envy...I love it. Hope you had a good Mother's Day, too, almost a week later.

Jazz: Well, I dislike my hometown intensely, too, but I'm sure for different reasons. Everybody is always into everybody else's business there. Small towns are like that, I guess. . . not for me.

Marie: Thank you, I hope to try one of the burned out buildings one of these days.

Martha: I think it takes a bit of creativity on the part of the town itself to revitalize. Apparently the same thing happened in my little town. . . crazy grudges that last for generations.

Lauren: It only looks as good when you are there.