Grit City is just that now, but it once was an important town on the river, the last navigable inland port from the Atlantic. The railways all ended there as well. It was per capita one of the wealthiest cities in the state. There was an opera house, and I think Caruso may have sung there. Not being a fan of opera or Caruso, you will have to fact check me on that.
It all ended when the highway system was built and goods were shipped by truck rather than by boat. And over the years, Grit City lost its money and its luster and so the Old Boys kept a strangle hold on what they had left. The town fell into disrepair.
Over the past few decades, there have been attempts to revitalize the town. All have failed. And it is strange because it is full of once and future charm. The old buildings downtown, the fabulous old homes, and still, the river. But Grits being Grits. . . .
I took T to the airport there yesterday afternoon. When it was first built a few decades ago, it was a hub for international travel. Only a skip and a jump from Gotham, it was a nice alternative to one of the busiest airports in the country.
That didn't last too long and so regional airlines serving non-major cities took over. If you need to fly somewhere near a major city, though, this is a great place. Sure. . . maybe you can only fly out on Wednesdays and return on Mondays, but you can't beat the price.
So when I drove T right to the entrance without a bit of traffic, he passed through security and was at the bar in five seconds. It is like flying in the 1960s. I've flown out of that airport several times and if it is possible to go where you need to, I'd recommend it.
After the "See you later, Champ," bullshit, I decided to drive into Grit City proper. I wanted to look around. I had strapped a 21mm lens on my Leica. I felt like exploring.
As soon as I got out of the car, though, it began to rain. Where in the heck had that come from? I ducked under the canopies of the protected sidewalks and bumped around for a bit. To my dismay, there was a new condo or apartment building going up just behind Main Street. It would take away from much of the city's charm, but this is typical Grit City politics. They are not preservationists. They are Greedheads.
Some of the old brick buildings have already been torn down. They had probably fallen into disrepair from a lack of maintenance, I'm sure, but it seems a crime. Many of those left, though, have the old painted advertising signs of yesteryear, faded but still visible. I photographed a few between raindrops and might post some of them here if they are decent at all. But the one pictured at the top is bright and brand new. It sits in the patio area of a barbecue place, and I wonder about it. It is painted onto the wall and done well in an old fruit poster manner. It seems a nice sort of revival to me, the kind the city needs more of. But the town must be simply full of alcoholics for the entire downtown is filled with bars, distilleries, and breweries. The city had for years one of the greatest music events around--Porchfest--when all the old mansions opened their deep, beautiful porches to musicians. Block by block by block you could hear a wonderful variety of music from noon far into the evening.
This year, it was cancelled. The people who sponsored it said they couldn't afford to do it.
Still, posters are up for other traditions--Pooch Fest, Couch Races, etc. The town if full of potential and bad planning.
Ili's father had been the City Attorney, and she, too, was serving as Assistant City Attorney post-me. How much they affected politics is hard to decipher. But being a bit of a stalker after she left, an internet sleuth, I saw that she had represented the city in a number of court cases. She lived in Grit City before she moved in with me, and we often spent the weekends there. As charming as it is from the outside, however, I can say that it could be very boring. It is better for sightseeing, I think.
I am back in my own home now for a couple more weeks. It is strange to flip-flop back and forth. Things that were in the fridge are not really trustworthy now. I used the whole milk in my coffee, but it curdled a bit when I poured it. I don't think you can get sick from curdled milk, though, right?
There will be more yard and garden work while I am here. Other things, too. There is never a lack of work to be done.
And, as usual, I will try to turn my life around once more, away from the overweight, slothful, mindless person I have become, focussing more on mind and spirit and a healthier physical life.
Hare Krishna, Krishna Hare, Hare Hare Krishna. Ommmmmm.
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