AliThinks

In Praise Of Locally-Owned Joints

A few days ago a locally-based independent bookstore announced that it had filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy, about a week after announcing it would close two of its stores in Charlotte and Pittsburgh. Now, Joseph-Beth will also close stores in Cleveland and Nashville.

I work in a locally-owned (not -based, nuance) independent bookstore, and I do not relish this news. Joseph-Beth's Lexington store (their flagship) will remain open. So that's good. This town has several book stores, and I believe it's a big enough town that we can all co-exist.

The announcement last week got me thinking about the nature of bookstores. Say what you will about digital media and "the death of print," but there is still a place in society for bookstores. One of the common complaints I've heard about Joseph-Beth is that it sold so much besides books. "It's like a gift shop that has books," is the refrain. That kind of store has its place for sure. But Joseph-Beth and Barnes & Noble are such big places that when you go it becomes a "shopping experience."

The bookstore I work in is small. Many people think that it is a used bookstore, because they are not used to seeing such a small bookstore with new inventory. And at least once a week, we have a customer who says "I had no idea this place was here!" or "I'm so glad I found you!" and that feels really good.

About a year ago, my friend Nick wrote a piece for a local weekly alternative paper, and he spent some time at the Morris book shop talking to my manager, Hap. The resulting essay was long, but what Nick wrote stayed with me: the idea of a bookstore as a cultural commons. Here's a PDF link to the paper the article was in. (The article starts on page 5; incidentally, there is an awesome review of the Twilight series by another friend on page 1.) Here are some choice phrases that Nick wrote about the place I work:

Local bookshops are able to
provide the interpersonal intimacy
absent from the digital realm. More
specifically, a transaction at a shop
like Morris establishes a relationship
beyond mere commodity, or informa-
tion, exchange. The shop is a nexus
for community interests, interests that
one shouldn’t have to—even virtually—
leave his or her community to explore.
Its connective tissue is simply people
(who are your neighbors) and books.

...

There’s no telling what will happen
to the printed word in the future, but
places like Morris needn’t worry any-
time soon. By providing a venue for
the community to educate itself and
learn about one another, it connects
to its customers by establishing bonds
that transcend typical commodity
transactions. While its fate is beholden
to the industry it operates within, it
sees itself—and deserves to be seen—as
something greater than a middleman. 

Nick wrote some good anecdotes about that afternoon he spent at the Morris book shop, so if you have a few minutes, the entire article is worth a read. What I've quoted here is the crux of it, however. A bookstore is a gathering place for ideas. Sure, coffee helps. But we don't have coffee at the Morris book shop (yet), and I have to tell you, I have been privy to — and participated in — some incredible conversations over the past 18 months that I've worked there.

I'm not so starry-eyed as to think that these kinds of "cultural commons" discussions don't happen outside of small, independent bookstores. Of course they do. Connections are made all the time, in all kinds of places. But places like the Morris book shop, or Third Street Stuff and Coffee, or Coffee Times, or the Co-op have an intimacy that larger stores do not. These are community-oriented, locally-owned places. Their patrons are community-oriented as well. These are the places where ideas are discussed, fleshed out, perhaps even come to fruition.

I've no doubt that Joseph-Beth was once this kind of place. And I think as we move forward, we need to look back to a time when homogenization was only something you associated with milk. There will always be chain stores and restaurants. Some folks crave the stability of having the same offerings no matter what city they are in, and I kind of get that. But in our own towns, let's embrace the local joints: not only are they motors of the economy, but that's where stuff really happens.

Local First

For the past couple of years, Allan and I have tried to purchase as many goods from locally-owned shops as possible. And while that may not seem to have anything to do with the video I'm about to post, it really does. You'll see.

This video recently won a regional Emmy, and the part I want you to watch starts at the 17:00 mark. It's a profile of local artists Sara and Brian Turner, who are behind Cricket Press. We have a few CP posters framed and hanging above our mantel (I'll post a photo later; the morning light in this room isn't conducive to a good pic) and are big fans of their aesthetic. In the video you can see where I work, although it looks a little different there these days!

Here's the video. Unfortunately, I can't embed it here. More commentary below. 

My workplace looks different because we hadn't installed Jim Shambhu's mural yet. Here's a video of that, done by our friend Mick.

Here's a longer version, complete with circus music, if you've got the time and inclination.

So, um, yeah. Where was I? Oh yeah. Lexington is full of cool stuff like Cricket Press. I bet your community is too.

Planned Obsolesence

I'm sure that the manufacturers of our refrigerator weren't really thinking that. I have faith that they believed their products would last years and years, if not a lifetime.

Can you feel my sarcasm?

The refrigerator that Allan bought seven years ago (after the Ice Storm of 2003™ killed the one he had) kicked the bucket last Thursday night.

And because the cost of repair is comparable to the cost of a new appliance in this disposable society, we bought a new refrigerator.

We went to a local store Friday morning (because hey, they offer super duper service and competitive prices in addition to being local, woo-hoo!) and measured a few fridges. We quickly realized that it was going to be hard to fit a refrigerator into the space we had, because of the cupboard that was just above said space.

Our kitchen was last remodeled in the mid-70s, and refrigerators have gotten bigger and taller (and better) since then. We've planned to remodel the kitchen since I moved here four years ago. It didn't take long for Allan to suggest we rip out the cupboard above the fridge, so that we didn't have to worry about height. (I must add that the fridge that just kicked the bucket had a kind of "lip" on the top of it that made opening the cupboard difficult. So it wasn't hard to agree to Allan's idea*.)

*Of course, we've got Allan's parents' china sitting on the dining room table now. We have to decide where to store it.

We decided on a fridge, purchased it, and went home and set about removing the offending cupboard. It took a while to figure out which screws were actually holding the thing in place. When we finally got the thing down, my vantage point allowed me a view that made me laugh out loud.

Somebody had trouble finding the stud in the wall.

Our new fridge was delivered the next day. It's pretty fantastic. I love that it's described as "French door." I'm not sure if that refers to the double-door opening (which is referred to as a "réfrigérateur américain" in France) or the freezer on the bottom (which is pretty standard in France). Anyway, long may she live!

Ah, Retail.

Working in a bookstore has its advantages. We tend to get a higher caliber of customer than your average store, and yet. And yet. The last time I wrote about my job, I had three stories to tell, and they all happened in one day. Nothing untoward has happened since then, but twice today I had to clench my teeth to keep my jaw from hitting the counter. And so, then, here it goes. I'll reiterate what I said a few days after my last day of doozies. (Yeah, click that link.)

I'm going to omit certain irrelevant information here, just because.

This morning I dealt with a customer who wanted to know if we had any ****** Lewis books. I asked, "Is that L-E-W-I-S?" and the customer said "Well, yes, of course, unless he spells his name some weird way." (By this time I saw that we had no ****** Lewis books, and was trying ****** Louis.) I did an Amazon search, because that's the easiest way for us to get information on any one book. We can then get the ISBN or EAN for the book and plug it into our distributor's website.

I found the author and book the customer was looking for, and plugged the ISBN into our system, just to make sure we didn't have it in stock. We didn't, so I kindly suggested that we could order the book for him. He wanted two books from this author, and I found both on our distributor's site.

I asked for the customer's name and phone number, giving my usual spiel, "We'll call you when the books come in." The guy gave me his name, but said, "I prefer that you don't call me. I'll stop in to check." He left the counter, and I proceeded to place his special order.

A minute later he came back and asked me, "Are you sure I didn't confuse you with the books I wanted to order?" I showed him my monitor, pointed out each title, and said, "No, this is what you asked for!" He thanked me and left. I called out a similar thank you, and once he was out the door, said to my manager, "Thanks for the vote of confidence." My manager said "Seriously." (I'm so glad he has my back.)

It's funny. Yeah, this is a retail job, but each retail job has Things You Come To Know. So if you're working in X clothing store, you get to know your products and the distribution system. The same goes for a bookstore. And I was flabbergasted that this guy thought I might not be capable of placing an order for the books he wants.

And my hair isn't even blonde anymore.

____________________________________

The second happening (and I should probably make this another entry), was the picking-up of a special order. A semi-local, horse farm-owning woman who's hard of hearing ordered a book which was released this past Tuesday (I'm writing this on Thursday, two days after the release of said book). When she was in our store last week, it took her about two minutes of convincing to realize that we didn't have the book she wanted, because it hadn't been released yet. She decided to place a special order for it, which was fine. She gave me her name, and said that it should be in our system, since she'd ordered from us before. This was true, but she was in the system last name first, so rather than being listed as Bertha Ballcrusher, she was Ballcrusher Bertha. 

I placed the order and modified her file so that it conformed to the first name/last name system we use. I'm going to call her Ballcrusher Bertha, though. 

Today Ballcrusher Bertha called the store in order to inquire how much the book she'd ordered cost, sales tax and all. She wanted to write a check for the full amount, because her son was going to come to the store with said check and pick up the book. I rang up the book, gave Ballcrusher the total, repeated it just to be sure, and then canceled the sale.

A couple of hours later, a middle-aged man entered the store. At first I thought he was with a woman who was walking slowly with a cane, but as soon as he could get around her, he did, and he made a beeline for the counter.

At that point I knew who he was, so I was reaching for his mother's special order while he was asking for it. I brought the book to the register, and noticed that he was looking at the check his mother had written. He asked me "What's the list for this book?"

I was thinking, "Nice use of lingo there, dude," but I said, "Thirty dollars."

He replied "You sell this book at list price," as if it were a crime.

I answered, "Yes, we do. We can't do it any other way, sir." 

He acquiesced, since he had a check from his mother for the full amount, $31.80, but I feel sure he was going to give her shit for not buying the book from W*lM*rt, where she could have paid the wholesale price.

Then I asked if he'd like a bag, and he said yes, but when I brought it up from underneath the counter, he said, "Don't you have anything smaller?" I said, "I have something thinner," and showed him the flimsy bag we sometimes use if a book is large or lightweight. Ballbuster Bertha's son then refused all bags and left.

I rolled my eyes, and then I bitched about him to Allan on Gmail chat:

me: Jackass just came to pick up the book for his deaf mother, and when he saw the book, he asked for the list price. I told him "Thirty dollars," and he said, kind of incredulously, "You sell it at list." I said, "We can't do it any other way."

 Allan: Oy.

5:08 PM me: I know, right?

  And this is from a guy whose mother owns a horse farm.

  So, um, FUCK him.

 Allan: Did he buy it?

5:09 PM me: Yes, because he had a check from her for the exact amount; she called earlier to know the price with tax.

 Allan: Fuck him.

 me: Exactly.

Yeah, so there you go. I'm totally Judgy McJudgerson. But Ballcrusher Bertha gets points for buying her books from our store, even if she is totally deaf and very hard to deal with.

It's funny how the strange stories happen on the same day. I hadn't felt the need to tell a bookstore story since that time back in November, because I had three episodes of weirdness in one day. Today I had two episodes. And either I haven't been paying attention, or this was the first day since November that there were customers who exceeded the norm.

Although, if you really think about it, it was a couple of male chauvinist customers. The one wasn't sure I could handle the order he placed, and the other wasn't sure his mother was sane for buying a book at our store when she clearly could have bought it at W*lM*rt.

Hmmm.

Tickled

Mmm, maybe "tickled" isn't the right way to express it. But "hooting with laughter" just seems kind of mean.

During work today, I ran to the grocery store (almost) next door, and I stopped short when I saw this sign on a grocery cart that stood in place of an endcap:

SPECIAL!
Easter Candy
priced as mark

Who's Mark, and how much does he cost?

Not Feathered

Just tarred. Long day. Came home early from a show at Cosmic Charlie's. (I KNOW, RIGHT?)

That is all.

I Promised

...more about the Black Eyed Peas concert, but at this point, I feel like I'm kind of over it. The most important thing was the fact that it was a theatrical arena show, and I haven't seen one of those in ages.

Allan and I have seen a lot of live music in the past few years, but what we've seen has been in music clubs and bars. The last time I saw a concert in an arena, it might have been the Grateful Dead in Pittsburgh's Civic Arena (now Mellon Arena) in 1988, 89? Or it might have been The Who in Three Rivers Stadium (RIP. The stadium, not The Who, well, you know what I mean). Let's just say it's been 20 years since I saw a show in a place capable of holding that many people.

I definitely prefer the intimacy a music club offers. Lexington had a great music club until it didn't, but we have a couple of substitutes which fill the hole nicely. I will admit, it was pretty cool to see a show with such great effects and lighting and performers who own the stage.

Here's a review of the show, if you're interested. And here's another photo:

We were sorry to have missed Will.I.Am's DJ set at Buster's (one of the places that fills the hole, although they could book more bands for sure) after the concert, but it was an 18+ show, and we weren't about to drop the kids off here and go back out. It's okay, though, we had a great evening. If BEP comes to your town, it's worth a go.

I've Come This Far

I really don't feel like writing (but it is NaBloPoMo), so I'm just going to make this quick. Before yesterday's sad news, I had plans to go see Ben Sollee in concert here in town. My friend Rebecca and I still went, and it was wonderful. And while I can't seem to make any words leave my brain, someone I know did. Maybe it's a cop-out on my part, but here's what Tom Eblen had to say about the show. He got some great photos in the very low light. Oh wait, I do have something to say: Sollee has an exquisite voice.

To finish, I'll post one of Ben Sollee's videos. Because you need to see and hear him.

I Love A Parade

Late this afternoon the city of Lexington held its annual Christmas parade and lighting of the tree. The marching band I'm in participated in the parade, and I wanted to share our routine with those readers who might be interested.

This video was filmed at our last practice, and it mostly shows the hoop girls so that they could watch the video and get the routine down pat. Our bell glockenspiel player had to leave practice early, so you can't hear his essential part in the beginning. Here's the medley: Carol Of The Bells ➞ Hazy Shade Of Winter ➞ Snow Miser ➞ Ice Ice Baby ➞ Here Comes The Sun ➞ Let The Sunshine In. If our videographer posts tonight's performance on YouTube, I'll post it here. It's really much better when we're in costume!

The Block

I never wrote much about it, probably because it was hard to parse my feelings. Here's one blog entry I wrote on the subject (some of the links within are now dead). Life went on in Lexington. The Dame re-opened, then closed less than a year later. Buster's just re-opened in September. Longue vie à Buster's.

This past Friday evening, a local photographer presented an exhibit of photos and paraphernalia from the block that used to be the heart of Lexington. Richie Wireman was given access to the site by the demolition company, and he found an incredible number of artifacts, easily disproving the mayor's claim that "nothing of consequence ever happened on that block." Here are a couple of articles about Wireman's show, and they will give you the information that you might need. First, from Ace Weekly. Click on "11.18.09 - Visual Block" — it's a PDF, but it's worth the read. And our friend Schankula wrote it. Next, a piece from the Lexington Herald-Leader. If you're local, pick up the latest issue of North of Center (their only online presence is a Facebook fan page); there's a good article in there, too.

The highlight of the exhibition was a 10- or 15-minute slideshow comprised of comprising [thanks, bhd] hundreds of photos Richie Wireman took on the block throughout the years. It was set to live music, and it was a very moving piece of work. By the end, I had tears rolling down my cheeks. I said to Allan, "The weird thing is, I've only lived here for three and a half years!"

This is a very condensed version of the slideshow. Perhaps it will give those of you not in Lexington a sense of the loss the city suffered when those buildings came down.

It's Late And I'm Tired

Untitled, originally uploaded by Alison.

...so here's a photo. It's a couple of months old. For a little more info, click on the pic.

Working The Retail

I work part-time in a book store. It's a very cool job, and most of the time I love it. Today, however, I dealt with some difficult customers.

One woman stuck her head in the door, said "I'm going to make this quick," then proceeded to suck my brain dry for the next fifteen minutes. She was looking for a particular book, and when I showed it to her (and she discovered it was a series), she began to hem and haw over the price, and which ones to get for her grandchildren, and could they share.

[Note to lady: not only can your grandchildren share, they SHOULD share.]

Then she pointed to one of the books in her hand and said to me "How do you know that's the second book in the series?" I pointed to the number on the spine, and said "The number is on the spine." This kind of thing went on for a while, meaning I repeated information to her about 80 billion times, and then she asked why the latest book in the series didn't have a "#1 New York Times Bestseller" teaser on the cover. I had to explain that it had been released fairly recently, and wouldn't automagically appear on the bestseller list. Except I was much nicer about it, and didn't use the word "automagically."

  *****

Unidentified

Unidentified, originally uploaded by Alison.

Been a while since I've posted a photo. I took this last Friday night at the Green Lantern.

Moar* Music

I know I've talked quite a bit about music here recently, but that's because it's going on. Tuesday night we saw the Wailers; tonight we're seeing the Asylum Street Spankers (a band I'd never heard of until a month ago). Last night we could have seen the Dirty Dozen Brass Band, but we stayed in.

There's so much live music in Lexington, it's just amazing. I feel so lucky to have the opportunity to see so many great bands. And the local music scene is just as incredible.

And that's my little quickie post for today. Time to eat dinner and get ready to go. W00t!

*apologies to I Can Has Cheezburger.

Score!

Allan won two tickets to see the Wailers tonight. A perfect ending to a pretty darn good day.

White Trash Nation

The other day we were driving behind a huge pickup truck, a Ford F-350 —I think— in any case, it was so large it needed a double set of back tires. A pair of shiny silver testicles dangled from the hitch.

And I just sighed and thought it was an example of the worst and the best in this country. It's the worst because, just, eww. Nobody wants to see that, not even a shiny metal caricature of it. It's the best because some guy (it had to be a guy) had an idea and was able to see it through to actual sales. GO, AMERICA!

Allan (who gets props for the title of this post) could see the driver from his vantage point. He had a mullet.

So, you wanna see the photo or not? Because you know I took one.

Edit: The yeas have it. All three four of them. Photos after the jump.

I Need To Invest In A Good Set Of Earplugs

There's no shortage of live music in Lexington. Local, regional, national, and even international (I'm looking at you, Os Mutantes) acts have their place here.

We just got back from seeing Ekoostik Hookah, and WOW. One of my big brothers is a huge fan, and I can see why. Fun stuff. For a jam band, they rock out. (Because, um, when I think "jam band," I think "Grateful Dead," and WE MISS YOU, JERRY!)

My point is that I am so glad there's a lively music scene here. It feeds my soul.

There's more I could write, but my ears are ringing and I just need to sit. And yeah, I'm totally backdating this entry. It's 2 am on Saturday.

Could It Be?

...that things are changing round here?

Lexington is getting another roundabout. There are two I know of, a dinky, stupid one on Reynolds Road, and a new one out at the Horse Park. I've long said that this city needs more roundabouts. And if you live in Lexington, you know how STUPID the traffic is here. Putting a roundabout at certain intersections would help the flow of traffic.

It's true that a roundabout takes some getting used to, but really, the concept is quite simple: Yield to those in the roundabout. If you are turning right or going straight, stay in the outside lane. If you are turning left, get in the inside lane of the roundabout. USE YOUR TURN SIGNAL.

It's true that I became adept at navigating roundabouts in France. This past spring I heard that my département, la Charente-Maritime, was a pilot département for roundabouts, so we have more than the rest of the country. I haven't verified this. In any case, I love them. LOVE. 

So it's good news to me that we are getting another roundabout. I may have to head over to that part of town, just to drive on it.

How do you feel about roundabouts?

More info:

Roundabout Safety and the Modern Roundabout

Alaska's Roundabout Website (chock full of information!)

Photos of Roundabouts

Edit: Mama really needs to edit before she hits Publish.

Here I Go

OK. I'm going to try NaBloPoMo again. If anything, it will be a good exercise in writing and self-discipline, right?

I've been rather silent here about personal things, but if we are friends on Facebook, you'll know that Allan and I have a pretty rich social life. I suppose one could blame Facebook on what seems to be an across-the-board lassitude with blogging. I'm not the only blogger who's cut way down on posting. To some degree I suppose it's true: Facebook has a more immediate feel to it, plus, you can really control who sees what you post there. 

In any case, let me write a bit about an activity (and a big part of that rich social life I mentioned) that's held me captive (in a good way) for the past 8 months. I'm in a marching band. I play the flute.

This is not just fanfares and John Philip Sousa. This is funked up music performed by some of the most creative people I've ever met. We play music written by Quincy Jones, James Brown, Squirrel Nut Zippers, and Edgar Winter, among others. We have a troupe of dancers called hoop girls, who accompany us with joy, grace, and beauty.

We've been noticed, too. We were asked to play at Louisville's Forecastle Festival this past summer, and last night we held the attention of 1000 people who were at Buster's to see Man Man.

But this isn't just about patting the collective group on the back. (Although, seriously, people? We. Are. Awesome.) It's about how much pleasure I get from playing music again, performing for people, seeing their reactions to the marching band (which really ought to have air quotes around the "marching" part; we strut and mosey and dance), and feeling the creativity and love pouring out of my fellow band mates. 

It's hard to find the words to express all my feelings about the March Madness Marching Band. I'm out of practice with writing, and feel I'll fail if I even try to explain. And while it might sound hyperbolic, I'm pretty sure this is one of the best things that's ever happened to me.

An Open Letter

Dear Lady In The SUV Trying To Pull In The Parking Lot Which I Was Leaving,

Perhaps if you had had both hands on your steering wheel, instead of one on the wheel and the other on your cell phone, you would have been able to make your turn without waiting for me to pull out. Really, I wasn't in the middle of the parking lot entrance. I wasn't blocking you in my little Honda Civic. And I took a risk leaving the parking lot when I did, because it was hard for me to see around your large vehicle.

Next time, SUV Lady, hang up your damn phone and just drive. 

Sincerely,

Alison

EDIT: I don't have anything against SUVs per se. I realize they can be useful automobiles. I just can't see around or through them!