Flesh Wounds

I just finished reading Flesh Wounds, a private detective novel by Stephen Greenleaf. It was an advanced reading copy (an ARC) that I found on my bookshelf while looking for something to read. The story features John Marshall Tanner, a San Francisco private eye, who travels to Seattle to help an ex-girlfriend find her soon-to-be stepdaughter, who has gone missing. I liked the book, and decided I might want to read others in the series. I still do, but was surprised to find that this ARC came out in 1996, and the author has long since retired from writing. Has this book been sitting on my bookshelf for the past 26 years, did I pick it up at a "Beautiful Junk" sale more recently, or did I obtain it in some other way? Twenty-six years is a long time to let a book to sit on a shelf, even for me. I very well might read the other books in the series, but first, I definitely need to go through all the clutter in my apartment. After 35 years living in the same building, things just seem to collect. Big time. Perhaps one of those services that make junk disappear just by pointing at it is the answer. They advertise on television, so it must be true, right?

Visiting Odell Brewery At Sloan's Lake

I recently stopped in at the Odell Brewery at Sloan's Lake here in Denver, and had a beer on their rooftop patio. I must say, it is a very pleasant spot, and provides a great view of the lake and park across the street. The brewery is located in what was once the dormitory for the nurse's school attached to St. Anthony's Hospital, which was located just down the street before it moved to suburban Lakewood. Where once the hospital stood is now all hipster housing, at appropriate hipster pricing.

I have biked past this place many times, but never stopped, knowing that if I locked my bike up in front, it would be gone by the time I got back. Such is life in Denver, even in a hipster hangout. Sloan's Lake was originally farmland, and the owner decided to dig a well to provide water. The next day, because he hit an underground spring, the entire farm became a lake. The City of Denver bought it, along with some surrounding land, and made it into a park. Good for Denver, bad for the farmer. At least now we can sit down on that patio, have a beer, and gaze out at the lake, watching hipsters at play. Life is good.

Proof At Last Of An Incomprehensible Reality

Years ago I traveled to Sicily on the overnight train from Rome, and really enjoyed my visit there. As I was leaving to catch a train to my next destination, I passed by a newsstand and saw a current calendar on sale featuring, of all people, Mussolini. I couldn't believe it. I was tempted to buy the calendar, just to show people back home that it actually existed, and that Mussolini was evidently still popular in Italy, but decided against it. When I got back home to Denver, I told people about this, and everyone found it hard to believe that Mussolini - the founder of fascism - was still admired in Italy to the extent that people would buy calendars to remind them of his reign. Recently, just for the fun of it, I looked up the Italian word for calendar and typed that, along with Mussolini, into Google Search to see if there were any web sites that might actually be selling such a thing today. And in fact, an entire page of images appeared showing years worth of these calendars, along with a link to a website selling both the 2022 and 2023 versions. It just boggles my mind. Of course, back when I saw the calendar at that newstand, it was a much saner world, long before Donald Trump and his gang of magaheads rose to power. I was really shocked to see such a thing back then. Of course, these days, Trump's former advisor, Steve Bannon, gushes over Mussolini's record and does not hide his admiration for him. I also read somewhere that one of Donald's Trump's friends gave him a book of Hitler's speeches before the 2016 election to help him learn how to fire up a crowd. And could there possibly be Hitler calendars on the market now, too? I have no intention of finding out - it would be depressing beyond words if there were.

Lamenting the State Of Chicago's Baseball Teams At Old Chicago

My friend Stuart - seen in the photograph above - and I had a late lunch at the Old Chicago Pizza and Taproom in Lakewood, Colorado yesterday afternoon, and neither of us was happy with the state of baseball in Chicago. Stuart, who is originally from the North Side of Chicago, is a Cubs fan, but the team is in a rebuilding mode, and is currently 20 games under .500 and 15.5 games out of first place. I myself am originally from the South Side of Chicago, and a White Sox fan, and although the Sox are 1 game over .500 and only 2 games out of first place, they are in a very weak division and have been very mediocre all season. They often split series with very bad teams when they should actually be dominating those opponents. They could very well make the playoffs, but if they play somebody good, I can guess what the outcome will be. Of course, being a life-long White Sox fan, I am usually able to find a dark cloud behind every silver lining. And I am seldom wrong, at least as far as baseball is concerned.

Are All These People From California, Or What?

I took the above photograph last week as my friend Stuart and I were leaving Stella's Coffee Haus on Old South Pearl Street here in Denver. I was just amazed at how many people were in line across the street to get into Izakaya Den, a local sushi restaurant. Are all these people refugees from California, home of the true crazies, where they actually like to eat raw fish? Or is it another example of people being brainwashed via social media to believe that sushi is actually good for you? It is raw fish, people! Just try ordering raw fish at a tavern on the South Side of Chicago, where I grew up, and see what the reaction is. Of course, back there, I am sure everyone at the bar will join together to talk you out of it, just as if you announced you were going to become a Cubs fan. No one on the South Side - White Sox fans all - would ever let that happen.

A Lazy Summer Day In Denver

It was 94 degrees here in Denver Sunday afternoon, and people were out and about, but moving pretty slowly. My sister Susan and I, along with her dog Blackberry, decided to check out the 16th Street Fair on Denver's 16th Street Mall, which is a fairly modest arts and crafts festival that takes place 4 different weekends during the summer, and seen in the photograph on the left. Many of the booths were more merchandise than crafts (unless you consider a t-shirt with cocaine spelled out using Coca Cola style script art), but it was still a good place to walk around and do a little people-watching.

I was able to find a parking spot just two blocks from the mall, in front of which was a restaurant that had a fiberglass cow on it's patio from the long ago Denver CowParade, which I have mentioned several times on this blog. When I first "mooved" to Denver back in 1981, it was still considered a cowtown, but after decades of people migrating here from California, it is now more of a hipster and techie kind of town, and the only time you see people in western wear is during National Western Stock Show, when actual honest to God cattle are driven down 17th Street, and the National Western Championship Steer is invited to the Brown Palace Hotel for afternoon tea. And its not even fiberglass, either.

Afterwards, we headed to the New Terrain Brewery in Golden, which is located right up against North Table Mesa in Golden, where I took the photograph on the left. This place has great views from its patio, a nice relaxed atmosphere, and very reasonable prices. What better combination could there possibly be? As ususal on the weekends, the place was packed, and every other person seemed to have a dog in tow. Staff helpfully come around and leave bowls of what I assume is light beer for the dogs to sip on. I myself did not get down on my hands and knees to try it, however - too much of a chance for blackmail photos. 

Remembering Key West. Again...

As I was going through my collection of old photographs looking for something to feature on a recent blog post, I ran across the photograph on the left that I took back in the late 1970s during a family trip to Key West. My sister Susan and I came down to Stuart, Florida from Chicago to visit our parents, Nelson and Mary, who retired there a few years earlier, and we decided to drive from there to Key West. I haven't been back since, although it was and still is a great place to visit. When I look at that photograph, I think of how Susan insisted on a hamburger from McDonald's instead of the sandwiches my mother had made, and we wound up at a park in Marathon, the mid-point  between Key Largo and Key West, to eat lunch.  On the other hand, Susan looked at the photo and noted it must be pretty old, since her hair was still it's original color - "ugh." Funny the things different people remember looking at family photographs.

Originally, Key West was a working class fishing village, and during the depression, when Ernest Hemingway lived there, most of the residents were on welfare. In the 1960s, it was a gathering spot for hippies, and later became popular with the gay community. Now, from what I have read, it is unaffordable for all but the rich, and many Key West natives (called Conchs) have moved to towns in northern Florida such as Gainesville, Lakeland, and Ocala, which are all far more affordable. And as I remember it, I took the photograph on the right of my parents around sunset at the Mallory Street Dock, where the crowd still applauds when the sun sets over the ocean. Are my parents not perfectly dressed for the 1970s, or what?