Buehler
Avenue Blues
The
city department of public works is fixing the street in front
of my
house. They sent over a construction crew of twenty-six. Ten
to chat among
themselves. Four to chat with the neighbors, six to watch
the weather, four
to direct traffic, and two to actually fix the street. The
weather guys are
really important. If it rains, they have to call off the work.
If it looks
like it might rain, they have to call off the work. If it
gets too hot,
they have to call off the work. To date, they have ripped
out my mailbox.
So I need to drive to the post office for my mail. They shut
off the
electricity at will so I need to get a friend to tape my soap
opera for me.
They closed the street so I have to park two blocks away and
drag my garbage
can and recycle bin to another street. On the positive side,
they have
given me the rare opportunity to experience aspects of the
Old West from the
comfort of my living room; the Great Dust Bowl and the Grand
Canyon. My
neighbor checks in on them hourly. It’s a good thing
because one of the
layers of fill turned out to be the wrong kind of dirt. By
the time they
found the right dirt, the frost had set in. This has put them
another year
behind schedule. I won’t mind having them around another
summer. Most of
them are stimulating conversationalists. One in particular
watched me drag
two suitcases, a couple of boxes, and a garment bag the two
blocks to where
I park my car. “I bet you’re goin’ outa
town,” he said. If you need to
brave the ‘road closed’ signs of Buehler Avenue—beware.
I am missing
several newspapers and a garbage can cover. My favorite old
sneakers
disappeared in the muck right off my feet. Penny down the
block, has been
searching for her toddler for over six hours. So—be
careful out there.
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