Nuff Said

Somewhere between Gardner and Edgerton:

Pickle-Minder

This is the time of the year when the right kind of cucumbers is available at the City Market and elsewhere to make pickles.



If you buy too much old dill just hang the leftovers in a dry place, it will dry up nicely and will be usable later on.
While you are at the market make sure to pick up a case of mangoes at the Little Saigon on 3rd and Grand.

That’s The Ticket:A Prequel

Recently my friend EmawKC (I struggled for years to figure out what it stands for and gave up) happily helped out the City of Overland Park with his almost voluntary donation.
Through the miracle of modern forensic science I was ably to recreate the events leading up to the event. I believe it started something like this:

This is a live reenactment of what happened just prior to the act of the donation itself:

*At this point of my research another policeman pulled up behind me and ruined the cinematographic moment. Although I wasn’t doing anything wrong being on public street filming a public employee, I didn’t feel like hanging out there any longer. Maybe next time time I will do a better job of blending in.

Railroad to the Past

Couple of weekends ago I was sitting at the Harvey House Diner inside the almost empty Union Station, drinking a strawberry milkshake and reminiscing. Not that long ago this place was crowded with thousands of people as the second largest train station in the country, filled with sounds, voices and emotions. Today it spends it’s days quietly, ironically populated by the dead. I am not old enough to remember the glory days of the Union Station but in another place and another life I rode my share of rails. There is something special about traveling by train. It’s an experience rather than just a means of transportation. On a long train ride you have time to relax, to think, to read, to sleep, to talk, to eat, play cards, meet people, sleep some more, and, most importantly, to look outside the window. You actually travel to your destination; you see changing landscapes; unknown places slowly pass before you; you wake up in the middle of the night at some station you’d never heard off, its sleepy inhabitants getting on the train and you can hear them walking through the rail car; you see a sunrise and then a sunset hundreds of miles later and the train keeps chugging along making that rhythmical sound that only a train can make and gently swaying from side to side. Finally you arrive, your train is greeted at the station by the sounds of a brass band and waving crowds trying to see a familiar face through the dusty window. You are tired and continue swaying even on the solid ground. A happy reunion or a new adventure awaits.

Many of my trips started at this train station:fun trips, work trips, trips that I loved and some that I didn’t, like the one to the army, or a trip to the unknown country when I left one last time, not knowing if I am ever coming back. Many times my parents or friends were there to wave good-bye or to meet me when I was coming back. I may not remember every time but I do remember the feeling, feeling of someone waiting for you. I think at least once in a lifetime everyone should travel by train, even for no other reason than to experience it.

In the meantime, you can always spend a slow lunch hour at the Union Station and imagine all the hustle and bustle of the past, the tears of joy or sadness, emotionless voice of the announcer, the constant hum of the crowd, whistles of the conductors, in other words life that used to be there and and now is not.

Union Station,
Old walls still remember
Sounds of life.

Old Photos: Kansas Pool Hall

I want this America back. Mostly for the hats. Hats, and no women in bars. Definitely no women in bars. But mostly for the cool hats.

Somewhere in Kansas, 1955.

A scene from a small town pool hall, with people just hanging out and relaxing.©Time Inc.Loomis Dean