Welcome to Forgotonia

One of the windows in my car was all messed up–when I tried to roll it up or down, the glass came out at angle and got stuck all cockeyed . So I took it to a place someone recommended to me, George’s, in Macomb. It turned out the place is still a neighborhood shop, located at the back of a house on MacArthur Street.

When I got there early one morning when it was still somewhat warm, I was greeted by a big guy who had a long-ish gray beard and who happened to be wearing bib overalls with no shirt underneath.

But despite his burly appearance, the guy–not the original George, apparently, but his son–drove me to work and was happy to answer all my chatty questions. He told me about his hobby of restoring old cars. He told me his father started the business in Macomb more than 50 years ago, and his brother works there, too, doing air conditioning repair, which gives them enough business to stay afloat.

I wanted to ask the seemingly gentle-giant guy  if I could take his picture, but, for some reason, as nice as he was, I chickened out. So at least here’s a pic of the sign, instead.

Have you noticed that a new business has moved into the strip mall just west of Wally World?

Apparently the sandwich shop with the Groucho-Marx-ish-sounding name, Ferpo’s, (which had replaced the defunked Quiznos), has disappeared, because a Sally Beauty Supply is now in its place.

On the one hand, it’s too bad we lost another option for eatin’. Especially if it was independently owned. (I never made it out there to check out the place.)

On the other, I like having the option to get stuff like nail polish and hair curlers on the cheap, (since, of course, I always toss them aside after one miserably failed attempt at application/use).

And apparently Sally’s offers lower prices on salon-type stuff. (My co-worker highly recommends the Generic Bed-Head.)

It’s a tough thing to support—like not hating puppies or kittens.

Even so, I bravely participated in last night’s Banned and Determined event, Western Illinois University’s celebration of the freedom to read (held in conjunction with the American Library Association), at Western’s Malpass Library.

(But no, I did not carry an NPR tote bag or wear vegan shoes.) Here I am, extolling the virtues of Harper Lee’s unbelievable book, To Kill a Mockingbird. (It’s a tough job…)

Alison, being determined about not banning

University Libraries' display of some banned or challenged books

Seriously, though, it unnerves me when parents try to ban books, robbing their kids of the ability to think for themselves. Especially when it’s a work of literature like To Kill a Mockingbird or The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, whose very messages (despite what some might consider to be crude portrayals or insensitive language) involve children developing their own abilities to see past racism and intolerance.

Like many people, I first encountered To Kill a Mockingbird when I was assigned to read it in high school English. I’ve re-read it once or twice as an adult. And as I read aloud from it last night, I was, as always, struck by the sense of voice—that of the smart, spunky “Scout” Finch—and the rich detail of small-town life, more than anything else. The fact that Harper Lee never published another work seems to somehow add to its perfection, as if it’s something to never be spoiled.

After the reading last night, (highlights of which you can see on University Libraries Facebook page), the organizer led a brief discussion about book banning, asking if there was ever a time when any of us present might see a reason for restricting access to any books or in any situation. And I do ask myself if there’s a possibility that, if I were a parent, I could quickly become a hypocrite on this issue.

I mean, sure, it’s easy to champion Mockingbird, but…what about material I truly find objectionable? How much of a freedom-of-speech-er will I be if my little nephews grow up to start liking gangsta rap, with its despicable portrayal of  “bitches and hos“?

And I completely empathize with the two women in the audience who expressed their concern the Twilight series, specifically about the female protagonist Bella constantly dismissing herself as “unimportant” while she swoons over a guy.

So I do see both sides. But I stand on the side of freedom to read ‘em.

ALA graphic for Banned Books Week

If you live in Macomb, you’ve probably by now received the new Righteously Huge Recycling Receptacle to put on the curb.

In theory, this is something that should make me happy. Ever since the city voted to have matching Behemoth Buckets and small recycling receptacles delivered to each house a couple of years ago, I’ll admit I’ve had this thought: doesn’t it send a subliminal message if your landfill-bound bucket is twice the size of the one that lets you be environmentally friendly ? I mean, I’m enough of a tree-hugging type to feel physical pain when a certain friend of mine throws our empty beer bottles in the regular trash (saying it’s “cheaper to not recycle,” which still makes no sense to me and which I am still mad at her about. Ahem.)

So I do actually like the idea of the new Righteously Huge Recycling Receptacles being delivered to everybody in Macomb. (You can get more of the trash-y details, ha ha, in the story from the McDonough County Voice.)

But there’s just one thing: now that we’ve got more capacity to store our plastic 1s and 2s, they’re only gonna pick up the recycling once every two weeks. Meaning I have to remember, on trash days, whether it’s its a Yes week or a No week to haul the Righteously Huge Recycling Receptacle to the curb.

doggone it, it's trash day

For most people, this is probably a non-issue.

For people like me, however—people who struggle endlessly with things like finding the other damn sock—this is not a happy announcement.

The company that picks up Macomb’s trash, to its credit, did send out a calendar that’s supposed to help me remember which day is recycling-pick-up day. A calendar which I promptly tossed into my recycling bucket. Why?

Recently, I’ve embarked on a journey: an attempt to slowly but surely improve my living space, to de-clutter, and, well, to not end up on Hoarders. As part of this de-cluttering process, I’m trying to allow as little paper to cross the threshold of my front door as possible. (BY THE WAY, CITY OF MACOMB AND TRASH CO., EVER HEARD OF E-MAIL? JUST WONDERING. THANKS.)

Since my brain will likely be occupied with other things, and never able to remember which week it is—Recycle Yay? or Recycle Nay?—I suspect I will be employing this plan along with many other Macombians: “Let’s see [craning neck toward neighbor's house], Bob’s got his yellow-topped one out… He’s a stand-up guy. I’m sure he kept his calendar. [Decides to schlep recycling bucket to curb].”

It will be follow the leader on the curbs across Macomb.

Independently owned restaurant to offer wine, jazz, and Southwestern cuisine:

Shiloh Bistro to replace ‘The Spaz’

Things have not been going well for the historic Macomb Square. After losing Camera Land and another business on the west side, it was announced this week that the facade on the building destroyed by fire in March is going to be torn down. And it’s been several months since The Spaz packed up and left town.

picture of old Il Spazio I borrowed from Google Images or somewhere

So let’s cross our fingers for the future prosperity of the Shiloh Bistro, a new restaurant to be located in the empty space where Il Spazio, a.k.a. “The Spaz,” was located.

I recently got in touch with man behind the plan, and he filled me on on the details. Shiloh sounds like the very kind of venue that Macomb desperately needs. Plus, it’s got a love story at its heart.

(Huge thanks to Jason Miller for giving me all the deets. In the grand tradition of blogging, I copy-and-paste our conversation here, offering the sloppy journalistic tactic of letting him tell you all the details himself.)

Here’s the scoop:

What and when: Shiloh’s Bar & Bistro will open in Mid-August.

Is Shiloh’s part of a franchise, or is it independently owned?
This will be a family owned, operated and managed business. I, Jason Miller, am the executive chef, and my wife, Kymberly, will also be a front of the house manager and PR director.

What kind of food will the new restaurant offer?
The menu is still in the works but will feature steaks, chops, seafood, and pasta created with the southwestern flavor: all chef-made meals with an excellent wine list as well as infused liquors such as homemade lemoncello. The cuisine will have a Texas feel to it, with a touch of pecan smoke on some meats, to specialty rubs, and delicious products like hill-country farm-raised quail.

Is this your first restaurant? How did the idea to open a business in Macomb come about?
I have had other restaurants in Texas (Houston), and [we are opening this one because] my wife and [I are]  moving back home as my family is from Rushville. I remodel/build restaurants myself, and I am currently getting the building ready for opening.

What will be some highlights/features of the new restaurant?

The front of the the restaurant will have a specialty market where my signature rubs & spices, specialty hard-to-get items, and our dishes par-cooked for our guests to cook our food themselves at home. Anything I use in my cooking will also be available for sale, as it is tough for the average person to come up with some of those ingredients in this small town. We will have monthly wine dinners and weekly app tastings. There will be a lunch menu featuring lots of sandwiches and more pasta dishes. We will have live jazz 3 nights a week and we also have a private dining room. The service will be amazing, as I have grown up in this business and know what it takes to please guests.

Is there any story or meaning behind the name?
In 2001, I moved from Dallas to Houston to build a restaurant with my uncle. Opening a restaurant takes LONG hours, and we had a waitress who let my dog, Shiloh, out on her breaks because I couldn’t get home until late at night. She eventually fell in love with Shiloh and that led to she and I beginning to date. Shortly after that, we were married, and we always say that Kymberly fell in love with my dog before me.;) Shiloh is the reason I have such an awesome wife.

(cue the Blue Oyster Cult music…)

Yes, this snowman is real, and yes, there is also another snowman with an empty case of beer for a hat (on a nearby street in Macomb).

(Saw this via a friend’s facebook comment and had to share for my out-of-town friends.)

Barbara Ehrenreich, author of  Nickel & Dimed: On Not Getting By in America, (which I read right after it was published, and liked–and I regret not going to hear her when she was right here in town), has published  an essay in The Financial Times that describes her visit to Forgotonia.

A quick sampling:

…. I’m staying at the Hampton Inn, a minimalist motel chain located opposite a Farm King, an agricultural supply store. I can’t help asking whether this is where the university puts up a genuine celebrity speaker, such as Bill Cosby. “Oh no,” I am told, “he flew in in his private plane and out the same night.”

As Heather, who made me aware of this essay, put it: it’s funny and sad at the same time.

(Make sure to catch the references to the late Spaz,  and to …well, WIU. And, for those of us all-too-familiar with QC commuting, to driving along Hwy 34.)

At least her take on the experience wasn’t quite as bad as Kurt Vonnegut’s. (She at least didn’t use the phrase  “Jerkwater U.”)

The story of how a spat between the local cops and a record store owner in Macomb—a spat that indirectly involved a certain Lollapalooza-founding band member—caused a controversy that got the attention of the ACLU and apparently some national news outlets.

Stay tuned!

(*oh and um “soon” may mean “after the holidays.” But do stay tuned!)

How cute are they?

Madre y Padre

I’m feeling very thankful today for the fact that I not only have two intelligent, funny, loving, and kind parents, and not only that they’ve stayed married for 40 years, but also that they seem to be happy about that decision. ;) It is almost easy to take for granted how truly lucky I am.

Saturday
We met up to celebrate last night for some fine dining, a la Aurelio’s in Macomb. (Pizza and playroom = not a bad idea when taking small kids out to eat.)

Serendipity, baby
In retrospect (1 day later, I mean), meeting up here seems appropriate for a different reason: my parents actually met in Macomb. They were students at WIU in the 60′s, (Dad a local farmboy studying horticulture, and Mom a northern-IL gal studying Spanish). They got engaged here in Macomb, too; if I have my story straight, Dad proposed to Mom under a tree on West Calhoun Street, just in front of the former Haeger Pottery, and across the street from a somewhat scurvy apartment where he was living with his friends (and which is quite possibly still very scurvy, but which fact I cannot prove). And now here I am more than 40 years later working for, and studying for a master’s degree at, the university where they met.

From ‘Frisco to…
For the first year after they were married, my parents lived in the San Francisco Bay area while Dad was stationed in the Navy (and did his subsequent Vietnam tour). But  farming awaited for my dad back home.

The fact that they lived in California–or that I didn’t get to–was something I used to c them about when I was a teenager.  “You guys lived in California and you came back here?” On purpose?!?

Now, though, I’m pretty glad we’re all right here in Forgotonia.

My parents opening their gifts

My parents (on the right) with me, my nephew Carl (1), my sister Melissa, my bro-in-law Andy, and my nephew Curtis (4). (My bf, Chris, took the pic. And, btw, we via the Internet.)

mi familia

Unless they’re just getting a whole new set of kitchen knobs or something, it doesn’t look too promising:

(Classified ad in the McDonough County This Week:

CLOSE-OUT SALE

The Secret Garden Restaurant close-out fixture sale will be held Thursday, June 25…All equipment, appliances, kitchenware and furniture will be sold…

Sniffle.

The one place in Macomb with outside tables, too!

Sniffle. Goodbye, portabello wrap. It’s been real.