Month: January 2022

I have a family that I never spend time with, barely talk to, and know nothing about. I call them my greenway family.

Ever since the onset of the Covid scare, I have been a bit gun shy about going to the gym. Nothing against gyms but, you know, close contact, sweaty bodies, sharing common equipment and all that. So, as a replacement for the exercise, my dachshund Oscar and I embark on a daily walk down Trussville’s greenway. It’s a beautiful stroll along the Cahaba.

I rarely miss a day. Sometimes my wife Sharon will go along, but most often it’s just me and Oscar. Funny thing is, it’s turned out to be much more than exercise. You see, if you want to meet Trussville, I mean really catch a cross section of the people who live in and frequent our city, take a walk on the greenway. You will encounter young and old, black and white, male and female, tall and short, some who are badly out of shape, huffing and puffing, others ripped like Hercules, jogging past as though they are ready for the Olympic trials.

Most will unfailingly greet you with a smile and a hello. Young tots always want to stop and pet Oscar. He loves the attention. Some are deeply absorbed in whatever is playing on their earbuds and will be too distracted to make eye contact, but they are in the minority.

Then there are the regulars. You won’t know who the regulars are unless you are one, like Oscar and me. For example, there are the two sweet ladies pushing a small child in a stroller. They might be sisters. They kind of look alike. They always greet me warmly and make a point of saying hi to Oscar. There is the young couple that walks at a terrific pace, grinning and sharing a greeting as they blow past you. They will lap you several times before you finish. Here comes that older gentleman on a bicycle. He rings his little bell as he comes up from behind to let you know he’s there.

Another couple approaches riding bikes. The man is towing a little enclosed wagon with a dog inside of it. It’s also a dachshund. In fact, he will almost always call out “Dachshunds rule!” as he rides past. One young man passes me saying “Go Pack Go.” I yell back “How ’bout them Cowboys”. That’s all we’ve ever said to each other. We know each other’s favorite teams only because of the fan shirts we have worn during our walks. There is the Park & Rec employee who always takes a break from cutting grass when I go by to tell me about the latest disc golf competition he is entering. The lady with the large, beautiful dog (not sure of the breed) who has trained it to step off the sidewalk and sit quietly when another dog walks by. (Oscar would never do that.) The older fellow who is labored and a bit stooped over. He never speaks, but always flashes you a big smile and a point of the finger.

Of course, Oscar has his own set of familiar, furry faces. At one time or another he has buddied up with breeds and mutts of every size, shape and disposition. He knows who his friends are, and who just want to be left alone.

I see these random folks almost every day. Don’t know their names, don’t know anything about them, other than what I observe as they come by. Yet, somehow, they have become a kind of family. My greenway family. I can’t explain it, but they give me a sort of irrational stability, continuity. All is okay in the world. I miss them when I don’t see them. I’d like to think they miss me too on the rare occasions I’m not out.

Maybe some of them will read this and recognize that I am writing about them. Then maybe next time we pass on the path they might stop and chat a bit. I might even learn their name. But I wonder….would that ruin it? Is the charm of just passing and greeting and smiling, without having to put any effort into a conversation, precisely what makes the experience so appealing? Uh. This is getting way too deep. Overthinking is not allowed.

Suffice it to say, some day the Covid threat will be over. It will be time for me to go back to the gym. But I’m pretty sure I will find the time to continue my walks. I will need to know my family is still there.

And Oscar has made it clear he requires the extra attention.

In the movie The Sixth Sense, young actor Haley Joel Osment utters the iconic line “I see dead people.” Well, I think I may have a sixth sense.

I hear buildings talking to me.

Okay, I see you edging a little further away from me on the sofa. I know it’s all in my imagination. But I can’t help feeling there’s something sad about a huge, ornate building that formerly housed a popular, thriving business, now standing empty and abandoned. The Trussville area has its fair share of these.

Take, for example, the edifice on Trussville Crossings Boulevard. The one next to Zaxby’s. It used to be a Costa’s restaurant. We ate there several times. But it has stood empty now for several years, falling apart and getting overgrown with weeds. Every time I drive past it, a melancholy feeling comes over me. I feel like I can hear it calling out to anyone who will listen, saying “Hey, I used to be pretty and popular. I used to be loved. Now I’m forgotten and alone. Nobody cares. Won’t somebody please buy me and fix me up? I want another chance!”

I get the same vibe from the former Moe’s Southwest building across the street. Or the former Wendy’s/gas station structure on Highway Eleven. Or the store that housed The Straw Hat at the corner of Main and Chalkville Road, which has also been a pizza shop and a soda fountain/pharmacy.

Others just seem injured and in waiting for medical care, like the fire-damaged Kemp’s restaurant by the railroad tracks. And don’t kid yourself. They are very jealous of the shiny new structures going up all around them, like the new school administration building, the Rodney Scott barbecue place and the Hero donut shop. “Sure,” I hear them saying. “It’s easy to attract attention when your paint is fresh and your landscaping is manicured, when you’re the hot, new business in town. But will they still love you when you’re old and your novelty has worn off?”

The emanations I get are not always downers. Take the former K-Mart building off Chalkville Road. I clearly remember the early nineties when Trussville was considerably under-retailed. K-Mart was really the first major chain of its kind to come to town. We were all so happy that our sleepy little burg was getting some shopping! But as the flood of other stores poured into the city, K-Mart began to fade, and when it finally shut the doors for good, the huge, vacated building seemed to heave out a sigh that I felt with every passing journey.

Small wonder then that when these buildings do get a second life, they are overjoyed. That Former K-Mart is being revived with not one, but three different tenants. Ollie’s, Tractor Supply and a pet store are bringing life back to the old brick and mortar, and it gives me a good feeling. I can almost see the smile on the walls when I pull up into the parking lot. I can hear the Chinese buffet and Mexican restaurants next door shouting “Welcome to the neighborhood. Thanks for the new foot traffic!”

I felt like I was picking up on joyful sounds from the old Food World, when Fresh Market moved in, and eventually got an exciting new neighbor as Ace Hardware took up residence to rescue the Tuesday Morning space. I swear I hear giggling when I pass the old Zoe’s restaurant, as Five Guys prepares to take over.

Sometimes I think I feel impatience, almost like a foot tapping or fingers twiddling. When Edgar’s Bakery opened, that stately white companion building next door was all dressed up, but with no one to embrace. “C’mon,” it would call to me. “Look how pretty I am. Surely someone wants to dance with me.” And finally, it was “spotted” by Eyes On Main (pun intended).

So the next time you are driving through town, and you pass a building that is empty, or newly occupied, or brand new, don’t be surprised if feelings come over you. Feelings that seem to talk to you. It doesn’t make you weird. It just makes you like me.

Well, I guess that does make you a little weird.