Tuesday, April 13, 2004
Easter Parade
Let me tell you a little something about Easter in Quincy, IL. First of all, they need to move the damn place closer to Chicago. Five hours is just too far to have to drive to eat ham with your ninety-three-year-old grandmother and play canasta with your parents. This is especially true if your car stereo is going through a phase of demonic possession where it constantly plays the Spanish radio station, and only the Spanish radio station, even when it is ostensibly turned off. I say we just bulldoze a couple of suburbs and put Quincy there. No one will miss them.
Secondly, I must extol the many virtues of my hometown. Oddly enough, the Chicago Tribune ran a feature on Quincy in the travel section this weekend, which refers to it as a “town of fine old houses and churches, art and architectural museums, and numerous historic districts.” This is all very true. However, they neglected to mention that Quincy is also home to Dixie Creme Donuts, home of the World’s Yellowest Linoleum, not to mention the World’s Strongest Cigarette Smell. Seriously, my friend Kathy left her purse there overnight once and it smelled so bad so persistently that she had to throw it away. Nor did the Tribune disclose the wonders of the Casino Starlight Terrace, where Bud Light bottles are $1.00 and everyone you ever hoped not to see again after high school is gathered late into the night, officially to country line dance, but apparently only for the purpose of making awkward small talk with you. Most egregiously, however, this “newspaper” failed to report the existence of Quincy’s famed “Jesus Tree,” a tree in the shape of, well, a tree, which some people believe looks like our lord and savior. I trust that all of you have already begun drafting your angry letters to the editor, and this time not just to complain that the Cathy strip has gotten “too preachy.”
I had a nice weekend, though, all in all, and I have to say that the less urban life has its charms. There’s something nice about being able to drive without a major headache any time you feel like it, or just pop in to the Wal-Mart for light bulbs and athletic socks. And I like the fact that parks in a smaller town sort of just bleed into fields and backyards, rather than into freeways and condominiums. It’s a much slower, calmer way of life, and I’m not at all opposed to it. I just think they need to rethink the whole location thing.
Let me tell you a little something about Easter in Quincy, IL. First of all, they need to move the damn place closer to Chicago. Five hours is just too far to have to drive to eat ham with your ninety-three-year-old grandmother and play canasta with your parents. This is especially true if your car stereo is going through a phase of demonic possession where it constantly plays the Spanish radio station, and only the Spanish radio station, even when it is ostensibly turned off. I say we just bulldoze a couple of suburbs and put Quincy there. No one will miss them.
Secondly, I must extol the many virtues of my hometown. Oddly enough, the Chicago Tribune ran a feature on Quincy in the travel section this weekend, which refers to it as a “town of fine old houses and churches, art and architectural museums, and numerous historic districts.” This is all very true. However, they neglected to mention that Quincy is also home to Dixie Creme Donuts, home of the World’s Yellowest Linoleum, not to mention the World’s Strongest Cigarette Smell. Seriously, my friend Kathy left her purse there overnight once and it smelled so bad so persistently that she had to throw it away. Nor did the Tribune disclose the wonders of the Casino Starlight Terrace, where Bud Light bottles are $1.00 and everyone you ever hoped not to see again after high school is gathered late into the night, officially to country line dance, but apparently only for the purpose of making awkward small talk with you. Most egregiously, however, this “newspaper” failed to report the existence of Quincy’s famed “Jesus Tree,” a tree in the shape of, well, a tree, which some people believe looks like our lord and savior. I trust that all of you have already begun drafting your angry letters to the editor, and this time not just to complain that the Cathy strip has gotten “too preachy.”
I had a nice weekend, though, all in all, and I have to say that the less urban life has its charms. There’s something nice about being able to drive without a major headache any time you feel like it, or just pop in to the Wal-Mart for light bulbs and athletic socks. And I like the fact that parks in a smaller town sort of just bleed into fields and backyards, rather than into freeways and condominiums. It’s a much slower, calmer way of life, and I’m not at all opposed to it. I just think they need to rethink the whole location thing.
