My Army captain daughter suggested that on my next junket to Texas I bring along her bicycle. Although I had recently been there, a late February urge to get a jump on spring was enough for me to throw that bike in the back of my GMC, a lightly packed grip in front, and head out.
But first, some business in the Twin Cities - yeah, I know, wrong direction this time of year. Minnesota - frozen tundra most of the year and hordes of mosquitoes in the short summer. But Minnesota has been good to me, among other things affording me that most precious gift - steady employment during much of my career as an economist.
What's more, son Johnny is (thankfully) employed there - has an office with windows overlooking downtown Minneapolis - a stone's throw from the building in which brother Louie's son, Brian, is employed. Both are in economics-related jobs. I guess it runs in the family. Or maybe it's that Swiss gene set.
It was a pleasant drive to the Twin Cities, a familiar route I had traveled many times. I detest shopping, but needed some Levis. Johnny suggested the upscale Ridgedale Mall, a tribute to American consumerism. They didn't have my size. The clerk, trying to be helpful, suggested the Mall of America, an even more ostentatious monument to excessive American consumerism.
I find the Mall of America depressing. I opted for the Sears store in a semi-rundown area of St. Paul, near the Capitol building. They had my size. I climbed back into my GMC and headed north on Rice Street. Drab February weather, pot-holed street, rundown buildings, fast food joints - the city not at its best. I turned left on County Road B and ended up at the old Har Mar Mall.
When I had arrived in St. Paul decades ago, Har Mar was a lively, buzzing place. I had then strolled these same paths with two young kids in hand. Since then, the place has gone through several iterations. It's bigger now, and people were milling around. But it just didn't have the energy it once had.
I wandered into a new restaurant, ordered beer and buffalo wings, and reflected how urban history is tied to a progression of shopping malls. Har Mar was long ago superseded by the "dales;" Northdale, Southdale, Ridgedale, Rosedale and Brookdale. In his spoof commercials for the "dales," Garrison Keilor used to add Chip n' Dale, Roy n' Dale, Clydesdale, Ayrdale, Mondale.
Across from the old Har Mar Mall there once was an original Target store, then a division of Dayton-Hudson. Dayton-Hudson was absorbed by Macy's, and Target now stands on its own. There is still a Target store across from Har Mar, but it is one of those "super stores" in which you need to hail a cab to get from one end to the other.
The inexorable drift toward size meant that the "dales" would be superseded. They still exist but are dwarfed by the Mall of America, the monument to consumerism that I avoid. Since I was thinking about malls, and was so close to Rosedale, the "dale" that I occasionally frequented when shopping was unavoidable, my curiosity got the best of me.
The parking lot was packed. I finally found an empty spot and wandered in. I never cease to be amazed at the devious, diabolical ingenuity of the shrinks who design these upscale stores. They maximize the twists and turns, continuously forcing your eyes on new displays. P.T. Barnum had nothing over these suede shoe artists.
There is no clear way out of those stores - an obvious attempt to trap you. So much stuff, and most of it made outside the U.S.A. No wonder we're in trouble. Shipping jobs abroad, making it easy for American firms to produce abroad using what amounts to slave labor, all under the guise of efficiency.
The least we could do would be to negotiate tougher trade pacts in which producers abroad had to pay workers a living wage. A more equal distribution of income creates demand, which in turn creates jobs, and so on. The super-rich will not buy enough Gucci shoes and international airline tickets to put people at Deere and Cat back to work. That would take actual spending on construction projects, like roads, bridges and high-speed rail, which, not incidentally, would also make our economy more efficient. Funny how Socialist China understands that and our politicians who claim to be proponents of Capitalism do not. But that's another story.
Typical of these malls, so many shops in Rosedale had changed since I was there last. No stability anywhere, it seems. Maybe that's why we treasure our local icons such as Turner Hall, the Courthouse Square, and all the rest of it. We long for something stable in this world.
I finally found my way out of there. As I climbed into my GMC, my cell phone rang. OK, I plead guilty - I'm not totally against progress. It was old pal Tom - we were neighbors in St. Paul and our kids were in the same class. I shocked him - told him I was in town and would be at his house in 10 minutes.
I strolled into his house, informing him I was heading for Texas tomorrow. He said he had a week off. Could he go along?
Next morning, Tom tossed his lightly packed grip into my pickup, and we headed south, away from the snow. Or so we thought.
To be continued.
- Monroe resident John Waelti can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
But first, some business in the Twin Cities - yeah, I know, wrong direction this time of year. Minnesota - frozen tundra most of the year and hordes of mosquitoes in the short summer. But Minnesota has been good to me, among other things affording me that most precious gift - steady employment during much of my career as an economist.
What's more, son Johnny is (thankfully) employed there - has an office with windows overlooking downtown Minneapolis - a stone's throw from the building in which brother Louie's son, Brian, is employed. Both are in economics-related jobs. I guess it runs in the family. Or maybe it's that Swiss gene set.
It was a pleasant drive to the Twin Cities, a familiar route I had traveled many times. I detest shopping, but needed some Levis. Johnny suggested the upscale Ridgedale Mall, a tribute to American consumerism. They didn't have my size. The clerk, trying to be helpful, suggested the Mall of America, an even more ostentatious monument to excessive American consumerism.
I find the Mall of America depressing. I opted for the Sears store in a semi-rundown area of St. Paul, near the Capitol building. They had my size. I climbed back into my GMC and headed north on Rice Street. Drab February weather, pot-holed street, rundown buildings, fast food joints - the city not at its best. I turned left on County Road B and ended up at the old Har Mar Mall.
When I had arrived in St. Paul decades ago, Har Mar was a lively, buzzing place. I had then strolled these same paths with two young kids in hand. Since then, the place has gone through several iterations. It's bigger now, and people were milling around. But it just didn't have the energy it once had.
I wandered into a new restaurant, ordered beer and buffalo wings, and reflected how urban history is tied to a progression of shopping malls. Har Mar was long ago superseded by the "dales;" Northdale, Southdale, Ridgedale, Rosedale and Brookdale. In his spoof commercials for the "dales," Garrison Keilor used to add Chip n' Dale, Roy n' Dale, Clydesdale, Ayrdale, Mondale.
Across from the old Har Mar Mall there once was an original Target store, then a division of Dayton-Hudson. Dayton-Hudson was absorbed by Macy's, and Target now stands on its own. There is still a Target store across from Har Mar, but it is one of those "super stores" in which you need to hail a cab to get from one end to the other.
The inexorable drift toward size meant that the "dales" would be superseded. They still exist but are dwarfed by the Mall of America, the monument to consumerism that I avoid. Since I was thinking about malls, and was so close to Rosedale, the "dale" that I occasionally frequented when shopping was unavoidable, my curiosity got the best of me.
The parking lot was packed. I finally found an empty spot and wandered in. I never cease to be amazed at the devious, diabolical ingenuity of the shrinks who design these upscale stores. They maximize the twists and turns, continuously forcing your eyes on new displays. P.T. Barnum had nothing over these suede shoe artists.
There is no clear way out of those stores - an obvious attempt to trap you. So much stuff, and most of it made outside the U.S.A. No wonder we're in trouble. Shipping jobs abroad, making it easy for American firms to produce abroad using what amounts to slave labor, all under the guise of efficiency.
The least we could do would be to negotiate tougher trade pacts in which producers abroad had to pay workers a living wage. A more equal distribution of income creates demand, which in turn creates jobs, and so on. The super-rich will not buy enough Gucci shoes and international airline tickets to put people at Deere and Cat back to work. That would take actual spending on construction projects, like roads, bridges and high-speed rail, which, not incidentally, would also make our economy more efficient. Funny how Socialist China understands that and our politicians who claim to be proponents of Capitalism do not. But that's another story.
Typical of these malls, so many shops in Rosedale had changed since I was there last. No stability anywhere, it seems. Maybe that's why we treasure our local icons such as Turner Hall, the Courthouse Square, and all the rest of it. We long for something stable in this world.
I finally found my way out of there. As I climbed into my GMC, my cell phone rang. OK, I plead guilty - I'm not totally against progress. It was old pal Tom - we were neighbors in St. Paul and our kids were in the same class. I shocked him - told him I was in town and would be at his house in 10 minutes.
I strolled into his house, informing him I was heading for Texas tomorrow. He said he had a week off. Could he go along?
Next morning, Tom tossed his lightly packed grip into my pickup, and we headed south, away from the snow. Or so we thought.
To be continued.
- Monroe resident John Waelti can be reached at jjwaelti1@tds.net.
