a couple of days ago, i observed one of those “anniversaries.”
you know, the “life-altering” ones. i’ve had a few.
they caused things like scrap bar and goodbye blue monday to happen.
i’m writing a book about it.
it was two years ago in the holding cell behind the brooklyn criminal courts building, my head resting on the black wool cap i’m wearing right now, when i had the detroit dream that propelled me from New York, the town of my birth, to the great upper-midwest and this moment.
granted, it took a few months to get out of town, what with court appearances and court-appointed work details in maria hernandez park, but in my heart and mind, i was gone while awaiting the dawn, a lawyer and arraignment that morning.
in that dream, i was told to move to detroit, write a book and make pasta fagioli.
i have done and am doing these things.
as a matter of fact, just before i sat down to write this, i delivered four portions of “edie’s gourmet spicy-sausage pasta fagioli.”
this isn’t about money or business. it’s about dreams and direction, or at least, that’s what i choose to believe.
but that’s another story.
i’m chock-full of those things. stories.
on this anniversary, i received a text message.
in january, a young woman named kelley contacted me through the website, writing this as a comment posted about the closing of the store. it’s still there;
“Hey, I’m planning to move to Detroit next month and think Goodbye Blue Monday should move with me. Please contact me…..”
i answered her and a series of IM’s went on, with me telling her i was the creator of the goodbye blue monday, and such.
she went on, the gist being…
“when i saw GBM closed, i was unhappy. things are changing way too fast in brooklyn. i don’t like it here anymore and i’ve decided to move to detroit. would you mind if i tried to open a goodbye blue monday there?”
“ha,” i replied, “i’ve been living in detroit for a year and a half and if you want to open a goodbye blue monday here, i’ll help you!”
we exchanged numbers and had a long conversation the following day.
she said her plan was to leave new york at the end of february.
early into this chat, i let her know that i had nothing to invest and was finished with this part of my life.
i think the red-stripe-beer-bottle to the cheekbone, three weeks before the arrest, made that decision for me. that, plus this dream-book-thing.
(a drunk guy i lured away from the counter and possible bartender assault, threw it in my face from five feet away. severe black eye and almost broken cheekbone.)
“hey, kelley,” i said, before signing off, “contact me a week before you leave and let me know if you have room to bring the store’s airplane and sign with you.”
i explained that my friend tito cut down the sign for me and was storing it until i could get it.
she said that she’d make room and she did.
so, on the two-year anniversary, i got this text;
“got the sign. see you tomorrow,” and the next day, there she was.
is there gonna be a goodbye blue monday here in detroit?
i don’t know, but when i met kelley as she got out of her pickup truck, her cat sitting on a high pile of whatever on the passenger seat, i peered at the tarped mountain rising from the back of the truck and thought….”she can do anything.”
i believe this.
and if she opens up a goodbye blue monday here and wants the airplane and sign, i’ll mount it in front of her store.