My Nightly Squeeze
The Source
I’ll admit that I don’t get out much, but recently I discovered a whole new world right under my nose. This summer has found me spending many nights rehearsing a new musical at the Playhouse, located on the Jacksonville Square. The building has large windows facing west across the town’s center so as passers-by stop to peek in at us, I spend a good deal of time gazing out at them. The big news: our town square has a life. I don’t know the names of any of the regulars so I’ve come up with my own labels, like . . . The Walker. The walker walks. A lot. I have no idea how many times this lank, tanned fellow circles the square in an evening, but I can time the scenes of the play by his orbits. He smiles when he passes, no doubt offering a few silent suggestions for my actors. I assume that the Stroller Lady has a baby in her carriage. Sometimes she pushes the pram alone and often a younger girl accompanies her. I’ve never looked inside her mobile nursery but when that little tyke grows up he’ll have a good many square miles logged into his tiny abacus. Mister and Mrs. Cut Across are regulars on the Jacksonville Square. They’ve adopted the peculiar habit of avoiding circumnavigation and opting instead for diagonal jaunts across our city’s middle. Perhaps they’re forming a hexagram in preparation for some sort of ritual. And the anti-statue-climbers will be happy to learn that I’ve observed no late night mountaineers. There are often teenagers hanging about the statue’s base but I guess they’re too tired to scale her heights. Perhaps they’re Avon representatives since I often detect an exotic perfume coming from their direction as I climb into my car each evening. Which brings me to the subject of my lemonade stand. Where could I find a more perfect place? My brother and I ran a lemonade stand back in 1950’s Perry, Illinois, for exactly one day. Maybe when the temperature got above 90 we should have added ice. . . and sugar. But the Jacksonville Square has all the necessary ingredients: people are walking, the sidewalk is hot, and I’ve learned how to work an ice cube tray. Surely I could pick up a bit of business on hot summer evenings. Of course, I’ve had to deal with the Health Department. I have a couple of neighbor girls who often open a small stand near one of Arenzville’s six stop signs, right on the main drag across from Reg’s Auto Shop, but they are technically 40 yards over the Morgan County Line. I doubt they’d do well. Arenzville Lemonade Stand (Score: 79 out of a possible 100) -2 Servers must wear plastic gloves and hairnets at all times -4 All lemons must be stored at least 10 inches from the grass (theirs were actually in the grass) -3 Clean buildup in ice machine (they’d borrowed their mother’s ice tray) -3 Thoroughly clean serving area (the grass in the park needed mowing) -4 Servers must wear shoes (corrected on site) -5 All food must be properly labeled by date (County Market’s fault for not stamping the lemons) -5 Restrooms must be located closer to the establishment (the closest toilet is in the Wessler Brothers Insurance agency a half block away) All of which completely dashes my hopes of selling lemonade during breaks in our Playhouse rehearsal. But perhaps I could get by in claiming that my lemonade stand is a historical landmark since it’s located only a couple of doors down from where folks used to buy popcorn for ten cents a bag to take into the Illinois Theatre. Another alternative would be to bill it as “ghost elixir,” since the Hockenhull Building that houses the theatre is said to be haunted. In fact, the American Hauntings organization has actually investigated the place, but I could be charged with false advertising since the only evil spirits I know are the ones who make money writing about something as ridiculous as ghosts. Bottom line: the world needs more lemonade stands. When my brother and I established our front yard oasis we had several farmers stop to buy a glass. To my knowledge no one took more than a sip before politely pouring it on the grass behind their legs, but we got to meet some great people, and what’s a better summer’s evening goal than that?