Blow Up lebt!

Received this SMS from Botschaftler last week:

Bitte beachten Sie auf das folgende Dispatch aus Bonn. Der infamous late-night Lokal und Konsulat unserer Organisation, “Blow Up”, macht künftig dicht, bzw., zieht um in eine gr?ere und bestimmt völlig beschissene Lokation, was deutlich auf das Ende unserer heiligen Tradition, nämlich “Explodieren,” hinweist.

Adam, thanks for the message and hope you drank at least one Kölsch and one Pils each for each of us. With those little .2 pours and a 5 a.m. curtain call, noch eins never hurt anybody.

Photo by Jennifer Wetzel, summer 2011

Snowverwhelmed

James and Laura and Gage built this. I just came over to inspect and feel dwarfed by the massive size of this thing. It fell apart only about 20 minutes later.

A look back at 2012

Because it’s been so long since I web-logged anything personal, and because this was such a memorable year, here’s a little pictorial of 2012 from Jennifer and me.

Late January, near Kaw Point, looking for inspiration for the site we launched this year.

Made my first visit to the new performing arts center, seen here in February. Going back to see Mahler’s 6th in a couple of weeks.

Exploring the West Bottoms with Jenn. Between Genessee and Wyoming.

This is my dad and I at Antioch Park circa 1981. We had a few election year disagreements, but I love and respect the man and am enjoying following in his footsteps as a father, even if I’ll probably never be quite as buff.

Ruby and me, Antioch Park, 2012.

First trip to Austin, for Justin and Jillian’s wedding in May.

Our whole family did the Color Run this year at Arrowhead Stadium.

Long exposure, 4th of July, Kansas. Willow trees by the lake.

Jennifer started painting, at home and with the Kansas City Plein Air Coterie.

Ruby and me above Rattlesnake Lake, Washington state.

Rainbow over McLelland park in Joplin, MO.

Exploring an old silo near the old family farmstead outside Eudora, KS

Ruby learns to sit up with a giraffe from the shower my colleagues kindly threw for us.

A boxcar was installed on the green roof of Cosentino’s Market, where I often eat lunch.

Got on a big banjo kick this year. This is a photo Ahram took of Lee, Willie and me at a pig roast.

This was also the first year I ever placed in the annual Magnabing Pumpkin Carving Contest (3rd).

Ladybug and Kermit, Halloween.

Reading with Kate Lorenz at the Raven Bookstore in Lawrence. She invited me to take part in the Big Tent reading series there, and I also got to read and contribute to group exhibits at the Paragraph Gallery and La Esquina in KCMO.

The Wetzel ladies while visiting friends in Seattle.

To close, a bough of rainbow colored Christmas lights shining through a condensation frosted front door.

Thank you friends, family and colleagues for a fantastic 2012, and a very happy new year.

Apple Market closes, columnist gets a suntan

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Yesterday I was excited to see an article in the Kansas City Star about the closing of Westwood’s legendary Apple Market grocery store, which I’ve been going to since it was called United Super back in the early ’80s. City officials have informed us that the store will be closing soon to make way for a new Walmart Neighborhood Market, but no one I’ve talked to seems to know the exact details.

The column, written by Ink photo director Jennifer Hack, had some nice descriptions of the grocery store’s atmosphere, with its wobbly shopping carts and depressed cashiers. The high notes in Mariah Carey’s “Dream Lover” were barely audible over the loud hum of the prehistoric fluorescent lights is just a great line.

But in true Ink style, the article contained absolutely zero reporting, quotes or facts about the store’s closing, instead detouring into an eight-paragraph (!) soliloquy about the courage it takes to wear a bikini in public. That’s unfortunate, because there are a lot of interesting human interest stories at play in the closing of this notably outmoded grocery store.

If Hack had taken the time to ask the cashiers why they look so depressed, she might have learned that some of them are single mothers who have recently learned they won’t be able to transfer to the business taking its place. She might have also mentioned that the new store will be a Walmart, which was reported by the Business Journal back in early May but strangely absent from this piece. What will these cashiers do next?

She could have talked to the store’s long-time owners, who were known for giving discounts to shoppers buying food for their church and school functions. Walmart will undoubtedly be a cleaner and more modern facility, but it’s hard to imagine it having the same handmade signs, off-brands and personal quirks that made Apple Market what it was. Will having a corporate owned store instead of a locally owned business affect the community at all, or will anyone even notice? Would be interesting to hear what Apple Market owner Alan Wiest has to say after running the place for 30 years.

The author could have looked into the history of the place and discovered that in 2003, Apple Market was the site of Westwood’s only murder, when store clerk Ray Ninemire was gunned down one Friday morning by a man reportedly dressed as Abraham Lincoln. Ninemire, who spent hours drawing signs with folksy slogans like “Park it, Margaret, let’s Apple Market!,” was shot after coming to the aid of a female clerk. A large case file sits on the shelves of the Westwood police department, but the killer was never found. Are they still looking for him, or is the case officially closed?

In my opinion, this kind of stuff would have been much more interesting than Ms. Hack’s lengthy confession that she’s traded in her two-piece for a tankini. But this is the Kansas City Star in the age of Ink, when columns read more like Facebook posts than news stories, and any real reporting is apparently discouraged.

Ms. Hack seems like a nice, thoughtful person, and I wish her the best with her new column even if it seems like she’s just trying to be the new Jenee so far. She might like shopping at Apple Market because nobody there knew her name. But to get a real story, there’s still no substitute for actually talking to people.