TheBanyanTree: Memories and the City

[Margaret R. Kramer]

My women’s group winter board of directors meeting was held at a hotel in an
area known as the West Bank in Minneapolis – the west bank of the
Mississippi River.  It’s been cut apart by freeways, but if I looked hard
enough, I could still see some remnants of its Swedish roots – the old
buildings built in the late 1800s are still there, painted and refurbished,
but still providing shelter.  The West Bank then became Minneapolis’ skid
row in the 1930s-1950s.  In the 1970s, it was a place for wanna be hippies
to hang out and drop acid.

Also in the 70s, a  developer decided the West Bank would be a great place
to build a “new town in town,” a huge sky rise apartment system.  His name
was Keith Heller and the hippies on the West Bank hated him and took him to
court.  Heller managed to build Phase 1 of his “town in town” project with
government and private financial help, but the determined hippies shut him
down from doing any further development.  I think five HUGE sky rocketing
apartment buildings are on the West Bank today.  I lived in one of them
during the late 70s.

I was on section 8 housing, so my two bedroom apartment was cheap.  I didn’t
have to pay utilities except for phone.  I lived on five bus lines, which
was great, because I didn’t have a car.  And I was walking distance, in fact
right across the street, from the University of Minnesota where I was going
to school.  My day care was in another “town in town” apartment building, so
I had it made.

The downsides to living there were that the buildings were infested with
cockroaches, really weird and violent people lived there, and they were
noisy all the time.  But having minimal living expenses got me through
school.

There were great things right around the complex.  We had good restaurants
like The Riverside Café which was a cooperative and vegetarian – the
remnants of the hippie era.  We had Richter’s Drug for day to day stuff and
prescriptions.  There was a post office.  And a grocery store, which was
also a cooperative.  Of course, there were bars, remnants from skid row.
And the local drunks who terrified my son when he was little.

Since I’ve lived there, the “town in town” has morphed into a gathering and
living spot for western Africans - Somalis, Ethiopians, and others now
populate the area.  Some of the restaurants have been changed into western
African restaurants.  The video store has primarily western African and
Indian movies.  And the sidewalks are full of women in long veils.

We had a long break during our meeting, so I took advantage of this and
walked to where I used to live.  The West Bank is a theater district as well
and all the theaters were still there, except for Dudley Riggs’ Brave New
Workshop (comedy) – that was now a restaurant.

The grocery store – although not a cooperative anymore – was there.  Richter
’s was gone, because the building burned down, but there was another drug
store up the street.  The bank was still there.  The Asian noodle factory
was still there.  Lots of things seemed rooted to the area.

Global Village was still there.  There was an import store which was popular
before the import business became a buzz word for would be business owners.
I wandered in there and the place was just the same.  The old wooden floors
still groaned under my feet.  Incense filled the air.  They still had cotton
tie dyed clothes and exotic sculptures scattered all over.  The clerks were
different, but the same, with that hippie look, and the customers had jet
black hair and fierce looks.  Oh, what a pleasant change from the blah blah
suburbs where I live now.

I wandered around looking for the ghosts of my past.  My friends who are now
as old as I am with gray hair and bulging bellies disappeared and I looked
for our younger selves when life was so simple.  We didn’t need cars and
money and lots of stuff.  Buying a small item at Global Village was enough
to make the day special.

I bought an incense holder and some incense.  They had some unique glass and
metal candle holders so I bought one of those, too.  The prices were still
low.

I crossed the street and went into Depth of Field.  It used to sell fabric,
yarn, and pottery.  Now it just sells futons and yarn, but that was close
enough.  I bought many skeins of yarn there when I was into weaving
tapestries and wall hangings.

Finally, I went into Midwest Mountaineering.  I never went into that store
as my old self.  I didn’t have the money or the inclination to be outside
and do camping stuff.  Now my new self is fit and interested in moving my
body, so I wanted to check out the prices of their cross country skis and
snowshoes.  That stuff is on sale and it’s a good time to buy.

Then I walked back up the hill to our swanky hotel which wasn’t there when I
lived on the West Bank.  The time warp gradually disappeared and my old self
and my new self had to separate.  I said good-bye to my young self and went
into the hotel.

Margaret R. Kramer
margaretkramer at earthlink.net

http://www.polarispublications.com
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Business and Professional Women of Minnesota

Nobody has ever measured, even poets, how much a heart can hold.
~Zelda Fitzgerald