“The goal of feng shui as practiced today is to situate the human built environment on spots with good qi. The ‘perfect spot’ is a location and an axis in time.”
–Wikipedia
The new Bookmans may have lost something in the translation. When five feet of snow claimed its roof, it took a full year for the doors to reopen. I had played in the front of the old store for almost 20 years, sometime several times a month. A funky home away from home with comfortable thrift-store furniture, toilet seats that fell down at inopportune times and a great staff. I played folk and old-time tunes with a slowly moving cavalcade of musicians. Some have moved on to different locales and some into history. Monsoons boomed and northers whistled outside while I led a monthly jam session that met for 15 years.
The employees were a great mix of mix of hippies and non conformists. I trained a long series of entertainment managers to deal with the vagaries of Flagstaff musicians. One was a longhaired heavy metal aficionado I converted into a fan of old-time western swing. He watched for old LPs for me and began to listen to the Sons of the Pioneers and Marty Robbins. He was directly responsible for starting my award-winning radio program “Under Western Skies” and Bookmans’ sponsorship of it for three years.
It was a hard year for me and Flagstaff. It was as if the corner pub, the library and the community center had all shut down. More than once my vehicle turned into the parking lot of its own accord and stopped in front of the empty shell of the building. It was not unlike waking from sleepwalking. Folks around town thought I would have insider knowledge and continually asked me about the opening date of the remodeled store. I was as in the dark as everyone else, and visits to the site found little apparent progress.
Meanwhile, Bookmans kept their staff on salary. They were encouraged to volunteer at nonprofits when they weren’t working in the warehouse planning for the big day. When the doors finally opened the community turned out to see the improved store. Bright and shiny as a new penny, they had thought of everything. It was probably a time-motion study that suggested a central service and processing area that was tastefully illuminated and colorful. The new café displayed a VW size machine that brewed divine coffee and they served tasty pastries in an attractive dining area. Everything was so clean and new!
Let’s see … where I will set up to play music.
The restrooms were spacious and brightly lit and floored with cool Mediterranean tile. The walls were adorned with art prints of Waterhouse paintings of the age of chivalry. Directly over the urinal hung a large print of Guinevere and Lancelot. I twisted my neck awkwardly, and from the distance of 20 inches I examined it. Guinevere swoons from a saddle and her scarlet tresses mass like a desert storm and embrace Lancelot’s standing armor clad form. I remembered my first trip to Ireland, driving west into the setting sun along a narrow Dingle lane when I met a red-haired maiden riding a bike toward me. Her halo was back-lit by the low rays and she burned by me like a flaming haystack.
Lancelot is sporting serious heavy metal. He has doubled his weight to protect his life. His breastplate sprouts sharp nipples that would make the material girl swoon in envy. She is loosely draped in a gauzy fabric that accents her vulnerability. He looks like a silver lobster that would take hours to remove from its shell. And his crotch is smack dab in front of my face. Inches from my nose triple layers of chain mail, plate steel and padded wool cloth assure Guinevere’s chastity and my discomfort.
I meditate on continuity, and the inevitability of change, and the feng shui of cafés and bathrooms.
