Lee Geiger

Now Main Street’s whitewashed windows and vacant stores
Seems like there ain’t nobody wants to come down here no more
They’re closing down the textile mill across the railroad tracks
Foreman says “These jobs are going, boys
And they ain’t coming back
To your hometown.

Bruce Springsteen, “My Hometown” (1985)

• Mask– To cover my mouth/nose/beard. A good friend of The Pretty Blonde’s made this really cool blue-speckled one for me. It once had a tiny ceramic ladybug in the upper left corner to remind me which side was to go against my skin, but it’s gone now. I think I may have swallowed it.
• Sunglasses– To hide my eyes, because right now the last thing I want to do is make eye contact with another human being. Plus, it allows me to discretely give the evil eye to the clueless moron pushing their cart the wrong way down the frozen pizza aisle.
• Hoodie– Matches well with my sunglasses. Makes me look like the old Unabomber sketch.
• Headphones– Nothing prepares me for the dystopia of slim pickings on half-empty shelves than listening the Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon.” I also don’t want to talk to anyone while waiting in line to get into the store. This being Moraga, a MAGA hat can do the trick as well.
• Grocery list– A waste of completely good paper. Bread and water are now considered impulse items.

Here’s the thing—I used to really enjoy going to the local Safeway. I walked in, put my head on a swivel and looked to engage with my friends and neighbors. “How are the kids doing?” —“Been anywhere interesting lately?” —“Yes, we do need to get together for dinner sometime.” Not so much anymore. I just want to sneak in, sneak out, and return to my foxhole.

I worry a lot about what my little town will look like a year from now. Two shopping centers frame the north and south poles of Moraga. Both were built during the 1970’s and, like Keith Richards, they’re barely standing and have not aged well. A renovative facelift wouldn’t hurt but tearing down and starting over isn’t a bad idea, either. That’s tough to do, though, when local sales tax revenues are forecasted to fall off a cliff faster than this season’s win total for the Golden State Warriors.

The vacancy rate at the Rheem Shopping Center, nearest to my neighborhood of Campolindo, stands at around 50% on a good day, and it’s been that way for what seems like forever. Pretty remarkable for a community considered by many to be “affluent.” Two stark, stand-alone edifices taking up space in the parking lot entered the witness protection program years ago, and their prospects for garnering a lease in the near or distant future are about the same as me being hired as George Clooney’s stand-in.

The townsfolk raised a stink when a sinkhole near the Rheem Center appeared in 2017 and stuck around for almost two years. Heck, it became Moraga’s one and only tourist attraction. Local school children even gave the gaping eyesore a name (Sinky the sinkhole…get it?). It only got fixed after the Feds finally chipped in and wrote a check for repairs. Can that happen now, after the national debt skyrockets to new heights? Doubtful. But ugly is as ugly does, and after a while people get used to looking at things they never thought they’d have to look at. Case in point–last year, eyebrows were barely raised after a second sinkhole cratered less than a hundred yards away from the original. Just another beautiful day in the neighborhood.

Look, Moraga is a great community, and I’m lucky to call it home. All I’m saying is we better get used to potholes. Especially the ones that are the size of house lots.

It’s not so much that things in Moraga are going to get bad; it’s just that “better” won’t be in the equation for a long, long time. Moraga is a soccer mom and minivan town, and the Mayberry vibe won’t percolate if every youth sports activity is cancelled. Or if the three local elementary schools turn into makeshift prisons. Campolindo High School has recently risen to the top of the local sports scene, and empty pools and barren fields are not going to do a lot for property values. Or to keep feisty teenagers, who already jokingly refer to their hometown as “Bore-aga,” at bay. Heaven help us if they ever get bored playing video games.

That’s all for now. I’ve got to gear up for a trip to CVS. The grapevine says they just received a new shipment of toilet paper, and I’ve got to get in while the going’s good. Plus, their new “seniors-only” hour is calling my name.