Showing posts with label recession. Show all posts
Showing posts with label recession. Show all posts

Friday, January 14, 2011

The Recession Hits Home


Dear George,

Recently, for the fun of it, I made a list of places I frequent most often. Our house, of course, was number one. Number two was Keller’s IGA which is three blocks down the street from us on Ludlow Avenue. When my parents-in-law, Helen and Buck, moved to Cincinnati and took an apartment on Bryant St., Buck would make a daily trek to Kellers to pick up a half-pint of cream or a dozen eggs. It got him out of the apartment, provided a little exercise, and added a sense of purpose to his daily routine. I find myself doing the same thing. I go to Kellers just about every day, and I like to buy our groceries in quantities of three or four items per trip. Kellers is the mainstay of the community. It not only provides Cliftonites with their life essentials, but the personnel are friendly and it’s sort of a gathering place for the neighborhood. There’s no other location where you’re so likely to run into persons you know, or even just see familiar strangers.


You can imagine my dismay when a friend called twelve days ago to tell us that Kellers had been shut down. The story soon hit the news. Keller’s was $136,000 in arrears in its taxes, and the county commissioners had padlocked the door. Revenues had dropped 8 or 9% in the past two years due to competition with mega-grocery stores as well as shoppers shifting to less expensive generic products. We hoped that the closing would be for two or three days, but nearly two weeks have gone by. A printed notice from the management on the front door says they’d tried to negotiate a plan for repayment with the state, but the deal had fallen through.


Keller’s mostly empty parking lot


Our neighborhood without a grocery store is hard to imagine. All neighborhoods need a grocery store. Its potential loss makes Clifton a less desirable place to live, and, as the biggest draw to the business section, the store’s departure would harm all the adjoining businesses. Even the panhandlers who have clustered around Kellers high-traffic entrance for years must be feeling a severe pinch. There’s a Kroger superstore a mile and a half away, but the many elderly persons and students in the neighborhood don’t have transportation available, and there’s not even a bus line that goes there. Plus the biggest building in our business district is sitting there dark and closed, a symbol of community loss and decline.


For the most part, the recession for us has been something abstract we’ve read about each day in the newspaper, but now its consequences stare us directly in the eye. We desperately hope that Kellers will reopen. But each day that goes by gets us more nervous about its prospects.

Love,

Dave

G-Mail Comments

-Vicki L (1-15): Hi David, At first I thought these were old pics from Menominee - our very own IGA story (Nieman's?).... and then along came Angeli's. My neighborhood market which is also a very social spot may go under because Whole Foods Market has moved into the territory along with a newly expanded Staff of Life....both of which have more to offer than Shopper's except for meeting friends. Alas, sorry for your loss. I briefly fantasized you investing your savings in Keller's - it could become a version of L**** Drugs ... the doggies could hang out there and greet the happy customers. Why build a portfolio when you can offer a half barrel of kosher pickles?... Love, Vicki

Sunday, May 31, 2009

My Last Free Bus Ride

                                  The Number 17 Bus at Our Corner

Dear George,

 

Perhaps two years ago the University negotiated an arrangement whereby all students, faculty, and staff could have free Metro bus rides 24 hours a day, seven days a week to wherever they wanted to go.  Can you believe it?  It was like a miracle --  an unexpected and unlikely gift that had fallen from heaven.  I began to ride the bus a lot and enjoyed a pleasant feeling of being blessed (even though the poor people, who constitute the vast majority of bus riders in Cincinnati, often gave me hostile looks when they realized I was boarding with a free pass).

 

As my retirement drew near, I got nervous about the fate of my new privilege, and I was very relieved to learn that emeriti faculty were included in the free bus ride package.  But then the sky fell in.  In December the University announced that it had renegotiated the contract and that bus users would now have to pay a quarterly fee ($10 for students, $50 for faculty and staff).  Frankly, my bus trips aren’t frequent enough to warrant $50, and that is hardly free in any case.  I disconsolately faced the end of my free rides and, in my view, the end of my recently resurgent optimism about life itself.

 

My last free ride was a few weeks ago.  I’d planned a special last-day trip downtown, but other things intervened, and I used it instead to catch a ride to the University to commemorate administrative secretary Cheryl’s final day in the department.  While I know I can probably afford the dollar fifty every now and then, I’m very gloomy about my loss.  Essentially, I feel that I’ve been deprived of the last free ride I’ll ever see.   Though getting a free ride seemed ridiculous just a few months ago, its elimination now strikes me as a gross miscarriage of justice.  Everything in our lives these days seems like an offshoot of a financial Armageddon.  Retirement funds have evaporated, social security faces collapse, health care costs continue to escalate wildly. Many of our seventysomething retired friends are considering returning to work, and their financial advisors are grimly encouraging them to do so.  Katja and I have switched to a weaker health insurance plan and our out-of-pocket medical costs have zoomed up. We paid thirteen hundred dollars last month to the Chevy dealer because our SUV gas tank pipeline was broken (apparently because I tried to jam a non-fitting diesel gasoline nozzle into it), and we have had to spend several thousands to fix interior wall damage from a leaky slate roof. All of these disasters, major and minor, have become consolidated in my mind in the form of a single calamity -- the end of free bus rides.  That free pass was a tiny beacon of light in the bleak financial wilderness, an unexpected gift from the impersonal mega-bureaucracy that suggested that existence still offered some tiny but bonafide beneficence.

 

So I’ve stewed and complained and moaned and groaned, but all to no avail.  The other day I was riding in the elevator in Crosley Tower.  When it stopped at the 12th floor,, I noticed a new sculpted plaque for the Economics Department which identified its presence with a fancy UC logo and ended with a quote from Milton Friedman:  “There’s no such thing as a free lunch.”  I thought about that for the rest of the day (and beyond).  It had an undeniable truth value. So now I’m trying to come to terms with actually paying for my occasional bus rides.  I have to – it’s a matter of economic reality.

 

 

Love,

Dave