Today was a funny day. At the Lincoln Home, we have been planning for our "Safe Trick-or-Treat" event at the end of October. Today my assignment was to obtain an application from the city of Springfield to get a permit to close down Edwards Street (which runs along the south end of the park) on October 30 so that the kids can cross the street there without having to worry about traffic. Unfortunately obtaining said permit requires one to get signatures from 80% of the residents living along the street, saying that they don't mind if the street is closed. That would be okay--if the street you're wanting to close isn't the
GHETTO! I told my boss that I didn't want to go soliciting signatures by myself, so they sent Ranger Matt with me--which I ended up being very grateful for. It was okay when we were on the nice end of the street--there's a bed & breakfast, a law office, and a restaurant there. All of those people were happy to sign our form. But then we got to the shady end of the street. There is an apartment building there, and we had to try to get signatures from all of the tenants. When we opened the door to the building, the putrid smell almost knocked us over. We tried holding our breath and running around to the different apartments, but no one would open their door. Finally a BIG black guy opened the door, but he really "didn't" live there--he was just visiting his brother who wasn't home. We also had a crazy white guy open the door, but he refused to sign anything (I think he thought we were the police). So we got zero signatures from the apartments, and then there was one other really dilapidated house along the street from which we got no response. (There are also a couple of vacant, run-down houses on the street.) We returned to the park with only three signatures--but I told Mike that I was resigning from signature duty because I never want to return to that apartment building . . . ever!!!
Just as I was thinking about how funny it was that in Springfield you can go from pristine National Park to Ghetto Land in about ten steps, I looked up and saw a strange car(s) driving down the road. It was a car made out of a half of two different cars--
duct taped together in the middle. (Safety hazard?) The front was bright yellow, and the black was brown. I had to pinch myself to make sure that I wasn't in some kind of messed-up dream. :-) It was really funny. Springfield, Illinois is a strange place. I wonder what Abraham Lincoln would think if he could see his hometown today.