Recession Hymn: I Own the Store…by Robert M. Katzman

Filed under: Depression and Hope,Gritty Katzman Chicago Stories,My Own Personal Hell,Philosophy,Poetry & Prose,Rage!,Retail Purgatory — Bob at 11:42 am on Wednesday, March 11, 2009

I’m that guy

You pass my windows

But

You don’t know me

I’m that guy

Been there Forever

I own the store

Maybe some dust in

The corner of my

Window display

Maybe some Yellowed tape

Still on a Window

From an old sign I

Didn’t get around to

Peeling off

And I wait

I’m that guy

I own the Store

I’m there

Every-Single-Day

Under buzzing

Fluorescent lights

Classical music softly playing

But not too distracting

Temperature inside of

My store is as low as

I can keep it

In Winter

To keep my damned

Gas Bill from

Soaring

You drive by

You walk by

You skate by

You peddle by

Even drunk

You stagger by

Cell phones to your ears

You may barely notice

My ancient Retail Face

Expectantly and Endlessly

Searching the Empty Streets

Outside of my Door

Watching

The Parade which

Rarely stops

I’m that guy

I own the Store

What do I sell?

I have what you need

If only

You’ll just stop

I design New Displays

Adjust something an inch

This way or that

Dreaming that it matters

Pretending my

Creative Imagination will

Save the Day

The Postman

Briskly crashes

Through my door

Chimes clanging thrusting

More bills at me

He doesn’t see me

He’s on the phone

I am invisible

ComEd

Knows

Where I am

AT&T

Knows

Where I am

Peoples Gas

Knows

Where I am

The

The State and Federal Tax People

Know

Where I am

Door-to-Door salesmen

Know

Where I am

The Roofing Guy

Who Endlessly Repairs

My Never-Ending

Dripping ceiling leaks

Knows

Where I am

State Farm Insurance

Knows

Where I am

After twenty years of

Peering out of my

Store’s broad Windows

Filled with hope and

Surrounded by so many things

You really need

How can it be that

Nobody else

knows

Where I am

anymore?

I’m that guy

I own the Store

I Wait

Not on the Internet

Not Virtual

Not some disembodied

Mechanical Voice

Demanding

and

Commanding

That you press yet

Another button

to reach an

Actual Human

who just might

Listen to you

I’m really here

Waiting

Come to my Store

Walk all around

See the beautiful things

I offer

Where are you?

I keep looking for you

Customers

Voices

Hope

People

Don’t you know

I have Exactly

What you need?

Don’t you know

How Happy you will be

When you come

Inside of my store?

Why do you take

So long to

Open my door?

Don’t you know

I’m waiting

Just for you?

I’m that guy

I own the Store

I’m fading away

Into the past

I’m nearly gone

Open my door

Make those

Silver Chimes ring

One more time

Before I too am dust

Before I too

Become only virtual

I’m that guy

I own the Store

Don’t wait too long

(Five months and three weeks later in August 2016

My beautiful store in Morton Grove closed,

After twenty years)

Publishing News!

Bob Katzman’s two new true Chicago books are now for sale, from him!
Vol. One: A Savage Heart andÂVol. Two: Fighting Words

Gritty, violent, friendship, classic American entrepreneurship love, death, heartbreak and the real dirt about surviving in a completely corrupt major city under the Chicago Machine. More history and about one man’s life than a person may imagine.

Please visit my new website: https://www.dontgoquietlypress.com
If a person doesn’t want to use PayPaI, I also have a PO Box & I ship anywhere in America.

Send me a money order with your return and contact info.
I will get your books to you within ten days.
Here’s complete information on how to buy my books:

Vol 1: A Savage Heart and Vol. 2: Fighting Words
My books weigh almost 2 pounds each, with about 525 pages each and there are a total together of 79 stories and story/poems.

Robert M. Katzman
Donâ€™t Go Quietly Press
PO Box 44287
Racine, Wis. 53404-9998 (262)752-3333, 8AM–7PM

Books cost $29.95 each, plus shipping

For: (1)$3.95; (2)$5.95; (3)$7.95; (4)$8.95 (5)$9.95;(6) $10.95

(7) $11.95; (8) $12.95; (9)$13.95 (10)$15.95 (15)$19.95

Shipping by air to most of Europe, due to the weight of my books is $99.00

I am also for hire if anyone wants me to read my work and answer questions in the Chicago/Milwaukee area. Schools should call me for quantity discounts for 30 or more books. Also: businesses, bookstores, private organizations or churches and so on.

My Fighting Words Publishing Co. four original books, published between 2004 and 2007 are now out-of-print. I still have some left and will periodically offer them for sale on my new website.Â My hour-long story reading at WGTD 91.1 NPR Kenosha, Wis is now a podcast. The interview and story can be heard here:

Speaking of Our Words June 30th, 2017Â With special guest star and featured writer Bob Katzman. Bob reads his memoir, “Audrey, Pink Bunny Slippers, Her Cat and the God’s Eye” and talks about his wife. Your comments are welcome, below, and please tell others I can be found here as a writer. I can also be hired as a speaker for organizations, etc, both here and in Europe. Seeking an agent.robertmkatzman@gmail.com Poet & Storyteller for hire for organizations, schools or private events www.DifferentSlants.com to view recent and older examples of my work

Preview YouTube video Speaking of Our Words June 30th, 2017

Speaking of Our Words June 30th, 2017Â

Comments (6)

6 Comments »

16532

Comment by Don Larson

March 11, 2009 @ 8:23 pm

Hi Bob,

It seems to me that your poem represents not only your own story, but almost every brick-and-mortar storefront owner.

When you owned a newsstand, you were right there on the street where people passed right by where you were positioned. Now you are behind the glass, out-of-sight.

Maybe part of the time you should be outside when people are out and about? Invite them in for some hot coffee and one of your short stories.

Don

16533

Comment by Bob Katzman

March 12, 2009 @ 10:34 am

Don,
Your comment is romantic, and appealing, but I already tried your suggestion in the last, and twentieth, year of Bob’s Newsstand.

Each morning, in what became the most sensual part of my day, I’d rip open an aluminum package of coffee, inhale the rich aroma, and then I’d make a hot pot of coffee. I don’t think I ever actually sold a single cup, but I went through the ritual anyway. It gave me something to do.

But Don, unlike the buffalo or the dinosaurs, I know what’s coming.

I call it The Great Void where people like me with institutional and neighborhood memory are swept from the field and we all disappear. Where? I don’t know where, or I wouldn’t call it a Void.

My dream is to be the poet of those people, and find a life traveling around America or whatever place will have me, and tell people about the world that used-to-be. I have no home to be foreclosed and no stocks to plummet in value. But I do still have about 1,500 pages (six books) of stories and poems to read to people who want to listen.

But, it may also go the way of the cups of coffee I never sold. One night, July 29, 1985 to be exact, I turned off the lights for the last time, took the few dollars out of the cash register and put them in my pocket, dumped the spare change in a paper bag, looked around one more time after two decades of working on that specific spot on the planet, locked the door behind me–one last time–and walked away, into the unknown. I was thirty-five.

Now I’m fifty-eight. And now there’s another twenty-year old store it’s time for me to leave. What’s waiting for me outside that door? I don’t know, Don. I really don’t know.

I wrote the “I Own the Store” poem to be something that would represent the pain (and rage) of all obsolete store-keepers like me. That’s why I never identified a specific product I was offering for sale. It just didn’t matter. The pain of our loss of our sense of identity in society, is universal.

I’m just the poet. I sing the song. I hope someone is listening. I really do.

See you, Don.

Bob

16534

Comment by Bruce H, Matteson

March 13, 2009 @ 6:28 am

We humans are notoriously short sighted. We are caught up in the moment and don’t see the clock. Things aren’t getting better; just faster. But weeds grow in the cracks of the cement that covered up the field.

Long after the structure that destroyed the beautiful patch of earth has decayed, nature will reclaim its own. Long after corporate cookie cutter enterprise is gone, small businesses will be selling us our daily fare. Its a better way.More satisfying. You’ll see.

You’ll be dead, but you’ll see.

16535

Comment by Bob

March 13, 2009 @ 9:15 am

Comforting, Bruce, truly.

Bob

16738

Comment by Joe Brunory

May 29, 2009 @ 12:45 pm

Hey Bob, met you at Charlie’s reading last Tuesday. This is a great poem and thanks for inviting me to your blog. I must have met you years ago as I did shop your store a few times when I had more business in Skokie. Now, I’m always south (Palos Hills) but hope to make it back in. Hang in! Joe

16739

Comment by Bob Katzman

May 29, 2009 @ 1:47 pm

Thanks for writing to me, Joe.

I go to Charlie’s with my friend Bruce every so often, in an effort to widen the number of people who know me as a writer and not as a store owner.

I’m glad you liked what you read. I have 4 books in print: http://www.FightingWordsPubco.com in case you want any. I ship them anywhere and everywhere. If you want to order a book, just call the number on my card, or (847)274–1474 There are also many stories on the blog too, which you can read for free.

If you are pleased, please tell others about this site and my stories. Thank,Joe.

See you.

Bob

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