Was it worth it? *ONE TINY STAR for the 50s brick ranch by Daffin Park
Laura Jean: For our readers at home, where is Washington Avenue?
Me: In Savannah, Georgia between the Ardsley Park neighborhood and Parkside neighborhood.
LJ: That sounds really quaint.
Me: It is really fucking quaint. If Steve Martin had a daughter and she was getting married, he would live in one of the revival-everything houses on Washington Avenue’s oak-lined street.
LJ: So the houses look like the house in the 1991 reboot of Father of the Bride, starring Steve Martin, Diane Keaton, Kimberly Williams-Paisley and Martin Short?
Me: Yes, and like Tara from Gone with the Wind and that brick colonial number in Little Women and the Victorian in Disney’s Pollyanna.
LJ: You seem to be a connoisseur of movie architecture.
Me: Look, I’m just trying to make it clear what we’re dealing with. Washington Avenue is not some namby-pamby bastion of California hill country midcentury modern Frank Lloyd Wright wannabe ranches. We’re talking sidewalks, a goddamn median of azaleas, and moss-draped oaks. It’s like a museum of Long Island housewives’ Southern fantasies.
LJ: So what’s wrong with their Christmas Decorations?
Me: The street is fucking dark. We’re two weeks into Advent and the best anyone can do is a picture window Christmas tree and some electric candles on the second floor. Thank god for the 50s style ranch by Daffin Park with one string of lights on their hedges because otherwise, you’d think these people give zero fucks about the birthday of our LORD AND SAVIOR JESUS CHRIST.
LJ: Now hold on, a lot of people don’t believe in Jesus.
Me: THAT’S NOT THE POINT. One month ago this street was lined with TRUMP/PENCE signs, okay? So, I expect some motherfucking Christmas lights. If I have to live near you richo-fascist-pseudoChristian-fucks, the least you can do is pretty up the place with some goddamn holiday spirit.
LJ: You seem really passionate about this.
Me: All I’m saying is that if these one percenters don’t realize their good fortune isn’t some insulating force from the responsibilities of government and community building, and learn quick that the truth is quite the opposite—they’re going to have a revolution on their hands.
LJ: With great power, comes great responsibility.
Me: I see you’ve read your Spider-Man.
LJ: Little known fact, that’s actually a modification of a Bible verse: Luke 12:48.
Me: Yeah, I know. My mother quoted that to me nearly every day of my teenage life.
LJ: Alrighty, then. If you could say one thing to the residents of Washington Avenue, what would it be?
Me: It’s called noblesse oblige, motherfuckers. Get some.
Laura Jean Moore’s essays, stories, and poetry have been featured in VICE, the Brooklyn Rail, [PANK], the EEEL at the Los Angeles Review of Books, and elsewhere. She is currently a monthly columnist at Change Seven and an assistant editor at NOON. These days, she lives in Savannah, Georgia with two cats, an old lady, and her sweetheart. Follow the LJ Algorithm and other stuff she’s up to at laurajeanmoore.com.