Room at the Bottom

When Eisenhower-era civic leaders drunk on urban renewal laid waste to the Gateway district, they forever altered the topography of this town's hard-luck hotels and shot-and-a-beer saloons.

I wouldn't move from here. No way. I like my room. I got my refrigerator, microwave, electric fry pan and I get all the stuff ready. And today they even got microwaveable toothpaste, I think. Fat free. I can go and come any time of the day, and I got everything I need and when I want, I'll walk over and I can go any place. I couldn't live out at the Mall of America because it takes too long to walk around.

In this day and age, you can live in Edina, you don't leave your lawn mower out in front and work in the backyard. It's gone. It's every place. It ain't just in the older neighborhoods. But here you can leave your door open, walk down, use the phone, come back, you don't have to worry about people rummaging around.

Here, you need something, just ask the neighbor. It's just like a big community center. You depend on each other and I like that because if you can't rely on your friends then you might as well just go into solitary. Because then you're not even going to trust yourself.

A guy asked me if I won the lottery, Pick Three or any of 'em. Would you move? Nope. And I don't have a phone? Nope. So they can't sell me nothing? Yup. If you wanna talk to me, you can come down to my game room.

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