Strip Mall

There is a strip mall behind the house where I grew up in a neighborhood made up of mostly original owners. My folks still live in that house and many, but certainly not all, of those neighbors have passed away in the past decade.

I remember being a kid and riding my bike around the corner to a discount bakery that sold Suzy-Q's, Ding Dongs and all other manner of sugar-loaded debauchery. It's long gone, but unfortunately my gut is still paying rent.

I remember getting my hairs cut at a legitimate barber shop by a friendly fellow named Augie. The shop is still open and on the occasion that I stop in for a little off the top, he asks if I'm there for my wedding haircut. I think by now he knows I'm not, but he asks. He talks about someday retiring, but he can't put down his scissors and clippers completely until he does the matrimonial hairdo he's promised me. Hopefully I'll still have hair at that point.

True to form, businesses have come and gone in the past twenty odd years and the face of the shopping center, much like that of the adjacent neighborhood, has changed too.

These days, for the most part, the strip mall has been transformed into a mega-church and that makes the scene I photographed in a window on the backside of the building that much more intriguing. And bizarre.

Perhaps they are praising His name. Or maybe vying for some beads from Ken and the gang.