An Oasis of Sugar and Flour

Try to start a snow blower, weed whacker, or any other two-cycle engine and soon you will hear the beating heart madness of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tell-Tale Heart rip through your very being.

These are machines designed to take the snow shovel or grass clippers out of your hands, so you have more time to enjoy a life of leisure and play.

Maybe.

Fail to get just the right mixture of gas and oil and you will be pulling that chord until your arm and shoulder require Tommy John surgery for pitchers.

There is a reason why two-cycle is also known as two-stroke.  Sooner or later you are going to earn a ticket on an ambulance, if you cannot mix the gas and oil with the skill of a Madame Curie.

On my way home, after a frustrating two hours of trying to find a shop that carried the 50:1 cure-all Texas Tea (note to self, just go to the store where you bought the snow blower in the first place) and mixing it in the red container at the gas station, I saw that wonderful green ball labeled HOT connected to the Long’s Bakery sign.

It is right and just, I thought, to feed myself a sweet after enduring this two-cycle hassle. Long’s has yeast donuts with enough sugar for a lifetime and one bite puts all your troubles away for a few moments.

As I entered, the surroundings looked different this time, maybe for the first time since 1955 when Carl Long first opened the doors to his famous glazed donuts and cinnamon fry treats.

The green and white tile was either replaced or maybe scrubbed with a sandblaster.  Perhaps the tiles shined due to enough new lights to power a network television studio. I also noticed several new security cameras, almost as many as you would find at a local bank branch.  And why not?  These donuts have more value than our currency these days.

Gone was the old plaque showing Mr. Long in his three-piece suit. It was always an odd picture.  Shouldn’t he be wearing a baker’s outfit holding a large tray of his donuts enticing you to buy a dozen?  Richard Nixon walking along the beach in his wingtips always came to mind when I shuffled past the portrait.

One note of disappointment though was a certain missing sign behind the counter.  It was a notice to all customers.  I may not have the words exactly right, but it went something like this:

“Anyone who cusses or yells at our employees will not be served!”

It’s probably not a sign you will find in any of the stores along the Magnificent Mile in Chicago.

Many of Long’s customers work with their hands and wear Carhartt.  Very few are whipping out iPhones with three Twitter apps (two free, one paid, I know, I know, I am so doomed).

As you stand in line with 20 people (I have never seen lines like that at Dunkin’), most people have their eyes focused on those glass cases filled with glazed, fried, cake, cinnamon, and twisted donuts along with birthday cakes and cookies. Kids lean against the glass pointing at each donut for their parents to buy.

Long’s ladies pack the goodies in those white bakery boxes and only take cash in exchange. Everyone leaves with a smile in anticipation of escaping the annoyances of life and maybe chewing on the same baked goods they had as a child when time always seemed simpler with sure answers and few questions.

I don’t know if that green ball HOT light is lit when donuts are fresh out of the oven, but at the corner of 16th Street and Tremont, it is to that neighborhood what a certain glowing green light was to Jay Gatsby.  Hope for a better day.