Rainy Ponderings

Irish flags weighted down by the rain, ducks taking advantage of the river in the parking lot, waddling together and swimming, silent train, with its single headlight shining in the gloom, waiting for its next goup of passengers ready to drip the days downpour all over its carpets and seats, tiny beads of rain on the cafe windows and gentle laughter somewhere over my shoulder. Ipads and computer screens throwing soft light on nearby faces. Me, sitting in the corner, pin in hand, trying vehemently to appear busy and not lonely, on this rainy Monday.
Looking around I can see in my mind, how much this downtown has changed. Parks and ballfields replaced with retail stores. Smokey diners replaced by Starbucks. Dingy motels with kitchenettes replaced by the Hilton with its balconies and 10 pillows on each bed, full of feathers. A place that tourists were rarely told about, a place where locals could still feel at home in a flood of strangers -- now hawked in shiny brochures at every gas station and mall -- the new pride of Branson.
The rain pours and still they flock to the doors of every shop, umbrellas dripping on their designer cowboy boots.
They know nothing of the shopgirls, the dancers, and the waitress' who go home at night, bound by the aching feet and the chore of turning off the smile that has taken over the facial muscles and has become painful. They undergo the ritual of straightening tight muscles -- and they will get up in the morning and do it all over again -- for those that come to our city to be entertained everywhere they go.