You don't know what it's got 'til you're gone

It takes me 3 minutes to walk to work. Not 3 minutes and 10 seconds, not 3 or 4 minutes. It takes 3 minutes. I've timed it. Like I always say, we are our parents' children. My dad is a retired 3M engineer. It will not shock my mother to read that I've timed my walk to work (as well as variations on the drive to work, to find the most consistently fast way to get here). I put a picture display at the bottom of this post.

It's easy to take the walk for granted. Usually, I'm thinking about going to Dunkin' Donuts for a decaf coffee or getting a bowl of soup (Sidenote: Lookout for a blog on fun business names. This place is called "Karmasouptra"). Rarely am I paying attention to all the cool stuff along the walk. Recently, kitty corner from where I work, I discovered a little plaque.

Newspapers rule!

It's easy to miss. The granite slab can't be more than 12 inches square and 3 and a half feet tall. It commemorates an African-American who distributed anti-slavery newspapers from his taxi stand. There's more. Portland was a part of the Underground Railroad for slaves.

What? It's true.

I don't point this out to talk about how great this is. I have never seen anybody reading one of these plaques. It's really just our cheap attempt to copy a little town down the road. But it's kinda cool, right? And then I started looking around.

Here's what you see on my three-minute walk to work. The Federal Courthouse, which looks like it could kick everybody's ass. The old, touristy street, chock-full of locally owned shops. It's fun to just walk down it. Unless you're trying to drive down it. That's not fun. A cool old church that sits directly in front of Portland High School (which is smack-dab in the middle of downtown). And, of course, a lighthouse.

What, no lobster?

Everywhere I've lived, I do this. In New Hampshire and Vermont, it was the stunning natural beauty and fun, lively local arts scenes. In Florida, it was South Beach. In Duluth, it was the Olive Garden, I guess. There were two-hour lines to get in there when it opened. In Utah, it was the mountains. Everywhere I go, I take the good stuff for granted. No real point to that. I'll get back to more light-hearted fare tomorrow. Perhaps it will be a dog-related post. I'll time how long it takes me to walk her along the beach.

Here's a look at the walk:

City Hall! There's a ship on top that shows wind direction, which I think is neat. I am, after all, my father's son.

No lobster?

The top of the tourist district, with the courthouse threatening to kick some ass in the background.