Life Above the Store, Beneath the Rocks

Jana, my wife and I, co-conspirators in the creation of those two redheaded children, Kira and Grange, were lucky enough to spend the day with our friend Nancy a few weeks ago. Nancy was a lobbyist in Washington, D.C. for many years, and has had countless interesting political experiences. Since I have always been fascinated by politics, Nancy indulged me with a few stories about her experiences during the Reagan years. During our conversations, Nancy said that at the end of Reagan's second term he reminded her that he had grown up living over his father's shoe store, and went on to state that during his presidency he felt that he was once again living "over the store."


Twin Rocks Trading Post

About a week after our visit with Nancy, I walked to the cafe to get a drink of iced tea and returned to find Barry and Grange stretched out in the middle of the trading post floor playing marbles. Grange had Barry engaged and was not about to let him go. The scene reminded me of Nancy's Ronald Reagan story, and started me thinking about my life over the store. People who stop by the trading post often ask where I live. I point to the ceiling and say, "Up there." When I explain that I live on the second story of the trading post they are always surprised. Living above the store is apparently rarely done these days, although it seems to have been fairly common in the past.

When I first moved from Utah to Sacramento, California in the early 1980s, I lived downtown in a very small apartment building. On the corner was a little market with living quarters on the second story, and I always wanted to live above that store. As a result, I began wondering what it would be like to someday live above my own business.

The corner market had been built in the 1920s or 1930s, and had not changed much since its original construction. There wasn't much on the shelves, and the displays were from another era. Before I learned my way around town, I would go in to buy a variety of every day products. Part of my fascination with the market was that the people who patronized the business also seemed to be from the '20s and ‘30s.

My apartment building was populated with several old men from a variety of ethnic backgrounds who also patronized the corner market. These men had come to California during the Dust Bowl, and frequently spoke of staying in flop houses and other substandard accommodations before becoming gainfully employed. Their stories often reminded me of a Steinbeck novel. They had all been been left alone over the years for one reason or another, and therefore lived alone in the small complex of studio apartments with Murphy beds. On Sunday mornings I would sit in the courtyard by the small decorative fountain and listen to their stories about California in the early days; about the railroads and working in the fields. I think this was the beginning of my interest in culture and storytelling.

Several years later I moved back to Bluff to open the trading post. One of the things that fascinated me about the trading post was that it had an apartment on the upper level, much like the old market. Duke had designed the building to have an on-premises manager. My romantic vision of living over the business, and Barry, finally convinced me that I should at least give Bluff a try, so I moved into the apartment over the trading post, beneath the rocks, and became a citizen of Bluff.
My daily commute was a full 20 steps.

About a year after we moved to Bluff, Dacia, my daughter from my first marriage was born. Dacia began life living over the trading post, and usually came to work with me during the day. We read books and played games all day and returned upstairs at dinnertime. On one occasion when she was about three years old she and I were "manning" the trading post when a couple from Israel came in with their daughter, Noah. Dacia just happened to have a bag of potato chips that day, and Noah was very interested in those chips. While Noah's parents and I talked, Dacia and Noah sat down and began parceling out the chips. Within minutes, they were the best of friends. When it was time for Noah's family to leave, I thought the two little girls were going to cry. I remember Dacia waving from the porch, and Noah's face pasted to the back window of the Volkswagen van just like a movie scene. Dacia had experienced what I most enjoy about the trading post; meeting and talking with new and interesting people from all over the world.

Jana, who is also from a trading family, and I met a few years later. Jana and I married and a year later Kira arrived. From the time Kira was just a few days old she and I braved the traffic on those 20 steps to the trading post. She would recline in her baby bouncer on my desk or on the back counter. As she grew, she progressed from being carried around the shop on my chest in a Snugglie, to being packed in a back pack and finally to running around the trading post terrorizing everyone and everything. I became convinced that Kira was going to become a terrorist, and I was the one being terrorized. Luckily she has finally progressed beyond that stage and says she wants to be an astronaut.

By the time she was two, Kira had gotten into the habit of coming down to the trading post to play children's games on my computer. One day I was sitting in my office with my friend Marx when Kira came in, jumped into my lap and asked me to start her game. Since Marx is very patient and understanding, I put in the disk and Kira began playing. A short time later she jumped down and ran around the corner to the restroom. After a few minutes she came shuffling back into my office with her tights down around her ankles and her pink behind radiating, obviously needing a little help getting herself back together. My face began radiating - red.


Grange and Kira in front of Twin Rocks Trading Post

Now that Kira and Grange are older, they wander down from the house and in and out of the trading post as they please. They are as free as the wind. Grange has become seduced by the Starburst candies Barry keeps in his desk. He tries to sneak into the trading post, open Barry's drawer and get the candy before Barry and I see him. Jana and I have warned and threatened Barry not to keep candy in his desk. We have even pried open Grange’s mouth and shown Barry the small cavity Grange has on his tooth, but Barry has not heeded our warnings. When I catch him before he reaches his goal, Grange pleads, "Please Dad, just one," and crookedly holds up one of his little fingers. Barry gets a dirty look, Grange gets the candy and the dentist is assured additional work.

Although there are times when it is impossible to tell whether this is a trading post or day care center, living above the trading post has been very satisfying. Jana and I have been planning our home for some time now, so this phase of trading post life may be coming to an end. I have gotten used to the commute and will miss it when things change.

Copyright©2002 Twin Rocks Trading Post