You'd Think They Might Know

So there I am, driving down the only worthwhile street in the borough of Parsons, a remote section of Wilkes-Barre. I guess it has more than twenty streets, most of them short, and the only two which matter are George Street (the aforementioned only worthwhile street) and Austin Avenue, a far second which, at least, comes out to the main drag which passes by on the north end of “town.”

I’m headed to Austin Avenue and I’ve a pretty good idea of where it is, but just to be safe I roll down my window and ask a lady who is walking by across the street.

She isn’t sure. “Up the street a few blocks and to the left, I think.” Not much help there.

I go further and there is some old coot sitting on a bench; I’ve hit pay dirt this time. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s over there,” he says, pointing somewhat leftward.

So I go to the end, take the left I think is the way and two (2) blocks over is Austin Avenue. Two blocks and neither person knew where it was. How can you not know when it’s that close and there just aren’t that many streets?

On the West Side, the boroughs melt into each other without much in the way of signs telling you where you are. Yet, the residents can tell you to the inch which is which. You hear a street name (Charles) and anyone knows it’s Luzerne. But in a small burg like Parsons … I don’t know.