My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

I put a call out for ideas last week and Ken offered to write a story for me about New Hampshire. I asked if he could check in on Darlene’s, an old favorite sub shop and one of the few that hasn’t been lost to progress. Here’s what he had to say…

photo and story by K.C. Hawkins

I stopped in at Darlene’s to get some lunch. There was a man in his early fifties sitting down to the left wearing suspenders and rubbing his beard. If I took a guess, I would say that he was tired. If I took another guess I’d say he was a carpenter because of the fine sawdust that was trapped in his hairy arms. I wanted to sit down and ask him why he wasn’t getting a $23 dollar chocolate caramel mocha cinnamon latte croissant at Starbucks. The one that just went in the Pizza Hut on Woodbury Avenue…I guess some people are happy with the way things are.

The same old oven to cook pies and toast subs was standing tall. Darlene wasn’t there but there was the girl we call “Service with a Smile”. I remember her from high school when I went back. I think she was in band or choir. I was 21 when I graduated. I’m no dummy. I went to high school for seven years. It’s scary when you think about dating one of the lunch ladies.

The cook on duty, Lonnie, she wasn’t smiling, she sternly said “Hello”. You never want to make a cook mad, especially when they have your lunch in their hands. They have a lot of choices here up on the plastic menu. American Chop Suey, meatball sub, calzones…my mind starts arguing with my nose and my stomach. I chose pizza – it looks so appealing when it is under the heat-lamp in the small display case. The grease reflects the light and sends a message to my salivary glands and in order to make it stop I jam the slice in my mouth burning the roof of my pallet and getting the burnt skin confused with the cheese.

Todd, a motorcycle mechanic from town, says he eats there about 3 times a month. His favorite sub is steak, egg and cheese. He’s been going there since 1987. I asked him if much has changed with the place.

He said, “No, just the prices…probably to pay for the brand new Cherokee she has.”

I think you should never change something that works, that’s why Darlene’s is so consistently busy. Alongside the sub shop is a Grecian Salon, old ladies go in with their hair flat, and come out looking like Marge Simpson, but that place is just as busy. It’s a testament to tradition. Sometimes people have a hard time welcoming change. How can you truly cherish tradition if you have your legs open to change all the time. Huh? Nevermind

As fast as I eat the slice Cookie Cutter Condos are being assembled around town dressed with shiny copper lanterns that will turn green in little as a year. I was thinking of Lyle’s comment about where the old Portsmouth went. I was saddened by this thought. It seems like yesterday we were all ramping up for the weekend, egging, hanging out on the apple farm waiting till it closed to ask Drunk Jerry to buy beer for us then drinking under the bridge, throwing perfect rolls of toilet paper up in the trees to add color to the boring lives we thought we had. I miss the stench of Pabst soaked into the carpet in the Elvis Room. I miss the knockout fights at Gilley’s and the cheap conversations had by all.

I was told by Mr. Celli that the chimney I had taken down in the Olde Mill Fish market had to go back up because the Historic District Committee attorneys said it needed to be preserved. I hope they settle for a plywood facade with New England BrickMaster tiles. I wish the HDC could preserve the whole town as it once was, with less people less government. When the Hysterical District Committee approved the Hilton Hotel there was a stipulation stating that the structure could not exceed the height of the parking garage and it now towers over the Hanover street location. It is all about revenue.

The parking meters are no longer in the view of the fading Wyland Whales mural. Now you buy time from a debit/credit slot machine. You have to go to the kiosk, buy time, walk back to your car and display the ticket on your dash. No more leaving your window cracked when it is hot or a breeze will knock it off and you’ll get fined. I’m not sure if the city wanted to kill the labor of collecting the coins or they were tired of people sliding in the parking spot on someone else’s time.

Last summer I was at the Gas Light (outside) and I saw this woman dancing to the bands lucky music. I overheard the doorman say, “I am sorry ma’am but we don’t allow dancing.” He mumbled something about not having a license or a designated dance floor. Art galleries are gone and so is the raw live entertainment…now we have drum machines with rounded chords being strummed by the numb has been. Not sure what the next step for Portsmouth is. Hopefully the city won’t put their hand over the last 5 letters of our town.