I seem to be on a shop-front photo kick these days, but this one is different. Those of us who grew up in Laurel (Maryland) share a certain respect for the surreal. On a deeply subconscious level, the town "feels like" Lumberton, where the film Blue Velvet takes place, but it's more concentrated: almost urban, but not quite. Very schizophrenic. It's still a sleepy suburb with tiny pockets that haven't been touched by the scraping fingernails of time.
The photo above is Main Street, which is one of those timeless pockets. When I return for a quick nostalgia fix and walk the length of Main Street, I pause with eyes closed and detect the stubborn vapors of 1977 still hanging in the air. Those blue polyester uniform shirts from St. Mary's always made one's neck itch like the plague.
The Laurel Meat Market could always be trusted for all my one-stop shopping needs, from Gayla kites to balsa-wood gliders. I suppose "meat" was in there as well, but I never cared to look for it.