The pawn shop has three balls as its mercantile symbol and nobody, apparently and amazingly, knows from whence this icon through the Ages emanates.
If You Google, and who on a daily basis does not, you might glean that pawnbrokers the world over have a saying.
Two to one, you won't get your stuff back.
This is pawnshop humour.
Yours Truly, as is a theme of late, made images of Brown's Pawn Shop on Seneca Street, a mere stone's throw from that green and red baseball amphitheater - You know, where 190-destined and those turning onto Seneca sometimes meet in bumper-to-bumper combat.
Brown's is Middling City history, and there was a recent article about their demise, due, the owners stated, to different times.
YT wandered in there one day not too long ago out of curiosity and asked to see some wares. There were wares on view, wares just out of view, and wares in safes.
YT had made it to the second tier in the short visit and saw an unusual ring that was shaped as a bee with an amethyst body.
It was not spectacular enough to purchase but it does pop up into the recent memory bank from time to time.
The floor was worn wood, the cases were burnished oak, from years of leaning on both sides.
Supposedly a businessman from OH has purchased the triad of balls and so YT felt it was necessary to document them before they are gone. The day that they are not on the red building will be jarring.
After a marathon day yesterday when I was required to wear both writer and photog caps, met up with the Solid Gold Bookers to elucidate over Flannery O'Connor's Wise Blood. Both Annie and I had vintage copies, with yellowing pages and 70s covers.
As it was Saint Patrick Day there was some Gaelic fare, some whiskey, some other accoutrements that just say Irish.
Two parades, two Irish meals, it is now time to move thoughts ahead to all things spring, verdant, lily.

Lily white Love.