The 99c gift shop was the height of this part of town. The other units were an assortment of fast food counters and bars. The bright flickering of former Hollywood glory had all but dwindled. Art Deco was a faint memory, class and charm left town some time ago. Litter blows across the glittering sidewalk and hats lie in wait of loose change while impressionists pose for tips.
Yet all the while, stars line the walkway, meticulously positioned, one after another. Accolades and achievements in all five points of these extraordinary sidewalk gongs. Each one unique with a name we all know, imprinted with brass shields denoting the honoured trade or art. Icons of music, film and literary greats, even Jesus Christ has a star. This is the Walk of Fame.
The Walk of Fame lengthens with time. But mostly it is fixed. A lifetime’s career compressed into one square metre of remembrance. A city remembers the greatest, the beautiful, the adored, whilst all around; the landscape rushes past. Shops, stalls and the most lowly businesses surround the glory of our screens and books.
We drop stars each day. In how we interact with humanity. Deeds and accomplishments far grander than the glittering memories of the Boulevard. The person we take it. The bereaved we counsel, the shoulder we offer. The landscape will constantly shift and change. Like new occupants of the units along 90027, people come and go, but like the sealed memories of yesterday, will we remain consistent? Choosing daily to be remembered for a life spent offered to others. Not in the promotion of self or similar meaningless agendas, but the most rewarding achievements of service.
Can our lives be studded with stars denoting icons of a listening ear, a cup of water or praying hands. The Walk of Service is less crowded than The Walk of Fame, but there is room for many more.
dean hogarth 