Tunnel of Love and Hate

Landmarks: Consecutive Substack Story 1112

Photo by David East on Unsplash

For a bunch of bricks and steel, Chuckles Tunnel had a pulse like a cat in a race.

Chuckles Tunnel was where my dad first scrawled his initials and my mom’s, my mom always joking he did it before she was sure the plus sign was gonna stick.

JW + MR

They showed it to me when I was five. By the time I was seven it was covered with a silver KISS logo.

Chuckles Tunnel is technically part of Chuklys Bridge, turning into a pedestrian tunnel on the Tibbert Park side.

My dad swore he remembered the first graffiti, and he was probably telling the truth.

Everyone put something in Chuckles Tunnel: Initials, drawings, stickers, gum, New York-Style subway graffiti.

I’m standing in Chuckles Tunnel now, looking at the spot where Sara Steinberg wrote Eat My Ass, Ricky Wingo.

Someone told my dad about it, and he laughed. Someone else wrote Ricky Wingo is Hawt. I never found out who, but I think Buddy Loughman did it before he drowned that summer, because he would have done something like that.

It’s the 60th Anniversary of the Chuklys Bridge.

Lots of very memorable things happened in those 60 years. I don’t think city council understands.

The entire tunnel is a mural now, okayed by city council.

They can call it a mural all they want.

It’s an advertisement.

It’s supposed to look dynamic and hip and organic and all those words that advertising people say in meetings that are closed to anyone who could tell them that those words are meaningless.

Seven years ago in Chuckles Tunnel someone scrawled Coleen Amherst needs a Kidney. Go to Romer Community Center and get tested to be a match.

Then someone wrote in bright white paint pen “Save a Life!!!”

Sara Steinberg herself wrote “I’m in!” and signed her name.

Lizzie Ryan signed under it and numbered herself #2

Pretty soon there were dozens of names written in Chuckles Tunnel.

Mostly girls and women.

And a drunk trucker from Pine Bluff, Arkansas, 905 miles away ambled into Chuckles Tunnel to take a piss and read the wall. Figuring he might meet some pretty girls , he walked into Romer Community Center.

I wouldn’t be telling you that if Bryce Tullen hadn’t been a match for Coleen Amherst.

City council must have forgotten about that. They didn’t, but they act like they did.

City Council talked about sexual perversity and a racial slur and sold the wall of Chuckles Tunnel to an agency representing FlashFizz Antacids.

Nobody in town is happy about it,except maybe a few pastors and Kevin Reilly, who eats those damn antacids like candy over at the pool hall.

The racial slur, yeah, that was there for about 20 minutes until Aidan Partaia covered it with a fierce looking, angry Super Mario screaming Fuck Racism. I’m proud to be that kid’s hockey coach.

Mario is gone now, it’s all gone, covered with some crap that, ultimately, someone hopes will make you buy their over-the-counter medical product.

There’s a surfboard on the damn thing, and you can’t surf within 300 miles of it.

Cindy Evert on city council claims that it will end the scourge of perversity and racial slurs.

They installed a camera and uninstalled the charm of the place.

There’s a wave underneath the surfboard.

My mom always talked about being buried at sea but wound up in a box next to my dad in Proud Lake Cemetery.

I smile at the camera, whip out a Sharpie and write JW + MR in the wave under the surfboard, A surfboard that has nothing to do with Tibbert, Michigan, Chuckles Tunnel or the pulse that a bunch of bricks and steel once had.

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