Another Non Ironic Veteran’s Day in Eagle Rock.

In a grammatically challenged Wikipedia entry, the Los Angeles suburb of Eagle Rock is described as an “upper middle class neighborhood” and “an eclectic gathering of hipsters and the creative class”, and “Over the past decade , (the) neighborhood has been experience gentrification as young urban professionals* have moved from nearby Los Feliz and Silver Lake”. This is a gross mischaracterization of the neighborhood I moved to 6 years ago (although I did in fact move from Silver Lake and I have been called both a hipster and a yuppie).

*Yuppies

Nestled between Pasadena and Glendale, Eagle Rock was one of the first homestead settlements in Los Angeles. The town’s name is derived from a giant rock that looms above the town that vaguely resembles an eagle’s head. Eagle Rock is home to the bucolic Myron Hunt designed campus of Obama alma mater Occidental College, and it’s fantastically curate bookstore. There are vestiges from bygone eras like Colombo’s, Stony Point, Capri,Â the Italian Bakery, and Casa Bianca, and a smattering of mom and coot businesses like the almost Twilight Zone-esque Tritch Hardware. But it’s not Mayberry. Eagle Rock has a history steeped in meth, drag racing and murder. Eagle Rock’s mid century era Rockwellian sheen was tarnished when it became a hunting ground for serial killers like he Hillside Strangler and the Night Stalker.

A street racing accident demolished Cindy’s diner. It was rebuilt and remains open, serving marginally mediocre meals to undiscerning Eagle Rockians.

When my friends and I first frequented Eagle Rock, 5 years before I moved there, it was really weird: hot roddy and methy. Eagle Rock is famed for its hot rod culture, it’s main drag a wide, gently curving boulevard, part of the Route 66, the “Main Street of America”, and an ideal racing strip. Sadly, Colorado Boulevard is still a street racing venue, and its not cute anymore. We went to a bar named “Toppers” that has since become a ski themed bar (The Chalet) and a faux British Pub (Black Boar), tragically unhip thematic joints for those in search of the “East Side” experience. “Toppers”, identified by a neon top hat, was a watering hole for middle-age or prematurely middle-age men and women who weren’t concerned about the bottom shelf booze and who openly snorted meth in the bathroom. These were Eagle Rock’s dwindling middle class, you know, real men; carpenters, cops and pipe-fitters, white, tough. In it’s final months, the clientele got totally out of hand. My friend and I walked into the ladies room where a grizzled woman had her leg hoisted up onto the sink, changing bloody bandaged wrapped around her gout infected ankle.My friend’s brother was accused of being a “cop” by a spooky-eyed local in the men’s room to which my friend responded: “I know I look like an asshole, but I swear I’m not a cop”. The local said “prove it” and handed him a straw. The bartender was TV’s Wednesday Addams.Â The quality of the alcohol was alarming. Toppers hosted an unpopular Sunday morning “Bloody Mary” special, which resulted in Â in immediate vomiting. But we liked it there. It was a safe haven from Silver Lake. Then the bar started booking live bands and the meth gang gradually disappeared.

Last year, the New York Times ran aÂ story about Eagle Rock, using it as a microcosm of towns ruined by the recession. The boutiques, restaurants and bars that “yuppies” envisioned popping up, didn’t. The main drag, Colorado Blvd, instead is lined with auto body shops, kung fu studios and some of the weird stores that have inexplicably survived through the millennium (a stained glass store). The NYTimes interviewed a young shop owner, who has since shut down her boutique:

A sad flower shop on the corner, she thought, could become a miniature Whole Foods. An upholstery store could be a gastropub where she and friends would grab a beer, and a neglected 1940s diner could become a retro spot for a quick meal.Â But Ms. Cook has stopped fantasizing about what might be, and started worrying about what might shut down. The flower store has closed; no gourmet market is moving in. Lucy Finch, a vintage boutique, folded last month. That Yarn Store, a hangout for crochet-heads, didnâ€™t survive a bad winter.

The new residents brought prosperity and, the locals say, a little arrogance as well. â€œThey sounded the trumpets and announced a vision of something like Silver Lake or Los Feliz,â€ said Bob de Velasco, who runs Commercial Printing Network, a copy shop. â€œBut itâ€™s not going to happen. Eagle Rock wasnâ€™t meant to have that. Eagle Rock is an old-fashioned, atmospheric town.â€Â Indeed, in this downturn, Mr. de Velascoâ€™s printing shop doesnâ€™t seem to be hurting, nor is Tritch Hardware. The shops at risk are the ones playing the Decemberists in a continuous loop.

I am sorry her shop closed, it was really nice. I am not sorry that Whole Foods Inc. didn’t plant it’s gluten free behemoth in the neighborhood, or that bus and tunnel bars didn’t start popping up. I moved from Silver Lake – where I had lived for 10 years – when that area became a nightmare. I wanted peace and quiet and to not feel bad about myself amongst all the skinny pants guys and gals who had surreptitiously supplanted the rockers and the Betty Page types. Eagle Rock seemed to be a dowdy enclave with a large population of seniors, one bar and a town council of coots hell bent on keeping it that way. A few years ago, a couple of idiots wanted to open a sports bar – under the guise of an upscale restaurant – on a residential corner. The coots didn’t want it. Â And I – half coot – didn’t want it. At the town council meeting – an old coot to yuppie ratio of 90 to 1 in favor of the coots – I sided with the elderly. Things got so heated that a young woman speaking on behalf of the bar (to be named “The Fat Dog”), was reduced to tears by the alarming hostility of the old coots. It was pre Tea Party, low stakes, and so much fun. That’s the beauty of Eagle Rock. It’s clinically insane.

This has little to do with Veterans Day other than the town is really down on it’s heels, but the old coots who were in Eagle Rock before the failed renaissance, are still in Eagle Rock. And many of them are war veterans. And not one of the “hipsters” or “yuppies” who showed up to support “The Fat Dog” showed up to support them. And of all the young parents who shop for their kids at one of the many hideous rock n roll themed kid’s stores in the neighborhood, not one of them brought their kids to the parade. Latino, Korean, Filipino and African American parents brought their kids, who waved little flags and shrieked with the excitement of someone who has never seen a real parade as the sad “floats” (cars) passed by.

Abraham Lincoln said, ‘We here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that the nation shall have a new birth of freedom and that the government of the people, by the people and for the people shall not perish from the earth.’Â Veterans Day was first incorporated by President Wilson as Armistice Day in 1919. After WWII, citizens wanted veterans of all wars to be recognized so Congress changed the name from Armistice Day to Veterans Day. Every Veteran’s Day, like communities all over America, Eagle Rock hosts a wreath laying ceremony at City Hall, and a parade.

Today, on a dreary afternoon, Nancy and I attended the annual ceremony and parade that not one “hipster” or “yuppie” ever attends. Non white families were sparsely sprinkled along the parade route of Eagle Rock Blvd as cars carrying Veterans, our local politicians and police, the girl and boy scouts rode by. Despite the shabbiness of the parade and the barren parade route, everyone looked proud. Because it is still a parade. And in the middle of 2 wars, where young Americans have chosen to serve the cause that is greater than self, enduring tour after tour in horrific places,Â and in an era where so many act only in pursuit of narrow self-interest, it is difficult not to be moved by the sacrifice of veterans. Many of the down trodden, nutso looking guys that walk up and down Colorado Blvd, or hang out at the 7-11 parking lot, frightening the yuppies, are given the opportunity on this one day, to put on the uniforms they donned when they fought for the freedom to us to even have 7-11s to buy our late night Ben and Jerry’s. On this one day, they receive approbation from their neighbors, rather than having them recoil in fear and disgust. Across America, veterans from all generations come to events just like this. Well, most better than this. Not only to receive the thanks of a grateful nation, but to put on their uniforms, and tell their stories of sacrifice in pursuit of a more perfect union.

EAGLE ROCK CITY HALL

These guys were the bomb, embracing every otherwise suspect looking as a fellow veteran.

Somberly watching the wreath ceremony like everybody else.

This wheelchair bound WW2 Veteran received a special honor.

A beautiful 12 year old girl sang “God Bless America” perfectly, to no musical accompaniment,

After leaving the wreath ceremony and walking to my car, I saw a guy decked out in his Vietnam stuff – you know, a denim vest adorned with military patches – walking alone back to his car. He had gotten all decked out and now he was going home, until next year. I stopped to ask him if he was going to the parade. He asked where it was, and at what time. I gave him the directions and he said sadly that Â he didn’t think he could make it there and back to his car.

DOWN THE STREET AT THE PARADE.

A very small spattering of parade goers lined Eagle Rock Blvd.

These “yuppies” and “hipsters” watched from the back of their truck.