Jeff Ward: Why I Love Downtown Geneva

As a result of an earlier Patch column castigating the city of Geneva for fumbling the football, regular reader Colin Campbell challenged my conviction that they should’ve seen the emerald ash borer coming. When I stood my ground, Colin dared me to come up with similar predictions that might avert future Geneva disasters.

You may also recall from my previous prose that  Pastor Brian Coffey frequently refers to me as a “prophet.” And my typical response to this repeated assertion is always a fearful, “Didn’t biblical prophets suffer some rather fascinating fates?”

Whether it’s , , , or , those kind of prophetic columns generally aren’t well received. It brings to mind the CNBC commentators who openly laughed at any expert who dared declare that subprime mortgages would have dire consequences.

But the only journalistic alternative is to resort to “happy news,” which challenges no one. God bless writers like who always focus on the positive, but that ain’t never gonna be me. There are far too many folks in positions of power who need to know someone’s watching them.

What Terry Flanagan understands but so many of my detractors fail to realize is, implicit in these predictive pieces is an inherent love for the entity I surmise to be in danger. The reason I write about Swedish Days and the City Council is because, within the bounds of reason, they could both be a heck of a lot better.

But before I retrieve Colin’s so persuasively thrown gauntlet, I’m not taking any chances. This time, I’m going to thoroughly explain my fondness for the patient before issuing a terminal prognosis.

So in the spirit of a poem a famous Betty so eloquently effused, how do I love thee downtown Geneva? Let me count the ways!

It starts with ! We’re fortunate to have one of the few remaining independent record stores right here at State and Third. Why would anyone want to buy vinyl record albums from Amazon when you have the option of interacting with real music lovers?

After your stop at KTS, it’s a hop, skip and a jump to for a roast beef sandwich and a couple of banana coconut muffins. Regardless of your purchase, you can always county on a free slice of bread and a hearty “hello” from owner Marty Kane.

If I’m feeling especially hungry, then it’s across State Street to for one of their “ultimate steak sandwiches.” They’re one of the few restaurants that actually understand what the word “rare” means. And if you time it right, you might be fortunate enough to have an always interesting conversation with owner Mike Oleson.

While we’re at the corner of State and Third, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the . It’s only because of their expert assistance that I’ve managed to purchase birthday and Christmas clothes that my wife actually doesn’t return! How many husbands can say that?

We’ll head back across the street to where Eric and his crew are equally as willing to help you out with the latest in minimal running shoes.

And after you’ve run a few miles too many (as I often to do), it’s time to head to where Marja and her capable staff understand exactly what a deep tissue massage really is. Those chain spas have no clue.

After those aches and pains have been ironed out and you’re ready to hit the road, is your next stop. Whether it’s the perfect carbon fiber road bike or some warm winter biking gear, owner Ara Oggoian and his staff are happy to help.

Before we head south, it’s back across Route 38 to Jim Malatesta’s . You can’t beat the conversation and his eclectic store is always an interesting proposition.

On Third Street, our first stop is the Southwest Trading Company. Almost all of my jewelry and most of my home office décor comes from their wide selection of Native American art. My favorite piece is a decorative spear created by artist David Rosales.

Then it’s on to for a “large” scoop of chocolate peanut butter chocolate chip ice cream. And if they happen to be on deck, you can’t beat the owners’ enthusiasm for serving their customers. (My wife loves  Coffeehouse's chocolate fondue.)

Let’s not forget where they know exactly what “there’s no such thing as too much mustard (or onions) on a liver sausage sandwich” means.

If it’s breakfast you’re looking for then look no further than .

There’s , , , ,  and much more.

You can go ahead have your Randall Road store clerk grunts, but if I’m going to shop somewhere, then I want it to be at a place that provides a pleasant experience. Buying the latest Wilco CD shouldn't be an ordeal. If I’m going to spend my hard-earned cash, then I want to know exactly who I’m dealing with.

The great thing about Geneva is, our downtown is exactly that kind of place. But if by humoring Colin, I had to make a prediction today, I’d probably be quoting an Eagles song title.

Next Wednesday we’ll discuss why I think downtown Geneva is Already Gone.