Uncle Hugo's

It has been an emotional whirlwind of a week. I write this blog located near Minneapolis, Minnesota. My city is all over the news: George Floyd was murdered by a cop last week Tuesday. Protests and riots broke out in a reaction to yet another incident of police brutality in my community. Buildings and shops are being destroyed. There was rioting and looting going on at the Target that I shop at.

But please before I go any further I need to emphasize that Black Lives Matter movenent has been committed to having non violent protests. They are emphasizing that this was an act of injustice and uplifting that police brutality has been an ongoing issue in our community for quite some time. Actually a lot of the violence is being caused by young white men who are ultra conservative and want to blame some kind of mayhem on the black community hoping to start a race war. (Do we ever learn from history?)

I feel like these dynamics are important to acknowledge before i talk about the grief I hold for seeing places I love in my community being burnt to the ground. I feel like this was an unjust act of violence and that racism needs to be addressed in my community and the overall world. But this does not take away from the hole I feel in my heart to see places I loved destroyed and demolished. When I got the word that Uncle Hugo's burnt to the ground I burst into tears and could not stop crying.

When I examined myself critically for these tears I knew my grief symbolized my privilege. I am a white woman who can afford to have a hobby of collecting horror novels....it is not something essential to my survival and it is a statement of economic privilege to have this hobby. But it was a place that was very precious to me.

Last week when some businesses were starting to open up again Uncle Hugo was one of the first stops that I HAD to make. The dog that usually ran up to the door to greet me wasnt there (likely  a COVID19 precaution) but the shelf full of affordable used paperback horror novels that I love was still there. I feel deeply under the influence of Paperbacks From Hell by Grady Hendrix and Mother Horror's twitter feed which wet my appetite for horror novels. I love scrounging library sales and thrift shops to see what gems I might find. Uncle Hugo was a treat for me as it had a full shelf dedicated to horror while many other stores would classify horror as fantasy or thrillers. I have gotten stares from people perceiving me eccentric for preferring horror while Uncle Hugo was a store that made me feel welcome and at home. In the mist of coping with a lot of life challenges being at Uncle Hugo's and reading the books I got from there provided me with a delightful element of escape that provided respite for my spirit.

I am aware that the owners will explore the possibility of reopening somewhere else if they can find sufficient funding but the loss of the precious books and their current livelihood is massive. The world that we live in with all the changes and tragedies that have been associated with COVID19 serve as a reminder that nothing is ever certain and that everyone and everything is fragile. I am grateful that no dogs or people were hurt in this destructive act but a space that was important to me is now gone.

Please give me time to grieve and acknowledge this loss. I do think that it is very important to acknowledge and challenge the racism that I find in myself and my world. While I am not immune to the larger scale violence that is going on around me, as a white woman I am not targeted towards ignorant violence the way George Floyd was. I am safe because I am white. 

In order for me to address these challenges holistically I need time to grieve. Books will take an important part of this journey for me, that's just who I am. Uncle Hugo was a very special part of this journey for me as it fostered my passion for the horror genre. I just need a little time to collect myself in order to address the horrors in our world wholeheartedly. I've witnessed the city I love being shattered to pieces.