> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.raincrossgazette.com/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # Nothing Mid About Midtown - URL: https://www.raincrossgazette.com/nothing-mid-about-midtown/ - Published: 2026-09-18T12:00:35.000Z - Updated: 2026-09-18T12:00:34.000Z - Description: A looping Midtown walk turns up thrift shops, murals, an ice cream break and a few old habits that refuse a new name. - Author: Larry Burns - Tags: community I have trouble deciding where to park in Midtown. There are several possible routes I can take today; none of them can cover all Midtown has to offer. Choosing a place to park narrows my options. Which I guess I need. Every direction offers something, and I already suspect I've brought more curiosity than time. I settle near San Simeon Way and Brockton Avenue, where uncomplicated free parking requires just a few extra steps to reach dozens of destinations. From here, I can buy shoes or have them repaired, get my hair and nails done, upgrade my car stereo, pick up pet supplies or satisfy a sweet tooth. I don't need any of those things today, but just to be safe I start walking down Brockton away from the cookie shop. Where will my willpower take me next? The Arcade's low storefronts and long overhangs keep its architectural bona fides intact while providing lots of helpful shade for shoppers. While not playing the role of consumer or travel guide, I have done plenty of that back when this area was called Magnolia Center. I imagine I'm not the only one. Rene's Artique and Little Green Onions — I miss you! A slight right onto Magnolia at the horse statue. Traffic snarls regularly at this irregular intersection, supporting my choice to start a walk here. I cross that busy intersection of Brockton/Central/Magnolia. A right on Sunnyside after Central puts me among thriving thrift and vintage shops, alongside newer food and coffee options. A smiling sun mural welcomes me to Sunnyside; at the other end of Sunnyside is a colorful mural of donkeys grazing amongst spaceship-sized donuts on the Box Springs Mountains. Between the murals, storefronts and people, there's something colorful or alive at every turn. Here's a street where buying something old can be the beginning of something new. There's also a post office branch, multiple dance studios and fitness centers. Apparently, several establishments are prepared to improve how I move. How do I describe the sheer variety of small businesses I pass? Even my chatbot will run out of adjectives and examples. Instead, try this game. Name three tasks or errands you need to do. I bet you can do them all from Midtown without moving the car. I don't need to get a new shirt, mail a package and squeeze in a workout, but I could, all while eating a hot donut and an iced coffee. That's the kind of energy I'm working with today. Just imagining imaginary me doing those errands makes me feel actually productive. Left onto De Anza where I will only have time to wave at, not walk through, Riverside Plaza. Then a quick left onto Beatty because De Anza at Beatty is where the sidewalk ends. Great title for a book of poetry but something to avoid on today's ambulation. Beatty winds like a cute little creek back to Magnolia, where I turn right. Cars enter and leave driveways, bicycles and e-scooters move through, and a handful of others on foot like me. I keep looking ahead, sideways, back toward whatever caught my attention. Everybody is going somewhere, often in opposite directions. But a driver waits for me to cross. I appreciate the courtesy, and the eye contact. The dance studios aren't the only places where people need to coordinate their next steps in Midtown. Trees, shrubs and landscaping along the Staples frontage draw my attention toward the railroad underpass. Beneath the bridge, pillars and circular decorative relief cuts of agricultural images in vibrant green acknowledge the importance of growing your own in Riverside. A decade ago, a passing train could bring travel through this area to a standstill. The underpass now separates those two very different transportation needs. Magnolia at Elizabeth I cross towards the Ralph's shopping center to head back on the other side of Magnolia. Before that, I take in the mural at the new home for Mikey G's. The bagel and coffee offering fits the mix of thrift stores, learning centers and offices here. At the Magnolia and Elizabeth bus stop, two RTA employees are taking a snack break. I overhear their assessment of nearby restrooms: cleanliness, accessibility and how welcoming the staff are. I won't publish their rankings. I will report, unofficially, that hospitality is alive and well. A place to sit, some shade, and a usable restroom can determine how long we stay somewhere. Those are things I notice much sooner on foot. Cutting right up Merrill toward Brockton, I pass Lucky Greek (resisting the county's best fried zucchini), auto repair, a reptile shop, medical clinic and real estate offices, even a few single-family homes. This is the mix I hope we keep: businesses serving different needs, with people around to help. Back on Brockton, houses adapted for business provide local professional services. Passing the closed Antone's, I wonder whether another restaurateur might give that location another long run. Crossing back over Magnolia/Central/Brockton, I pass a single-story row of white storefronts. I shop at a few of them, and I see the regularly changing mix of businesses as a way to check the pulse of our retail economy. One thing that hasn't changed along Magnolia is the Dairy Queen. The unique double-decker blue bench gives me somewhere to cool off. I grab my go-to, a medium chocolate-dipped vanilla cone. I've just beaten the lunch rush according to the friendly guy working here. I eat my cone while the intersection traffic sounds fade into background noise. I can catch the pleasant smell of laundry drying from the laundromat sharing its driveway. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/b3/b2/b3b29e3b-298e-485f-86ca-3034c21e3784/content/images/2026/09/dairy-queen-blue-bench.jpg) The double-decker blue bench outside the Midtown Dairy Queen, a longtime spot to cool off with a cone. | Larry Burns Last week I heard Cellar Door Books moved into Midtown, and I'm thrilled to see them here in a shotgun-style storefront. I watch several people I know coming and going during my short respite. I discreetly duck behind my rapidly disappearing cone. Farther along is the handsome RUSD Riverside Adult School; I love how they've preserved the beauty and functionality of the space. Near Luther Street, a resident watering the lawn notices me just before giving me a spray. I wouldn't have minded. Pleasant weather and ice cream hasn't stopped me from working up a sweat. At Tibbetts I'll go left to make my way back into Brockton Arcade. But first, I pause at the intersection to admire the Marcy Library. My daughter is too old for story time circles, but I credit this library with helping to instill a lifelong love of reading (and borrowing books) in my family. Next to the library, Low Park offers a slice of grass and shade. Its wedge shape echoes my triangular route today. Low Park has its celebrated Chicago White Sox redwood, planted by members of the team in 1914\. But I'm partial to the "olive tree" pretzeled into some kind of yoga pose. A quick Google search of the image I take corrects my long-standing misunderstanding. It's actually a Prostrate Myoporum, a relative of olive trees. I appreciate walks that teach me something new. Wildlife has been limited mostly to a squirrel climbing a tree and dogs riding in cars. Between the plants, murals, storefronts and people, I haven't felt short of things to notice. A vintage car parked below a mural of historic Brockton at Nelson adds a three-dimensional contribution to the scene. ![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/b3/b2/b3b29e3b-298e-485f-86ca-3034c21e3784/content/images/2026/09/Historic-Brockton-Arcade-Mural.jpg) A vintage car parked beneath the Historic Brockton Avenue mural, dedicated to Hank and Hattie Redmond. | Larry Burns Within sight of my car, I obey the "fresh-baked cookie" culinary nudge and treat myself at Riverside Cookie Shoppe with a chocolate chip cookie with nuts. From the bench out front, I watch a father and son navigate a cookie purchase, then the signalized crossing on Brockton. That full traffic signal feels like civic engineering from another era. A dipped cone and a cookie have replaced lunch. My healthy walk is a break-even venture calorically, at best. It's close to one when I return to the car. I notice drivers cutting one another off and pushing through lights as soon as I'm surrounded again by metal. The impatience feels familiar, but it wasn't how these streets felt while I walked them. I still think "Magnolia Center" when I see the Midtown banners. Culture beats a good branding campaign most days; people keep names attached to their habits and memories. Meanwhile, the businesses keep adjusting to our tastes and incomes. Old buildings, new food, familiar services, secondhand possibilities.