ON BEN LOMOND'S GRIN by Kent Winward     The snow and the grin have returned to Mt. Ben Lomond. I await every fall for the return of the mountain's cheshire grin to smile down upon me, brightening my cold fall days. Not being a big fan of cold or winter, I find the irony supreme that the mountain smiles only when it is snow-capped. The last thing that makes me smile is frost-bitten fingers as I try and scrape the ice off my windshield or a cold bitter wind that blows through me as I try to pump gas. In the midst of such morning rituals in the cold blue clarity of a fall day, I can look up and see the mountain grinning at me. The bitter distaste for cold and discomfort is the catalyst for a smile from nature and groans from me.    In spring the mountain's demeanor changes and the grin becomes something of a sinister leer as the lips narrow and the eyes seem more slanted. April can be the cruelest month. Spring the precursor to warmth and the seasonal foreplay for reproduction as winter begins a thawing decay. By summer, the smile finally disappears in the brown and purple sage. Vanishing, leaving a faint outline, the face is all but gone.    IThe seasons shift and change and throughout all, the face seems to appear and reappear in ways that are opposite to how I'm feeling at the time. Smile when you are cold, vanish when you are warm, and leer and sneer when the seasons teeter on the brink.    As we head into the long cold winter	months, I'm glad the mountain grins. I'm glad because holidays aren't always happy. The Christmas carols don't always brighten the soul. For many, it is a time of feeling excruciatingly alone and depressed. For all those folks (and the happy ones too), I'm just glad we have a mountain to smile at us and remind us all to smile, especially when it is bitter cold.
ON PARKING LOTS AND WAL-MART By David Winward    II was in Birmingham, Ala. getting ready for a flight home. I was in the parking lot of a K-Mart searching for a one-hour photo department. Fearful of my film being ruined by increased homeland security x-ray potency at the airport, I wanted my film developed before I left. I had four or so shots left on my camera. I started snapping anything in sight: the K-Mart shopping cart return sign and our Chevy Impala rental car. I even photographed the ground. When I shot it I never thought of its significance. There I was in Birmingham, Ala., and the image was universal of any shopping center in the world. I could have taken the picture anywhere. It could have been taken at any number of places right here in Ogden. For all you know, it was taken here in Ogden and I have never really was in Alabama -- that is how universal the image is. It made me think about where I work, live and go to school. I thought about Ogden and I thought, “What is making Ogden not like everywhere else in the world? What makes Ogden special?” Sure we have shopping carts, asphalt, gravel and strip malls and box buildings. But we also have things that are distinctly Ogden.    IMy brother once said that I’m anarchistbound. And I'm inspired by strange things, like the following dialogue from “So I Married an Axe Murderer.” Stuart: Well, it's a well-known fact, SonnyJjim, that there's a secret society of the five wealthiest people in the world known as the Pentavaret, who run everything in the world, including the newspapers, and meet tri-annually at a secret country mansion in Colorado known as The Meadows. Tony: So who's in this Pentavaret? Stuart: The Queen, the Vatican, the Gettys, the Rothschilds, and Colonel Sanders before he went caput. Oh, I hated the Colonel, with his wee beady eyes and that smug look on his face - ‘Oh, you're gonna buy my chicken!’ Charlie: Dad, how can you hate The Colonel? Stuart: Because he puts an addictive chemical in his chicken that makes you crave it fortnightly, smart*!@!    However, I think the Pentavaret is made up of the Queen, Bill Gates, McDonalds, Krispy Kreme and Wal-Mart. Soon Wal-Mart will stretch from I-15	to the Newgate mall – CostCo and ShopKo are Wal- Mart in disguise. One box-shaped superstore will be torn down and replaced by another box-shaped superstore. I think it would be nice if they made an effort to become part of the local flavor rather than being a national chain that will put up one cubicle store after another without any thought to the town. At the very least, they should emulate The Olive Garden out on Riverdale Road, which, despite being the mecca of every dance-bound group of 20-odd high school kids in formals requesting separate checks, daily at 5:00 p.m. when stuck in traffic, at least I get to imagine I'm stuck in Tuscany. (I'll bet that even in Tuscany I could take a picture of a shopping cart and asphalt, though.)    I drive down 25th Street almost everyday on my way to work. That street really has some flavor to it, even with those freakishly eerie Mt. Vesuvius-like mummies of copper covered children entombed on random corners. It’s impossible to name all the shops on that street and to take the time to give them their fair share. But being an avid crocheter, I will have to mention: The Needlepoint Joint. (And if anyone from Barnes & Noble is reading this, I am appalled that Barnes & Noble still files the crochet magazines under Women’s Interests despite the numerous letters I have written.)    Even Everwood adds a little bit of flavor with its fake doctor’s office front. I'm just really concerned though. What happens when someone gets in a car accident and they run into Dr. Abbot’s for help and they rip the front door off its hinges to discover it’s nothing more than a movie set front? Sorry, that’s just the anarchist in me. Kent and David Winward, brothers, are poets, writers, photographers and avid readers. Both brothers are in the legal profession by day, artists by night. You can reach Kent at kent@streetmagazine.net or David at david@streetmagazine.net.

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