Sidewalk Dates

The Dude and I were "reading sidewalks" on Sunday. We were in the St. Anthony area of St. Paul, when we came across some new sidewalk - about three squares worth. They were stamped 7-20-2005, and they also had a name I have forgotten already: ABC Construction, Inc. or something like that.

The Dude thought someone was buried there. He's kind of fascinated with cemeteries and grave markers, so it's a logical leap. I explained that no one was buried there, but the sidewalk was stamped by the guys who made it, so we would know that they did the job. Once you know where to look, cement stamping is all over the place.

Today's Bleat touches on the same subject:

At the park a few weeks ago several of the concrete benches were stamped WPA 1939, and this gave them great poignancy - here the bench had rested for seventy-six years, facing the Mississippi; the trees had changed but the treeline had not. Traffic whined on the bridge; the flag snapped over the old hospital building; you could smell hotdogs. The relationship between today and 1939 was the same as your elbow and your ear. You could get them close but never make them touch. A few dozen yards away from the WAP tables laid slabs poured in ’64, marked with the name of a man long gone out of business. Al Parker. Forty years of feet and water hadn't erased his name; standing atop his handiwork in the impossibly sci-fi sounding year of 2005, we could still see his name and the day he finished the job. So few things are marked with the fabricator’s name and the exact date of completion; sidewalks are a common exception. Probably why we pay them little attention. If you had never seen a name or date stamped in a sidewalk, and you came across such a notation locked in the cement bond, it might be fascinating: who and why? But every street has a name, and every sidewalk has an author.

[Emphasis mine - nice words.]