Satellites, French Fries, and Big Robot

EchoSphere

It's hard for me to imagine Springfield without its hidden gems. All the sculptures downtown are what I think really make the city. Just say, "Drive south and when you see the french fries, take a left into the lot," and they'll know you want to take them to the little Mexican Villa. Tell them, "I cut through the satellites to get to class faster," and they'll know you go to MSU. And when kids say they like to play with big robot, you know we aren't in any danger of becoming enslaved by metallic overlords.

    

Kinetic Man

When we lived in central Springfield, we would drive past the french fries all the time. For some reason, my sister and I would get so excited about it, that we were bouncing in our car seats. We would always ask before getting in the car, 

     

Sun Target

"Are we going to pass the french fries?" I remember when we finally went to the art museum to get a look at the famed fries up close. Seeing it from all angles filled me with such an immense joy and wonder for art. How could the artist know that it wouldn't fall down? I was amazed that no one had tried to steal it away, or damage it. I'd always felt an attachment to the fries, but that day I felt like the fries were someone I had to protect from vandals and thieves. I was barely 6 years old, give me a break. But soon I found out that its real name was Sun Target and not The French Fries. The bitterness of betrayal stayed with me for a few days. To think that I'd been calling it the wrong name for years never occurred to me. Instead I conjured up the story that the fries didn't  like me anymore and was trying to hide their identity in an effort to avoid me. 

But the fries and I are all good now. I still call them the french fries because I don't think Sun Target is a very good name for a sculpture that is obviously french fries.