October 26, 2015
Death of a Building

The clinic that I used to go to as a child when sick or needing medical attention was razed this week.  I watched it come down.  It's not easy to see a building die, and judging by the many onlookers and seeing the expressions on their faces, it was evident that I wasn't alone in my thinking.

As difficult as this may be to see, much like a car crash or building ablaze, you just can't seem to look away.  And so I, along with the other watchers, stood by as a witness while the big machine gnawed at and teased away portions of this once vital structure. 

As the massive teeth of the machine eviscerated the building, ripping entrails of foundation and water pipes and electrical wiring and insulation with each bite, the dying structure was rent apart, I could sense at one point that it had finally given in to the inevitable.  It reminded me of the forlorn carrion in the road being slowly consumed by winged creatures. It would die and others survive.

How many lives began and ended there in that building, I wondered as I watched in reverent silence. How many folks had made it their life's duty working there every day for years on end - jobs spent in dedication caring for those in need? Doctors, nurses and volunteers, office workers, technicians, and housekeepers.   How many of those are now gone, as the building soon would be.

  

Now memories are all that will remain.

As I watched, in time the machine pivoted its arm to the main entrance, a brick half-moon shaped area where the name of the clinic once proudly spread across the front. Now there were letters forlornly missing, so it was difficult to even identify the old building.  I braced myself as the machine opened its teeth as widely as possible. Here was the last remaining wall standing in its unique glory.   But the brick wall was no match for the power of this machine that nudged the brick with force.  As parts of it came down, I watched the windows across the top shudder, and I was a bit shocked to discover that it elicited the same reaction from me.  I felt, in a way, a physical revulsion blow through my being.  

I almost cried.

I realize of course that this was only a building.  It consisted of bricks and walls rooms and hallways. So why let it hold such significance, and why the reaction when it was destroyed?  It’s because it was so much more.  The bricks and mortar, the glass and metal, it all made up the whole of this building, so familiar to me and many others. In many ways it was a landmark.  And now it is no longer.

The landscape will be forever changed, a piece of history gone.  Will there be something more to fill its space, I wonder.  Will new life sprout from the ground where the old once stood?  Could this, might this be the birth of a new memory for someone?  

Possibly.  Or most likely, the void will be filled with parked cars as far as the eye can see.  Who knows.