Skip to main content

Sign Of the Times


Progress is fun when you are young but sad when you creep into older age.  Personal rituals and memories of places become more ingrained - more important.  Neighbor Tim sent me pictures a week or so ago of his visit to the Sandburg mall in G-Burg.  It is closed now and presumably going to go into some sort of outdoor shopping area.    

It's hard to even imagine these hallways being crowded at one time but they were.  For twenty years it was the place to shop.  When it was built the downtown was decimated.  Now the downtown and the Other place across town have grown and the death of the Mall has been well known secret for many years.      






My old car club, the Western Illinois Antique Auto Club, used to meet out here down the hall with the restrooms.  My brothers and Dad made a tradition of Christmas shopping here and then having pizza at Pizza Hut.  It was where I would bring little Michael out to play on the tractors when John Deer had an area.  It was where Marj would send me in to places and I'd get whatever she needed. 

  


It was where Brendan and I struck up a bargain with grades and I ended up with an ear pierced.  It was where I'd take the kids o see the miniature train running around that great Plexiglas display.  We'd almost always end up at the McDonalds.







Things change. Habits are broken and new ones created.  Things spring to life, then die.  An autopsy will probably report rents were too high - dictated from metropolitan places where account managers couldn't even find Galesburg on the map.  That autopsy may also reveal that SM was indistinguishable from other malls and that a day trip to Peoria or the Quad Cities sounded like more fun.  Maybe people simply change and grow fatigued with the sameness of it all.  But for a long time, this structure, this edifice was more than bland walls and blander music.  It was friends, and family and gifts and kids and maybe a little fun.  How do you say thanks to a giant empty parking lot?  

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Summer Swim

It's Monday and the start of another work week.  Except for me.  I have the week off because the parents of my daycare charges are taking the week off, too. This is one of those wordless posts I love on Mondays so I can put my laziness in full view of loyal readers.  These pics need no words.  Why muddy the waters?   They were taken at the pool at Sinkhole Estates aka Death Valley.  The nice thing about this pool is it is heated in winter.  If one must find positives in one's situation, I suppose that is one.  But, please, no more.   

Flashback Friday

Class, Or Lack Thereof The Dwight Vice gravestone in Oquawka, Illinois. I bring this old chestnut out every so often just to remind me that class is classless.  Dwight Vice was killed in his home near Oquawka in 2001.  It was one of those things that can generate crime:  two guys thought Dwight had a lot of money stashed at home because of his pot-selling sideline to supplement his fishing job.   Not really one of those big drug deals gone-bad things.  Marijuana was, according to the trial, about the only stuff Dwight sold.   But these two guys barge into the house and killed Dwight and attempted to kill his 11 year old kid, Darryl, before they took off with what money they could find.   His son, now 23, was stabbed in the back and left for dead.  He survived and is wheelchair bound and has undergone several surgeries to repair his wounds.  He will be paralyzed for life.   None of this is pleasant.  Reading the facts of the murder and attempted murder are most unpleasant