Comments on: Gone, but not forgotten.

By: Rob

Rob — Thu, 11 Nov 2010 06:59:17 +0000

The one that pains me the most is the giant creek behind my house was plowed and paved. I have so many great memories of playing down there as a kid.

By: Dave Farquhar

Dave Farquhar — Thu, 11 Nov 2010 03:06:18 +0000

In the suburb where I lived from 1988-95, the roads aren’t even the same anymore. They widened and moved two of the main roads sometime in the late 90s, so I have a hard time finding the old neighborhood without getting lost. Most of the places I remember are gone too. Back then it seemed like the far edge of civilization, but urban sprawl overran it. It seems like I blinked and it went from one extreme to the other.

Where I live now, further east, it’s surprising how much has changed even in 10 years. We’ll drive past something and I’ll point and say what it used to be. The inner-ring suburbs are worse. The booming, sprawling strip mall where I bought my first Amiga stuff? Empty except for a thrift store and a store that sells cheap knockoff tools. The mall where I used to do all my Christmas shopping? Empty except for Sears and a couple of restaurants, basically waiting to be demolished.

By: Zeno

Zeno — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 20:40:46 +0000

As the Moody Blues once sang, “You can never go home anymore.”

It’s very difficult (read: “woeful”) for me to visit my hometown of Santa Fe just 50 miles up the road because I can’t help but impose my “memory map” of the city and feel resentful that “they” are not even trying to keep everything exactly as I left it in 1988. I’ve come to realize that this mindset, while strong, isn’t exactly fair to younger generations who have just as much right to nostalgia as I do.

“…for some reason seeing something new pop up seems less jarring than missing something old disappear.”

That’s the thing that gets to me most about the erosion of “my” Santa Fe: the infill. Fields of sand and desert plants where I used to freely ride motorcycles, shoot guns, ditch school, etc, are continually being plugged up with apartment complexes and strip malls.

By: Clint

Clint — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 14:29:42 +0000

I’ll sometimes stop at the old Central Elementary (now an Administrative building) and walk around reliving all of the old memories of the sand box, big toy, stage coach, tetherballs, jungle gym, kickball. Everything is gone now. I remember when it got really icy, we would slide down the wheelchair ramp..it went forever. Everything seems so much smaller now. I actually walked around in the building for about half an hour before a school faculty asked me to leave. I found Mrs. Knox’s and Mrs. Hendricks my old 6th grade teachers rooms. I was a little misty eyed. Don’t know why. Nothing lasts, but nothing is lost.

By: Mom

Mom — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 14:14:15 +0000

Worse than having things disappear is watching them be abandoned and slowly disintegrate! My old Dairy Boy I lunched at during high school just fell into the tall grass eventually. Somehow it hurts. My teenage hangout got sold, turned into a barbecue joint and then leveled to make room for a shopping mall. But the memories remain, so I guess that’s good enough. Even better is having others around that remember also; makes for good stories at family and class reunions!

By: Bonnie Strother

Bonnie Strother — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 13:16:00 +0000

I have driven through my old high school town after leaving and it had changed so much, I got lost! So, it wasn’t just a classroom, it was a whole town. Things change and they say change is good, but ….

By: sothy

sothy — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 13:04:51 +0000

When I turned 25 I realized i was a quarter century old. At a certain point it is pretty much “yeah you guys get flying cars and lasers…. but we had trees and shit”

By: Granny O'

Granny O' — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 11:31:55 +0000

you are still a very young man.
Even with all my drs visits, I still feel wonderful most of the time.
you are blessed with a very nice family.
lovely wife Susan , Mason and Morgan.and yourself is wonderful
love you all a bushel and a peck
Granny O’Hara