cur-mud-geon:
anyone who hates hypocrisy and pretense and has the temerity to say so; anyone with the habit of pointing out unpleasant facts in an engaging and humorous manner
Our first home in Germantown was on the corner of County Line Road and Mayflower Drive. We lived there for 19 years. Our kids did most of their growing up while there. Now, it has changed…and in the blink of an eye…or so it seems.
The small house to the west of where we lived doesn’t exist anymore. Now, it is only an empty space covered in straw. Same for the house on the next corner and the house next to it.
Those houses were razed as part of the County Line Road improvement project. Improvement is often in the eye of the beholder. I know that there is much more traffic today than there was in the span from 1969 through 1988. But, there were some great old trees that have bitten the dust. There were homes that served many families well, and those have been torn down.
All this in the name of progress, of course. If we hadn’t lived there for so long, it is very unlikely that I would’ve felt the way I do. I would’ve passed by barely even seeing that something had changed…and not quite being able to put my finger on that something.
I think about these things when I course through the back country roads past old, dilapidated barns and farm homes. I wonder about the people who lived there…and died there in many cases. What were their names? Did they raise large families? Have the children returned to stare at the emptiness? Do they have a tear in their eye when they realize that their youth is gone…or at least the vestiges of their youth?
Do we take the time we should to reflect and to remember? I try, but I know that I get caught up in the day-to-day and I don’t take the time I should. There are occasions such as now when I reminisce…but those times are too few and too far between I fear.
There will come a time when I can no longer remember the faces of those neighbors, no matter how hard I try. There may come a time when I’ll not even remember that I lived there. I hope that there are those who will pause on their way past to wonder if we raised a family there and what we did for a living, and pondered at the passing of time and memories as I do today.
Everything comes full circle…or so it seems. I feel sorry for those who are unable to take the time to pause to remember. I feel even sorrier for those who know they should and refuse to be drawn in to that maudlin process we call remembering.
