My gut tells me it is time to wrap up this series of photos and essays. The last post enticed a comment from Judy @ lifelessons-a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown. She stated basically that is was a waste to see something once beautiful come to a sad and wasted end. Judy also mentioned surely someone could put to use the furniture, doors and such. I know some of the furniture did get donated/stolen(who knows for sure) because I saw a truck with a trailer hauling chairs and free standing dressers away sometime back. As far as the doors, the frames are probably not the same size nor use the same lock sets set forth by today’s construction codes.
This last set of pictures depict the brokenness of this place and are a reminder of why I do not like it at all. It all began about six years ago when my wife and I with some friends tried helping those in need in our community. We soon found out small towns do not have programs of any substance when it comes to helping those way on the other side of the margins. To do so would be an admission that there are homeless and starving people within our city gates. This place was one of three that people were “housed” in until a state or county agency would take up the case. All three formed a triangle of hopelessness as two set side beside one another with this one right across the street. People were left with other broken people in care of people who at best were indifferent to anything other than making a dollar. At least this place will no longer be a haven for hopelessness and with it being torn down maybe those still around the area can be released from the cold -grip that period may have on their lives.
This used to be the maids laundry room and was a place of honor and pride to a job that made or broke a many of hotels: Immaculate rooms.
The glass spread across the ground like a many of broken dreams and failed promises.
No walls: Hopefully now it will release those who have been a prisoner to them.
Author’s Note:The main reason I started down this rabbit trail is the same reason I am ending it: I feel a tug at the very center of my being to start writing again. In that vein I did this series of musings and I have signed up for an online creative non-fiction writing course. I will still post my photos and also a few of my digital renders of my stuff.