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#1 (permalink) |
Paladin of the Palate
Location: Redneckville, NC
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Losing A Place You Loved
Last night I went to my favorite bar in the world for it's final night in business. It's a small dive bar called "Sidestreet's Bar and Grill" or just Pappies (named after the owner's nickname). I use to live less than 5 minutes from it and I have a whole set of friends that I've met there. All the bartenders know me, take care of me, and pour heavy for me. I would say it's less than 500 square feet and is lit up by christmas lights most of the night. Really cheap prices on drafts and liquor made it a great place to go with only a little cash in your pocket. It has one of those great jukeboxes that are connected to the net that has some great music on it. Karaoke Thursday, Friday, Saturday nights. I've had great times at that place and met some of the best people in the world. It was my second home when I was working my last kitchen job and I often traveled 25 minutes from my new place just to drink there.
I loved that place and now it's closed. Question: Did you have a place in your life that you really loved visiting that shut down? I'm talking about bars, restaurants, places of work, parks, ect. A childhood burger joint you went to with your parents every Sunday afternoon or a college hangout that you lived at during your senior year there. Somewhere you visited and loved going too. |
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#2 (permalink) |
warrior bodhisattva
Super Moderator
Location: East-central Canada
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After WWII, my grandfather got a job as a park ranger for Frontenac Provincial Park in Ontario (about a 30-minute drive from my hometown, and a 3-hour drive from Toronto). He eventually became the superintendent, and founded several hiking trails, most of which are still in use today. The work he put into the place remains prominent. The official "camper's creed" can be found on a plaque embedded on the main office building, and it is dedicated to him.
Being the outdoorsman he was, he had also purchased a lakefront property pretty much adjacent to the park. It is a rugged, hilly, and forested place—absolutely beautiful. The only development ever done to it was a small house he built at the outer edge of the property next to the access road (far from the lake), a garden in the only field area, the small grove of pine he planted next to it for $0.01 each, a small one-room cabin and a small trailer up the hill from the lake, overlooking it. My family spent many summer weekends there. Being a family of six kids living off of a single working-class income, it was the only vacation we would ever get, for the most part. It was secluded. Aside from my great uncle's family who would stay in a little cottage a few hundred feet down the lake and through the woods, there was no one else around our little campsite. Even the little inlet on the lake where the property was situated seemed to be ours. It was our little bit of nature. Surrounded by forest and lake, we would go on adventures, nap, build campfires, and just hang out. My grandfather passed away over twenty years ago. He had willed his portion of the property to all his children: my two aunts, my uncle, and my mother. It wasn't portioned or anything; it was joint ownership. My eldest aunt passed away, and my uncle moved to the west coast. It was my own family who primarily used the property, and so my uncle eventually expressed his interest in selling it. My mother stressed rather emotionally that my grandfather would have never in his life want the property to leave the hands of the family. By this time, it had been about ten years since my grandmother passed away, and things gradually got nasty. My family has few resources, and so when it all came down to it, the property was sold. This all seemed to happen so quickly, but it was only because of my absence. The last time I was at this place where I spent the summers of my youth was several years ago now, when I was in my early twenties. I enjoyed that time, of course, but I took it for granted. I didn't know that it had been for the last time. I will never see that place ever again.
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Knowing that death is certain and that the time of death is uncertain, what's the most important thing? —Bhikkhuni Pema Chödrön Humankind cannot bear very much reality. —From "Burnt Norton," Four Quartets (1936), T. S. Eliot Last edited by Baraka_Guru; 07-31-2009 at 06:11 AM.. |
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#3 (permalink) |
Junkie
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The very spot where my wife and I got married is now a set of condominiums. If we wanted to re-visit it we'd be right in the middle of someone's living room or kitchen or whatever. It used to be a nice little garden.
And the condos are not even really all that attractive. |
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Tags |
losing, loved, place |
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