All Gone, All Good

When I see miles of railroad torn apart and made into trails, or old roads that abruptly end in the wake of newish highways, I grieve. When I see old-style gas stations turned into carpet stores, I wince. Yet, it is okay -- more than okay. It reminds me of fresh soil turning and never forgetting that some of the best nourishment for new life comes from life that has been.

I suppose, I am still afraid of such things, but I am much braver with change now -- with loss there is beauty as surely as loss always allows a place for what was.

* * *

Test patterns were at least something, even before Sky King and the Cisco Kid. Afterwards on some Saturday mornings we would go to the Bannock Community Store. They wrapped the deli cheeses and meats with paper and loops of string from a huge spool but the thing that is most substantial in my mind about the place was that they had a wooden floor. It was the sort of wood that was unvarnished in the kind of selling space that was always kept neatly broomed but never washed -- kind of smooth-oily-grimy. It gave a very different feeling than linoleum, vinyl or tile does. I liked getting either a banana popsicle or an Orange Push-Up if my parents would happen to spring for a treat. When we came back home we usually would have orange juice which mom way over-diluted, slices of cheese and breakfast for lunch -- and then watch cartoons.