A Little Bit of Ugly
Over the past decade that I’ve lived in my town, I’ve driven by this abandoned facility more times than I can count. Tucked off to the side of a shortcut road used to get from one side of town to the other, it doesn’t usually warrant a second glance. There are rail tracks just behind it, and, on occasional Sundays, you’ll get a glimpse of the engines and cars idling through the chain link fencing out front.
I know little of its provenance, and considering the other mill-era brick-and-mortar buildings in the surrounding area, it’s probably something I’ll never investigate further. It’s modern detritus in an age where the history of mortar, stone, and brick has more gravity for our stories. I was driving by over the weekend and figured its insignificance was worth telling a story about, especially as I wind down my time here over the next few years.
My town has always been a stop-over point for what comes next in my life. It’s been a decade of treading water, collecting myself, finalizing things, and trying to understand what I can do with my life. It’s had moments of insignificance, those days between the momentous fuckups and follies of my story. It’s had days of depression and depravity, of grace and mercy all the same. It’s been full of love, loss, and heartache as much as it’s been full of boredom and anxiety. My town has been chock-full of memories, regardless of their outcome.
In a way, my life has chainlink fencing like the building above. Spots where I’ve demarcated areas for demolition and removal to “clean house.” They haven’t been expeditiously removed and bear the scars, graffiti, and “tattoos” of experience. If life imitates art, I’m a pretty good example of it.
It requires objectivity to view these moments with anything other than casual dismissal. You have to look past the overt ugliness of the facade and try to understand the story that it tells. From the obscene graffiti to the impinging weeds, a lifecycle has been engaged here, with much more to come so long as it stands.
This is what fascinates me, however. This “little bit of ugly” is in the middle of nowhere. Its dereliction, decomposition, and detritus all speak to a day when it wasn’t. It speaks to a time when there was life moving in and out of its sliding doors, when those rusted metal stacks that wear their peeling white “Do Not Enter” letters proudly were full of god-knows-what, and when the 8–5 workday was in full effect. It was intentionality, purpose, and commitment to a group of people somewhere, and now, it’s an indelible part of their stories.
The quest I’m offering you today is to look around your town. Where are those places that are run-down, locked behind walls of insignificance, waiting for their next moment of glory or remembrance? Where do these places find resonance in your soul, and what memories do they bring to the fore, unbidden or otherwise?
Perhaps by considering these little bits of ugly, we’ll find some of our moments that will give us a reason to be grateful for the times we’ve had together, the places we currently live, and the years yet to come.
May it ever be so.
