Small Embellishments

One of the things I appreciate the most about humanity is our willingness to tattoo our presence almost everywhere. From the alleyways of København to the rusted-out rail cars of rural Massachusetts, we leave our indelible marks everywhere. Now, to a greater extent, this appreciation only extends as far as the things we’ve made; our impressions of Nature herself are frankly embarrassing and unwarranted, but for now, we’re just dealing with our small bubble of Americana.

I’ve made it a goal to start exploring places I’ve always driven past, those branches off the main roads where curiosity has never quite hit my threshold for investigation. Yesterday’s story about the Hoosac is one such example, and today is no different.

I’ve always appreciated the smaller towns and their push for survival in a day and age when gentrification, pricing pressures, inflation, remote workers, and the associated effluvia of humanity pressure their existence. One such town is Millers Falls, a speck of a town located at the nexus of a rail line convergence and just down the river from Turners Falls, the primary mill and factory town of this area.

As noted yesterday, as rail has turned to highway and truck-based transport, the falloff of these towns has been steep. However, the indomitable spirit of a town isn’t measured in transport. A subtle reinvention and invigoration is present when faced with the challenges of persisting in the face of economic adversity. Millers Falls has embraced this change with a measure of aplomb that is both admirable and welcome. From the subtle shifts in the red brick frontage to the emergence of a local micro-distillery and brewery (Elemental Brewing), Millers Falls is certainly embracing the push to reshape and reform its presence.

The detritus of its history is also present in larger amounts as well. The rail lines that are still active pass through the outskirts of the town, the older factory buildings having their windows broken out, chain link fences emplaced to somehow keep out the ruffians that are likely to go exploring the darkened halls and corridors. There are signs of life in each location, from the stacked metal rails and cross members sitting in an abandoned lot to the emergence of more and more graffiti on the bricks. A few rail cars sit off a spur that isn’t currently in use, their rusted hulks showing evidence of a hard life, even if their material age is less than a few decades.

I’ll certainly have more pictures from this scouting, but in the interim (and as I sit at the airport waiting for my flight to come in), I found this bird to be a welcome sign of life in the sea of rust and other expressions. For all that commerce and history have shown us, we understand there to be a heavy toll on people and Nature. These little beacons of human interaction against the backdrop of time’s grinding march onward show us that all is not lost and that there is still something we can find within our souls to lighten up the world.

Moments like these can get lost against the backdrop of business and progress. We casually rush past on our merry way to spin circles in jobs we believe will soothe the ache of need and then back to our homes, where we prepare to repeat the same cycle the next day, in perpetuity. We purchase panaceas for our souls when we need to stop more often, explore the side roads and channels of our experience, learn from our collective histories, and move forward to embody more meaningful moments in humanity’s story.

I challenge you to stop. Turn around, look at the rusted-out hulks of industry, the empty, glass-shattered buildings of modernity, and challenge yourself to find the small embellishments showing that, at one time, humans traversed the space. Be it graffiti, splashed paint, or caricatures of what once was, I believe you’ll leave with a smile on your face and in your heart, just like I did.

May it ever be so.