When the Past Vanishes
Anybody who is familiar with my journos will know that I tend to sentimental sketches and ramblings at times. If you are new here consider yourself warned. I once read that if you sit in one place long enough you will eventually run into everybody you know (I’ve spent enough time in bars and coffee shops to think there may be some truth to this). I’ve also read that if you live in one place long enough you will see pieces of your own past vanish (I’ve lived long enough in one place to think there may be some truth to this).
There used to be this just low class enough, just dive enough bar that I frequented in my early twenties. It was one of those kinds of places you would go with friends to drink heavily and try to meet someone (or a least be a wing man for one your friends who was trying to meet someone). It was the kind of place where you would spend a good chunk of your week’s pay on not too cold beer and watered down whiskey drinks. It was the kind of place that had a second rate DJ on Friday nights and third rate bands on Saturday nights. It was the kind of place with long lines at the bathroom and a haze of cigarette smoke (showing my age here) over the dance floor. In short, it was the kind of place that was the source of many good times with friends, many of whom have faded away over time. It’s amazing how we move from being friends who drink together until 3:00 a.m. to friends who occasionally “like” each other’s social media posts. If friendships of youth vanish it stands to reason that the places, those dive bars, would vanish too. There were many nights spent at Dreams with Brad, Chris, Dano, Drew, Ken, and others. Dreams is gone, a fire burnt it to a shell, and I’ve lost touch with most of those friends, two decades can cause people to fade away.
An absence of place (an old dive bar) and friends (moved on or faded away) can make you feel as if a part of life has vanished. But life isn’t a collection of places and proximity. Life is experiences and how we react to them. I went to the upscale bar and grill that has replaced Dreams a few weeks ago. I bought their cheapest beer, took a sip, closed my eyes and realized that the important things will never vanish if you care enough.
Boxcar Coffins, Bloody Marys, and Good Times
Brimming with Halloween spirit I attended Lockport’s Second Annual Coffin Race a couple weeks back. With my Nikon in one hand and a Bloody Mary in the other (which may account for the quality of some of these pictures) I posted myself on the corner of Hamilton and 10th and took a few snapshots and quite a few sips (there was more than one Bloody Mary involved). What follows is a bit of what happened.
Little did I know we were about to be pelted with an assortment of Halloween candies thrown by the racers.
‘Rum Runners’ chasing the ‘Lockport Police.’
Starting to wonder if I had one Bloody Mary too many?
When these racers veered off course I wondered if they were sipping Bloody Marys too?
Never thought I’d see a bunch of Killer Bees pushing a coffin to victory.
The Lockport Coffin Race was a fun time. There were some great teams with some wildly decorated boxcar coffins.
Driving to the battle.
Ressting before battle.