So said JFK. The man knew what he was talking about.
When I went to my new doctor's office last Wednesday, I found myself riding through a neighborhood I haven't seen in years, since my mother died in autumn 2012. I used to spend a lot of time waiting there, as I made the connection between the bus and train, en route for a Sunday afternoon visit. I can recall specific books I was reading as I sat outside, weather permitting, on the steps beside the open-air train shelter.
When the weather didn't permit -- and in Chicagoland, that was really more often than not -- I killed time and avoided the cold or wet or wind at either Arby's or Burger King. There was also a very nice 24/7 coffee shop with an extensive menu of surprisingly good food that's still there, but if I could afford that I could afford a cab instead of public transportation. So usually it was Arby's or Burger King.
They're both gone! Not closed.
Gone.
Arby's was completely renovated and is now a pancake house. I'm curious as to how it looks inside, as I think it's a little small for a sit-down restaurant.
Burger King is now rubble. There was an early morning fire in 2013 and extensive damage was done
to the roof. Apparently the fast-food chain decided it wasn't worth repairing it to reopen and the building has come down.
My little world of heading over to my mother's every other Sunday to chat with her and play Scrabble with my little nephew is gone. My mother's dead. My nephew is in high school, with a neck beard and a girlfriend and a full plate of adolescent problems. The quick serve restaurants where I hung out, used the restroom and waited for the train have disappeared.
It's the slow, unrelenting constancy of change that fills me with wonder and melancholy tonight.
