Windows into the Past

 

In my wanderings, I will roam through some of the small towns.  Seldom do I travel the Interstate any more.  I prefer the slower pace of the old two lane highway.  Many I have driven before, now I see things I used to fly past. 

I put some extra time into my trips now so I can pause for a bit at some of the more interesting things. 

Many of the smaller towns are fading, less farms and ranches to support the communities and the with the Interstate, people whiz on down the road.  Many building sit empty, ghosts of another era now walk the floors, open the doors. 

 

 

Other days, they were active little hubs, people came and went.  Now they are collectors of ghostly webs spun from the past.

 

Sometimes these old buildings get a new life.  An out of towner sees one and wants it or sees an opportunity.  Occasionally it is a retiree that likes to fix things up.  A small section gains new life and old falling apart sections gain a new look. 

Then the new owner moves on or passes on and the new life building fades back into the past again. 

Sometimes it is hope faded.  A vision came to fruition soon to fade.  Empty the building sits, reminder of a hopes that was not shared.  There is a lure of country life.  There is also a harsh side of the romantic notions.  Too many people see nothing and pass by, pausing not to savor the country. 

Many a dream sits dimly in repose.  Days of different life, lived at a different pace.  The siren song of the big city drawing the masses.  Listen to the ghosts talk.  hear the dreams lived out, fading into oblivion. 

New desires and wants cover over the old.  Wanting the new, buries the past. 

I trundle down the road, capturing moments, freezing them into pixels.  Later times, I return to see vacancies.  My memories are all I see. 

The Towns of Ghosts

 

The Great Depression left lots of empty shells on the prairie.  Towns boomed around the westward migration and the immigration wave of the late 1800’s into the 1920’s.  During the Roaring 20’s people were living high and fast.  It was prohibition and speakeasies, the flapper girls and gangsters.  Money was plentiful and easy to come by.  Self indulgence was the mantra of the day. 

Then came the crash of 1929, life was to change like no one could of froe seen.  People were going hungry, no jobs.  Dreams that had been built were being shuttered and left, abandoned.  Some small communities disappeared and are but a reminder on old time maps.  A few hung in through the 30’s only to decline with the coming modern age of the automobile.

Along some highways are reminders of these past days.  Small communities hang on but the shells of other days sit empty.  No longer is main street a bustling burg.  People seldom stroll down the sidewalks to go shopping.  Here one can walk the median stipe of main and not meet a car.

With time permitting, I like to drive off the beaten path and drive the streets of these little towns.  It offers a glimpse back into the past that has been glossed over by many or ignored.

This neat old building had been a grocery store at one time.  There were not supermarkets back then.  From the side one can see the living quarters on the second floor where the store owner lived.  Wasn’t much long distance commuting back then.  With the two brick chimneys, it indicates that there was stove of some type, wood or coal probably.  The building was probably built around 1900’s.  There was no electricity back then or natural gas on the prairie.

On the sides can be seen the additions as the shop was expanded.  Maybe another business was opened next door.  It is fascinating to speculate on what when on in this little town 100 years ago.

On the roof one can see the modern conveniences added over time,  The utility lines for electricity, a television antenna and maybe central heating.

Today it sits vacant, falling to the ravishes of time.  With the curtain and shades on the window it appears someone may of bought it and used it for a residence.  I have seen some people move out from the big city and buy places like this dirt cheap and fix them up.  It would make a nice large spacious home, great studio.  Not much racket and noise in these small towns. 

In silence the grand store sits awaiting its fate.

Building Murals

 

Climbing up the scaffolding I would watch the painter briefly as he scampered around, admiring his work in progress.  The wall was being transformed.  No longer would it be a mundane building sitting on the corner of Main and the old highway.  The spirit of the community was being placed on the wall.  Soon the figures of the towns heritage would look out across the way.

In my travels I have run across many a mural painted on a variety of structures.  This mural here is on the side of a store, AKA chocolate factory.  It depicts the early days of the the town when it came into existence in the late 1800’s.

Old Colorado City sits at the base of Pikes Peak and here is where the gold ore from the mountain was processed.  It was a rough and tumble town of the gold rush.  Businesses prospered as the mill workers and freight handlers have lots of disposable income. 

One side of the street was the goody tow shoe side, the other was the side of ill repute.  Gun fights were not unusual but it was mostly bare knuckles in the saloon and alleys.  To the lusty side would go the merchants and bankers but not by the sidewalk.  Instead tunnels were built under the street so the bankers…. etc. could discreetly go over to the saloon or house of ill repute and indulge in the businesses over there.

In the 1860’s Colorado City was the territorial capital of Colorado.  Today it is a part of Colorado Springs and one of many tourist traps around the area.

Like many tourist traps it has it beauty and this recent mural has a certain attraction and reflects the old village pretty good.

 

Are there any murals in your area that have been recently painted?

All Clock Eyed

 

Not sure who to talk with but I wish the politicians would stop messing with my clock.  This day is one of my least favorites.  The spring change I even like less. 

Believe I’m gonna write my local congressman and tell him to get the political types out of my clock.  No matter how one looks at it, time does not vary.  It is us little peoples that get messed by clock eyed politico's.

Now where is clock smashing mallet?

Was reading that some people are upset about businesses making money on the clean up after the east coast storm.  They think the government should be doing it.  Where business is working at clean up they are out performing the government workers…… hum wonder why.

One day a few people may understand where taxes come from…… profits.  Without businesses there would be not much to tax and there would be no wealth for the government to confiscate.

Basically if one is not a capitalist, they are a communist.  The two forms of economic distribution.  Yup there are variations but if one is against capitalism ….. what are they for?

Now if I could get my clock to stop falling all over itself I might go for a ride. 

Hop in, go see the country side, take some pictures, wander the grassland, listen to some tunes and have cold lunch.

Hope you are having a great one.

Small Towns

 

No longer am I in a hurry to get there.  Now I plan my trips with some slack time to tour some of the small towns I pass through.  There are a variety of buildings.  I like to capture pictures of them and there are other things that are unique to that town.

State of neglect is the companion of many of these burgs.  Businesses are gone as are the residents.

The old storefronts line the highway.  Most boarded up and awaiting……….?  Some look like they came from the south, others from another era.

Thriving businesses they were.  Serving travelers, tourists and the wanderer.  Travel changes, people flock to the super speedways of the Interstate, bypassing these little villages.

A few have tried to find a new life for them but to little avail.

Wonder where those gates led to, was it a plantation a large business or maybe a mansion.  Today it is overgrown with weeds and care is neglected.  What could the story be, a dream gone bad?

A southwestern style home, gated and protected from unwanted visitors.

Time moves on, these little towns struggle to survive.  The Siren song of the big city calls their children.

 

-----30-----

Showtime

 

The end of the year means the colors of fall are bursting out.  Leaves will be filling up gutters n baskets.  Bright colors on the wall, gripping the fence, fluttering across the roads.

Soon the rods and custom cars will roll back into their cocoons for the winter.  With the fluffy white stuff on the high mountain peaks brings the gravel and salt.  The bane of the meticulous car jockey.

These show are mostly Ford and Chevy jalopies but mixed in among them are some to the beat of a different drummer.

The passion of winter, days gone by, memories relived, sock hoppin, DJ belchin, tunes palyin, it was a different time years ago.

Take a day, rewind the calendar, yearn for a simpler time when happiness was cruisin.

Support Counter Intelligence

 

Out in a little town, in the middle of nowhere, close to somewhere is Mama’s store.  Here is a collection of old stuff, for she rents space to a variety of people.  Even the store is old.

In the old days of saloons and pool halls this shop thrived.  Pool balls made great missiles to be launched at the enemy.  Even the ceiling had it’s stories.  There and here was the occasional bullet hole. 

 

The clientele has changed, it is now mostly the wives of the pool players that wander the aisles. No longer to the six shooters thunder forth, or dodge the lost pool ball.

The floor can still be heard shuffling some soft shoe.  The hair from the barber getting mixed into the floor.  His chair long gone, but a memory.

The bar, cabinets and stools still await the thirsty traveler.  One can belly up to the bar.

I  stop in for the iced latte, maybe a shake just for  the ambiance.  Walk the aisles, hear the memories whisper to me.

Main Street

 

Small Town America has its main street and each is unique yet very similar.  Building style in the Americas was brought from Europe and as the people moved west they brought what they were familiar with.

The highway would divide the town and usually there was some railroad tracks next to the road.  With the changes in style and moving to the burbs, style has changed.  In the old neighborhoods of the city and out in the small towns the simple style can still be  seen.  There are no sleek and shiny buildings in these place, well usually.

Main street is maybe the highway or it is a cross street to the highway.  Sometimes main street would be built around a town square, here the roads intersected and there would be a bandstand in the middle.

In my roaming I go through many small rural towns.  Time permitting I stop and take a few pictures of Main Street.

The old hotels that are still standing are rare catches and made for interesting architecture.  Pause and imagine the business that was transacted in the lobbies of these grand old buildings.  Here is where the traveling peddler would stay.  These small towns were important to him. 

Nearby would be his customers, the clothing shop, hardware store, drug store or maybe the bank.  I would love to have the wall of these old buildings talk to me.

Some have moved to these small towns and bought the old empty stores and made them into nice homes.  Put some sweat equity into them.

Journey down the back roads, what is the next cross road reveal.  Is there another adventure awaiting.

Hope you are having a great week.  Winter is knocking on the door here.  Below freezing and snow in the mountains.