McLaughlin Building

I'm going to preface this blog with a poem I wrote the other night.

Walls

If this is a war

Who are the soldiers?

Attending to who's agenda?

All that is left

Is the smell of musty memories

Lingering amidst the landfill bound rubble.

If walls could talk

Their voices would have

Just been obliterated.

This battle is over,

But the war has just begun.

I'm not sure why the destruction of this building has impacted me like it has.  After the fire, and prior to its destruction, I couldn't help but pause every time I walked by. Walking down Connell Rd at night since the fire has been rather heart-wrenching with the lack of light emitting from the building.  It makes me feel, for lack of a better term, empty.  

Now it is but a pile of rubble. This could happen to any number of the old, unkempt buildings in Woodstock, or any place with any kind of history. In this economic downturn, it's hard to justify spending dollars on the upkeep of history when people are without work; however, can we, as a society, afford not to?  

The heart of our town looks like a war zone.  It breaks my heart.