We went to GFS this weekend for our usual cart full of frozen veggies and fruit, and once again, I was reminded of what I did not see.
It used to be that I would pull into the parking lot of GFS and look over behind the building next door. And then I would smile. For there, just off University, amidst the hustle and bustle of Peoria life, was a barn. Tucked behind the furniture showroom, it was my secret, (albeit one shared with hundreds of other Peorians who frequent GFS). It was like a surreal painting, but instead of making me feel disjointed or uncertain like so many surreal works of art, it made me feel grounded. Connected with the flow of history. Weathered wood and typical barn architecture cried out that I was putting my roots down into a city that was going somewhere, but knew where it had been.
But now it is gone. Demolished. I’m sure that it was an entirely reasonable decision. I can think of a half dozen reason why to do so. It could turn into a haven for homeless people, rats, or partying teenagers. And surely one would not want to pay for upkeep on a barn that was inefficiently built for any urban use. And yet…
I can’t help thinking that we are too quick to do away with our history in the name of progress. A splash of Peoria piquancy was lost, leaving bland commercial sameness. And so, as I load my 6 pounds of baby carrots into the van, I sadly avert my eyes from that muddy, empty spot over yonder. And I hope we learn before it is too late that Peoria’s unique flavor should be treasured, and need not be sacrificed to appease the god of Economic Growth. Demolition can’t be undone.
