It's not the end of the
world, but there is a change in the air, and I'm not completely sure of what it
means. A fire broke out in the east village yesterday, wiping out three
buildings, more history vanishing before our eyes.
Certain eras breed this
kind of change, where we see the face of the world we knew converted into
something new, and many times, alien.
I spent well over two
decades in Secaucus, first as a fotomac, and later as baker and finally as a
journalist. But even prior to that, I passed through that town on my way to and
from Manhattan
But even during that
incarnation, I saw them raze the donut place and replace it will a string of
stores.
The state, of course, made
significant changes when they altered the path of Route 3, and so steered a
course that avoided the center of town -- as was the case when I went to new york city
And the mayor at that
time, bargained to rebuild this one time home of pig farms into an outlet and
shopping mall mecca, but keeping these things on the perimeter of the town so
that deceptively, this world never seemed to change.
Fundamentally it did.
Tens of thousands of people came and went daily to and from the buildings that
were not old Secaucus, while old Secaucus went on living with the illusion of
sameness. They even installed a gate to block the only direct road from
warehouse/outlet section to the residential section so as to maintain the
fiction.
During the late 1970s and
early 1980s, I often drove down the western spur of the New Jersey Turnpike to
see my family in Toms River, and so from a distance I saw the changes that
could not be seen so easily close up, the rise of towers along the western
border, the loss of icons like the drive in movie theater and the demolition of
the Peter Pan Motel. I saw the last farm vanish as the city fathers grew
ashamed of their past and sought to remodel their town as a bedroom community
for New York
But eventually, the heart
of the town would get affected, and for me, the loss of the Plaza Diner became
symbolic of the lost heart of the Secaucus I knew. When the Acme closed, I knew
Secaucus had changed so fundamentally, it wasn’t same place I had come to
admire, despite all the political rhetoric about taking it back. Some things
can’t be restored.
Recently I noticed that
the old Ideal Bar had changed hands again – the one time last testament to the
string of nightclubs and taverns that had once populated the town. The town
closed down many of them over the years, but this one held on – finally, like a
number of other even newer institutions, making its way into a history book of
people’s memories.
I guess this is the way
it is for every place.
And why people flee their
homes sometimes to avoid seeing their world change.
Remarkably, little has
actually changed where I grew up, although my family fled the old house fearing
the worst.
A sad testament to our
lives, when we do not know which is right, to stay or go, to embrace change or
to resist it.
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