"I went back to Ohio but my city was gone..."

We lived in Cleveland for 23 years before we moved to Jamestown. But before that, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, I grew up in Ashtabula, a Lake Erie port city that was once also a manufacturing center. Until it wasn't anymore, and became another notch in the Rust Belt.

I had an occasion (a funeral) to return to my hometown on Saturday, and couldn't get Chrissie Hynde out of my head. (Way. To. Go. Ohio.)  My high school is gone. All that remains is a grassy field. At least they had the decency to leave the tall, stately trees that once framed the front walkway.

The old neighborhood is riddled with vacant lots where houses used to stand. My childhood home is still there, but barely recognizable, now surrounded by a chain link fence.

Few of the old businesses are still around. Out beyond the (westside) Saybrook Plaza area, which was hurt when someone had the bright idea to construct an eastside shopping mall in the early 1990's, something like a ghost town remains. The McDonalds that stood there for years (the very first one to open in Ashtabula, back when burgers cost 15 cents) is just gone. Gas stations, bowling alley, cinema complex, other businesses -- vacant, boarded up, abandoned, looking ready to dry up and blow away. These days, that mall doesn't seem to be in great shape either. Relics of the 20th Century. 

Is this our future in America? Will we discard everything that we deem past its expiration date, seeking newer, bigger, brighter, and shinier, until our entire past is gone and forgotten? Or will more communities adopt the repair, reuse, recycle, repurpose mantra and show some mindfulness and respect for human history, the limits of the planet, the needs and sensibilities of others around us, and those who will come after us?