On the last day of a self imposed "just relax" vacation (05/29/13) I found myself in Hesston, KS getting my camera serviced with an hour to kill. I've been to Hesston a few times and it appears to be a very respectable and friendly community, they have a Subway. I happened to walk past an antique shop on Main Street and those that know me know that,,, well, I spent the hour in the antique shop. Realization struck me like a bolt of lightning WHY I go to these dimly lit, musty smelling places.

I always told myself it was my interest in the past because I absolutely love history but I've realized it's basically a journey to monitor the goods that are offered to take note of when "MY" childhood toys start showing up for others to gaze upon and wonder how any normal human child could pass the time with such dull, unfulfilling and basically boring articles of entertainment. Well, its starting.

For some reason the whole situation reminded me of my dad telling me that they played "kick the can". Looking back, it took me a couple minutes at the time in my early age, I eventually realized they were just kicking a can around. I thought "what the hell"!!

I propose that there should be a "No goods are allowed in an antique shop unless it is at least 50 years old (at least where people can see it)" rule. This would give me a very small amount of time to apprehend and accept the fact of the inclusion of said goods from "MY" generation without the equivalent of a slap in the face as I received (and also to explain what "goods" are to the current generation).

These thoughts of my childhood (and a recent picture) brought me to a particular day when my family took a trip to the big city,,, Wichita. What prompted the visit I cant remember, but we drove by the building in the picture below. This is a parking garage in downtown Wichita. It's no longer used and hasn't been for years. My memory is that one of us kids asked what that building was (you have to admit, it still looks kinda cool!). My parents answered it was a parking garage and after some negotiating it was decided that my dad would drive us to the top and back. Sweet!! The experience reminded me of Pike's Peak after I had eventually experienced both. While driving down the ramps I was scared shitless thinking that brakes were going to fail (I think my mom was screaming this), we would go over the edge, etc. It was so cool!

I hate to see small pieces of history become dilapidated and abandoned. It feels like a little part of my experience is gone, at least physically. For those that were able to experience the vortex of this experience just this shot will make you smile.

Chris

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