About five miles south of Knobite Corner, just off the northbound lanes, there stands a ruin: all that remains of a once-thriving music venue. The building began life as a country store, and later, for some years, served as a home for a couple of bands (of which my brother was a member) that held dances it in on Friday and Saturday nights.
It burned to the ground a few years ago. Only a few support poles and some rubble show where it stood.
My niece, Amanda, took this picture of it today, and through the magic (it’s magic to me, anyway) of computerized photo processing changed it to this starkly beautiful image. In turn, the image reminded me of a song recorded in the 1970s by C. W. McCall.
McCall’s song laments the passing of a western mining town and its lively dance halls, but some of its imagery could equally apply to these fire-blackened stubs.
. . .the music is only a mem’ry
And the dancing is dust on the floor. . .
. . .once there was singing
and once there was song. . .
The dance hall is silent and empty
the banjos don’t play anymore. . .