On one of my trips around the county this past fall, I found myself in Antioch. Well, barely in Antioch. I wanted to get the water tower on Rt. 173, and a shot of the town sign not far from it.
The sign stands next to an undeveloped piece of land, beckoning me to explore.
Inside, among trees that didn’t seem to be very old, photos appeared. First the trees themselves made for interesting targets.
Then, looking around, individual scenes announced themselves, almost as if they were set up just for me.
A collection of bald tires and rusted cans.
A stack of shredding shingles.
And then there was the concrete chunks. Lots and lots of concrete chunks. All piled on the tree line next to a marsh full of cattails.
But not in one big pile – a bunch of smaller ones. I saw one, then another, and beyond it, more, running down as far as I could see, or wanted to walk.
Some of them were curved, shallow curves, smooth on the inside and heavily pebbled on the outside. There was also evidence of metal strips embedded in the surface, though for what purpose, I couldn’t guess.
Were they the outer facade of some long-gone building? Pushed into a vacant lot in the days before wetland protection? There were some grommeted holes in one piece, offset as if to support neon lettering at one time. Maybe there was a building on the site of the car lot next door, one of those that were cool at one time, with the pebbled surface and curved corners, but it was in the way and got pushed out.
It just made me wonder, both about their history and their future. The lot is for sale, but I can’t imagine the clean-up of the site will be easy or cheap.
There was a lot of concrete…