Photo by Michelle Perich
*Johnstown, PA Tribune-Democrat, August 12, 2012
as "NDIC: Memories permeate the silence"
Copyright © 2012 by Ralph F. Couey
The room is empty, and somehow seems much larger. The lights are off and the only illumination
is the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. But the most profound impression is the
lifeless silence that permeates the space.
There was once life here, the noise of machinery and the hum
of electronics. Mostly, though, it was
the sound of voices. In this now-silent
space, the delightful sound of laughter was heard. There were low voices engaged in earnest
discussion, louder ones raised in passionate debate. It was the orchestra of dedicated people
engaged in work that was important and vital.
A building is…just a building. It is an amalgamation of concrete and steel,
plastic and fabric, wiring and piping.
Some are grand and glorious designs, others decidedly pedestrian. But the building itself is never as important
as what goes on inside.
People give it life.
The floors bear the constant tread of footsteps, hurrying to
and fro. Walls echo with the vibrant
sounds of human activity. The building
now has an identity; a name that presents to the world the nature of the work
that goes on inside.
But it wasn’t just the work.
Life went on here as well.
People came, some from far away and became part of a larger family. Friendships were forged, love was found. People married, had children, and shared the
drama of their lives together.
And for some, this building was the last place before they
passed on to another more glorious life.
Joy and grief was shared here, as was triumph and
tragedy. Achievement was recognized and
celebrated, and brought wider fame to this place. Visitors arrived with skepticism and
cynicism, but left in admiration and wonder.
But good things and good times do not have much survival
value in the world we live in. Behind
the scenes, plots were hatched and carried out that would undo much of the good
that had been done. After some twenty
years, a series of events unfolded that ended the work, emptied the building,
and sent the people scattering across the country, most never to return.
Now, the building sits empty. Where once stood a city of cubicles and desks
is now a sea of grey carpet, spotted here and there with stains from a careless and long-forgotten cup of coffee. Cables hang from the ceiling and the
walls. Break rooms that hummed with dispensers
and microwave ovens and warmed with friendship and laughter, sit empty and
silent. The cork boards that once held
announcements of bake sales, car ads, and apartments for rent have been
removed, the square of unfaded paint the only sign of their existence.
The entrance, lined in walnut and manned by armed guards who
knew every single person by face, name, and personality is wide open. No longer is the possession of a card
required for entry, the sign of membership in a very limited club. A small gym was once filled with the machines
of fitness and people working hard to stave off the burden of encroaching age.
Outside, life has changed as well. Fewer people walk the streets during the
day. The restaurants noticeably less
crowded. Suddenly, there seems to be an
abundance of parking spaces. Homes and
apartments sit vacant with signs rusting in the front yards, vainly attracting
buyers who may never come. Friends have
been parted, the ties of school, church and community sundered.
But this is a town that has survived. The past years of floods and economic
devastation didn’t defeat the town or its people. One more empty building downtown certainly
won’t spell a doom any more certain than before. Life here will go on, much the same as it has
before. Those who remain will glance
toward the big building and remember that something important had once been
there. But that memory, like so many
others, will fade into the backdrop of the encroaching years, as the passage of
time puts space between what was and what will become.
For the 300 people who were a part of the work that went on
in that building, the memories will stay.
Through the miracle of 21st century social networking, there
is no longer such a thing as a remote location.
They will all stay in touch. The
friendships will remain. Years, even
decades from now, some will meet again on a street or at a conference in some
far-off locale. The memories will begin
to flow and for a few joyful moments they will once again remember the work
they did, the friendships, the experiences, the stories, funny, ironic, and
tragic that told the story of this one chapter in the book of life.
And they will remember how they shared a bench in Central Park on a sunny fall day; a time and a place that
although far away, remains so very close within the human heart.
5 comments:
Ralph, very sentimental article. Hope you are both adapting well to the new environs. You and Cheryl need to visit!
The following song was playing on TuneWiki as I read your article. I think both certainly speak for us all...
~Doc
"Wanted Dead or Alive"
Songwriters: Jon Bon Jovi, Richard Sambora
It's all the same, only the names will change
Everyday it seems we're wasting away
Another place where the faces are so cold
I'd drive all night just to get back home
I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days
And the people I meet always go their separate ways
Sometimes you tell the day
By the bottle that you drink
And times when you're alone, all you do is think
I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted (wanted) dead or alive
Wanted (wanted) dead or alive
Oh! And I ride!
I'm A cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted (wanted) Dead or alive
I walk these streets, a loaded six string on my back
I play for keeps, 'cause I'm not coming back
I been everywhere, and I'm standing tall
I've seen a million faces an I'm rockin' on
I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted (wanted) dead or alive
I'm a cowboy, I got the night on my side
I'm wanted (wanted) dead or alive
And I ride, dead or alive
I still drive, dead or alive
Dead or alive....
[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/b/bon+jovi/wanted+dead+or+alive_20022260.html ]
Wonderful, just wonderful. I really miss the place.
Very well written. It's a shame how vindictive and misinformed politicians as well as generally incompetent "leaders" worked in concert to destroy years of hard work. Better yet, how those horrible entities disrupted the lives of so many families. I sincerely hope that any future private and/or public sector endeavors of those responsible for the center's closure fail miserably.
Very well written. It is too bad that most people will never know the important work that was done in that building. It is almost criminal that incompetence at the highest levels of the government allowed a very cost effective program that was actually accomplishing something to fail. All the blame for this failure can correctly and rightfully be placed on the senior managers of NDIC. I really miss the people I worked with and the job I was doing but I definitly don't miss the management or the agency. Take care Ralph. It was great working with you.
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