I am fascinated by abandoned places. I have tendency to wonder about things anyway and closed and abandoned sites just beg for explanation or supposition. Even incomplete places are intriguing. When I was in high school, they were putting up a brand-new school out of town not far from my house. Once it took on shape, it was irresistible for us. Eventually we found a way into the skeletal structure. It was dark in there, since we had to wait until the construction workers were done for the day. We were crepuscular creatures, operating best at dusk and dawn so it was no real inconvenience to us.

            It was great. To this day, nearly 50 years later, I can bring up the image of the swimming pool frame-up. We wandered the gypsum-dusted concrete floors amid steel joists and studs (and probably asbestos dust). Although it was new rather than old we had the feeling of treading about King Tut’s tomb or some such mythical labyrinth. And we were not alone- other groups of teen-aged intrepids were about the place, though we tried to avoid each other’s territory so as to retain the feeling of exploration. It was an exciting night, one to remember. I must confess that we were, however somewhat frequent visitors to the after-hours school buildings. This was long before the advent of security cameras and burglar alarms. Our small town didn’t even employ a police officer. We were not what you would call vandals at any rate. We just liked roaming the dark, empty halls. I admit we pilfered the occasional ice cream sandwich but that was about the extent of our breaking and entering activities.

            When I was elementary school age, there was an “attraction” near my family camp called the Woodland Museum. It was, indeed, in the woods. There were trails and animal displays and buildings and dioramas related to the Leatherstocking Tales. If I am not mistaken the famous Anheuser-Busch Clydesdales were present there, as well. It was right up my alley. But the place didn’t last and was closed and abandoned. Decades later, I had occasion to be driving along the area with a friend and saw an old sign identifying the place. We stopped, and in another of my more surreptitious episodes, explored the abandoned park. The grass paths were long gone, but the paved walkways still led throughout the grounds. Pioneer plants were peeking up through the cracks already planning to obscure the past. The decrepit buildings and crumbled carriage roads were telling the tale of the place’s demise, leaving me with speculation and a sort of nostalgic sadness.

            When I was in high school, my considerably older (or so it seemed then) brother returned from the army and lived with us briefly. During that time, he occasionally dated a girl who lived on the nearby air base. The base itself loomed large in the minds of all us kids in the area. It was huge, with acres of base housing, many runways that accommodated the frequent B-52s and other aerial behemoths that were a common sight in our skies. It was a rather secure place and my brother had to pass by security gates to pick up his date. We heard rumors that the place was high on the Russian “hit list” and always kind of kept a lookout for mushroom clouds.

            The Cold War ended, the base was one selected for closure and the Air Force just kinda up and left. The place remained empty but off limits for decades. Then, in recent years it became an industrial and business park. The new tenants employ thousands and the military once again has a presence albeit more technological than gladiatorial. I can now walk on trails and artparks where once stood the housing units my brother visited. There are occasional sidewalks to nowhere and mysterious metal shapes protruding from the grounds. The airfield is still used, in part by a local college teaching aircraft repair. We sometimes see drones. It’s not abandoned but so changed in mode and manner that it never fails to trigger memories.