Whenever I drive the streets of Sheldon I can’t help but feel sadness for the loss of the old town. Town hall provided the venue for ball games, class plays, carnivals, and more. Those of us who played on “scrub” teams used to run back to the school to shower after a game and then run back in the cold with ice crystals in our hair to watch the A squad. The old schoolhouse has now fallen that so many of us attended for 12 years. The bank building on the corner was always a welcome site with its classy architecture. Of course Newton’s building next to city hall went, and I’m afraid the two brick buildings left standing will fall, too. All that is left will be tin.
I wrote this poem in five-syllable lines upon hearing of city hall’s fall -
October 10, 2005 -
Bewildered ghosts rose
amid bird-flurry
the day city hall
fell. Heavy steel hands
punched and clawed the bricks
until they succumbed.
Standing there, watching,
one could hear ancient
amalgams of echoes
choking in the dust
as the roof and walls
fell. With their sanctum
destroyed they whispered
their final good-byes.
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