Since I hate to miss an opportunity to photograph something old and rusty, I made a point to stop in Brookport Sunday night to photograph the old water tower before its Monday demolition. I played the Mother's Day card, and my family waited patiently in the car while I snapped several shots. And then, as I drove through Brookport Monday morning on my way to a funeral, I stumbled upon all of the demolition action. Fortunately, I had a little extra time, so I pulled over and stayed as long as I could. Dotted on the street corners, close to the barricades, were several people watching the action.
When you grow up in a small town, you often complain that nothing changes, but the truth is there is comfort in the sameness of your surroundings. The buildings, the people, your schools. All of those things that are a part of the structure of your childhood days. To the residents of a town that lost so much in a recent tornado, it must be sad to watch one of their community icons come down, as evidenced by the crowd and the poem recently written on one leg of the tower.