I saw the b&w picture of the gas pump on Robert's blog last week, and it brought back a lot of memories, though the one I knew was in almost that same state of unuse.And the Masonic Lodge---when the top half of that sign was new, and the vines still uncrept, I can see and smell that group on a hot Summer meeting-night, conducting their business, both Lodge and BUSINESS.They'd have put on fresh short-sleeved white shirts and picked up their hats with that one-finger-in-the-point grip, setting them firmly on their heads and smoothing the brim as they went out the door, their clothes still fragrant with Supper's frying chicken.And the smoke!! We'd all choke on the stairs, let alone in the meeting rooms, as they spent their evening in the rituals and the solemnity of their Guild, overlaid with the float of blue haze. And when you find the person with the key, (and you will)---when the door is creaked open upon that room of mysteries and oaths, I would imagine that a lingering air of secrecy, along with the whiff of Camels and Luckies, will spill out into the day.
Marty, your beautiful and thought-provoking photo tour of Rodney has inspired me to go see it for myself sometime. I especially liked the story about Charles, and I love the way you captured the mud puddles in the last photo of this post.