I wonder. I wonder why we have name buildings, bridges, airports and intersections after people. Do we all want to live forever? To never be forgotten? I don't have any answers today just questions. When I worked at the State House they would do endless hours of debate on the merits of naming a bridge or building after some public servant who had died. Now some people where quite admirable and their accomplishments were towards helping the common good. But I often wondered if in 100 years anybody would care or remember those accomplishments when they were standing in line a Joe Blow's DMV building, named in his honor. Now I read the plaques in the hallways of hospitals It usually helps take my mind off why I'm there. I read some of the bricks paid for by donations in somebody's name at the local playgrounds and public gardens. I read the plaques on the park benches and I especially read anything dedicated to a veteran.
I remember a local intersection near the street where I grew up. I was place that I would pass thru on my way to nearly every school that I went to in my youth. I remember growing up hanging around as a young teen on wall across from that intersection. Spending endless hours swapping stories with my friends, playing football in the nearby field or just plan goofing off. We were young not able to drive but there was somebody who lived nearby who did have his license. He was a bit older than the rest of my friends but he was one of the coolest guys around. He had a car ... a bad ass muscle car. It was a 60's Chevy that was not street legal and ran on something other than gasoline. The license plate read "Nitro" and you could hear it for miles around when he would take the occasional ride around the neighborhood before being chased home by the cops. He was a legend to us. He died in Vietnam. The first one that I knew about in the our neighborhood .He name is on a plaque at the earlier mentioned intersection. So every plague has a history and maybe it is worth it sometimes to look at the story behind it.
I remember a local intersection near the street where I grew up. I was place that I would pass thru on my way to nearly every school that I went to in my youth. I remember growing up hanging around as a young teen on wall across from that intersection. Spending endless hours swapping stories with my friends, playing football in the nearby field or just plan goofing off. We were young not able to drive but there was somebody who lived nearby who did have his license. He was a bit older than the rest of my friends but he was one of the coolest guys around. He had a car ... a bad ass muscle car. It was a 60's Chevy that was not street legal and ran on something other than gasoline. The license plate read "Nitro" and you could hear it for miles around when he would take the occasional ride around the neighborhood before being chased home by the cops. He was a legend to us. He died in Vietnam. The first one that I knew about in the our neighborhood .He name is on a plaque at the earlier mentioned intersection. So every plague has a history and maybe it is worth it sometimes to look at the story behind it.