Sorta Boom (no dynamite was involved in the making of this post)

Yesterday morning, my parents’ church was torn down to give way for a bigger, awesomer, more churchier church. They have well over 2,000 members now and that church was constructed to hold 400 (which, in 1948, seemed like a huge sum and was way more space than was necessary), so even with three services, they were struggling to seat people comfortably and safely. I went with the parents and Satanski to see the demolition, and it was a pretty interesting experience. I attended that church for my entire childhood, and spent countless hours with a lot of the people I saw at the demolition. I’m no longer a member there, but I have mostly positive memories of the congregation and the times I had there. I’ll admit, it was nice to be fawned over and to have people tell me how nice I looked and how great it was to see me. Weird, since I don’t often think about a lot of those people, but nice all the same. I do go to church every now and then, and it’s nice to know that there’s a place where people think of you, miss you, and wish you well. I wondered what kind of reaction I’d have to the demolition, but I have to say that I really don’t feel anything at all. Some people did cry, but to me, it’s just a building, and the congregation is staying together while it’s being built, so it’s not exactly the end of an era. It’s probably wrong to bring baseball into this discussion, but that’s also why I don’t care so much that Shea Stadium is getting thrown over for something younger and prettier. Actually, now that I think about it, I might mind that more, because it will soon cost me more than it already does to get into a Mets game, and I’ll probably still end up leaving with that same sense of disappointment that I’m feeling right now.

The first thing the demolition crew did was to remove the church’s cornerstone. Or, they tried to remove the cornerstone. What was supposed to start at 7:30 and take no more than an hour started at 8:30 and took at least three hours. Apparently the chuch wasn’t built by professionals, and it seems that they overcompensated and made sure that everything was in there real good. That rings true; when one of my  college classes visited the Habitat for Humanity headquarters in Georgia, the person who with whom we met told us that Hurricane Andrew showed that HfH homes were more likely to withstand hurricanes than homes built by professionals, because (motivated, but largely untrained) volunteers always used more nails than was strictly necessary and therefore built sturdier homes. A couple of guys were still working on that at the front of the church while the rest of the crew starting knocking in the roof and the back of the church. I had been told that there would be dynamite, or some other explosive agent used, but that turned out to be a dirty lie. They just used one of those excavator things to keep knocking stuff in. We didn’t stay for the whole thing, because I had to get to work in the afternoon and also watching a building get knocked in doesn’t stay exciting for long, but we were told that, by the time the crew called it a day, only one wall and the front steps remained.