Watching time pass

Since I started photographing signage and locations I've begun to notice a disturbing trend. Sometimes, but hardly always, after I photograph a place it goes out of business. Sometimes I go to photograph a place after learning that it is going out of business because I feel for some reason or another that I have to document and try to preserve the memory of our changing landscape. It makes me feel a little like an ambulance chaser of signage. 

I have always admired this small "corner" grocery store about 2 blocks from my apartment. From the signage at the top of the building I would say that it is a family owned business that has been around for 50 or 60 years. They only carry the staples: milk, bread, cereal, candy, soup, etc. No fancy vegan or organic items, just the basics. Every time I go there, which has only been a handful of times since I moved in to my place a little over 2 years ago, there's the same elderly gentleman behind the counter, listening to local talk radio. The shelves are stocked immaculately. Everything is perfectly faced, straight as an arrow. It was like walking back in time when I entered, which felt good to me. I'd grab what I needed, go up to the counter and pay. He doesn't take credit; the fees are too high, he said. He'd package up my purchase, and then pull on a rope behind the counter that he had on a pulley system that was connected to the front door. The door would swing open, and I could walk out without having to grab the door. An automatic door before automatic doors were invented, no doubt. 

Last week I noticed that the little "open" tent sign that would be propped out front on the sidewalk every morning wasn't there. Earlier this week I saw a freezer being loaded up onto a truck, the elderly man standing behind it. Today I walked past the windows with my dog and peered inside, bracing for what I had expected. There was very little left of the store. All of the product and most of the shelving was gone. There were a few fixtures left, but not much. It had been all but gutted. My heart sank.

There had been no big "going out of business" hoopla. No closing announcements, not even signage on the door. Just here one day, gone the next. And as I walked past today I realized that a few months ago I decided that I needed to photograph this amazing place that seemed to have been frozen in time. I never got the courage to ask the owner if I could take a photo with my camera, so I snuck a photo in the back of the store with my iPhone. I really wish I would have just asked so I would have more and better photos. And now it's gone. And I wonder if somehow my documenting it made it happen, since it's happened to me before. It's a preposterous thought, but it still makes me wonder.