Marion (The Big Nothing: Conclusion)

I came back to a town that I no longer recognize. 

Blocks torn down, houses raised, whole intersections completely redone. 

I stood on mountains of dirt that didn't exist and walked through neighborhoods that looked emptier than before.

The middle school has a completely different playground and the neighbor tore out the old treehouse in his backyard that was just besides the little track field. 

It looks small now. 

Huge air conditioning systems hung off the side of the building like a sort of metallic growth; it looked strange on the old brick walls. 

Not right. 

The feeling is uneasy; almost as if you couldn't be there.

Deep inside you knew that you couldn't be there anymore. That you were trespassing.

I could feel the memories rushing in. They all came in at once. 

The long school nights with my little radio blasting 88.3 KCCK Jazz while on the swing set. 

I found myself running out on that track field, gym shorts and crappy t shirt, I had just out ran the cocky middle schooler kid and had the whole school cheering for me. 

I kept running after the finish line and, when I finally slowed down, I struggled to catch my breath from the exertion and the excitement; someone gave me a bottle of water and a chocolate granola bar.

I can still feel it's hallways, they were like an awkward amoeba of a period before puberty; completely filled with people and still not knowing where the stupid classroom was. 

It was a sort of mad rush to finish something that always felt beyond your grasp with each end of the school year.

High school was worse. 

In middle school, all you had to worry about was getting to high school, but once HS came in, it became about identity and the future no one ever really told you about. 

You started recognizing the social status of yourself, the importance of the opposite sex, economics, the world, history, philosophy...yadda, yadda, yadda until it all ended with you looking around and asking yourself ''what had just happened?''. 

What was the...

My eyes were starting to burn into the empty track field until I blinked again. 

The black pavement. 

Reality.

We bled back into suburbia before people could emerge out of the school and try to slap charges on us.

We passed rows of the endless houses, picket fences, mowed lawns; they blended into the nameless neighborhoods and the empty streets. 

They were enigmatic. 

They never felt real until you saw their children in the classrooms and their parents at the bars. 

Halloween gave an almost ethereal look into the suburban lifestyle as it wasn't strange to find a family having a bonfire out on their driveway or their houses filled with people and boozed up adults that left the children to answer the doors for trick or treaters. 

Sometimes you could even see inside of the local rich kid's house to check out how they lived.

We passed these slightly familiar streets with a mild bewilderment; I couldn't believe just how much had changed. 

The Salvation Army was gone and the long empty field across it was filled with a new hotel and roundabouts. 

The town square was getting cleaner, painted with murals, and was slowly looking like the rest of Cedar Rapids; which had been set in motion, more or less, by the current mayor who has promised growth and new building projects since he started.

We turned and decided to go to the Suicide Bridge before it disappeared also.

Here, in Thomas Park, was the hub in between The Inch, Nick, and The Jaffer's houses.

Most of my teenage years were spent walking through it. 

It was a typical summer scene: the playground and splash park were filled with children, the sections with tables were filled with a birthday party, and families were lounging around picnic tables.

Actually..

Now that I think about it. I don't think I've ever seen this many people there on a single day.

From what I remember, it was mostly me walking through an empty park.

Sometimes, you'd see the high school sports teams training or the band kids practicing out by the field. It was always so empty. 

If I had any of group with me, we'd be ranting about school or some other personal drama that fancied us in those times. 

It never felt more than a pathway to a destination.

We got out quickly and headed up the small wooded part of the park. We walked up the big disc golf hill and followed one of the trails to the edge of them. 

I knew that they were building houses just on the other side of the trails but didn't realize the extent of it's progress until we tried getting to the top of the huge hill that made up the area. 

The trail was so overgrown that weeds were up to my chest but I hacked through it until I found myself overlooking someone's yard. 

This used to be it, a large hill, overlooking development and the beginnings of Cedar Rapids. 

I quickly realized that this was the development land and I was feet away from the porch of a 3 story house.

I turned and made my way to the other side of the park where the bridge was.

It stood like it always has; crippled and crumbling to time. 

I trudged up and down it once more. I saw there were more holes but it still stood there with it's graffiti.

I stood on top and looked over the edge and no longer felt a sinking feeling. I didn't feel like I belonged on top here anymore. 

What had remained in this town felt empty and small. 

The town was no longer ours.

I heard the beatings of life here like I had never had before. 

There were more bikes and joggers on the main trail and that meant this place wouldn't last much longer; they're bound to get restless at it's decay.

What was missing? 

What had changed?

I had my answer already but it didn't sink in until I was on top that bridge.

That same week, I spent most of it trying to put together another road trip. 

As far as I was concerned, it wouldn't be a problem, we'd get the Inchmobile up and running, and we'd get everyone together, or, get together whoever was available at the time; but I hadn't fully realized the deterioration of the entire thing as it had started. 

The Inch and The Jaffer have quarreled before, many times, and it would send the group (I, Nick, Jaffer, Inch) inactive for a few months, than it would eventually go back to normal, but it didn't this time. 

There were no longer any excuses to make and there was nothing left to say. Everything besides the group had allowed itself to change and thus led to its demise. 

I hadn't realized this death before because the entire thing had been the death.

The whole series of trips were a beating against death and time. 

It was absentmindedly put together to get the group back, and functioning, as it had been in the days of walking to each other's houses and late night wanderings together. 

These places were a backdrop of the old summers, the memories; things that were just as shells of their former selves as these same places back here were.

Most of the time, the places weren't even there anymore, and the fact is that the land had swallowed it all back up without much noise nor struggle; just the silent arm of time sweeping over it. 

In the same way, I'd return to these old places in this town and point out what had been done there, some backstory, and laugh about it.

It was a secret wish that the town would stay as a trashhole, as I remember it being, so that there was hope I could still show up at one of their doors and go out with plans on the fly and still have a bond of collective experience holding us together but it had become like paint over old light sockets, makeup on a corpse; a garden on top of a cemetery.

It was dead and I couldn't get over it. 

I found myself trudging through these places in order to remember the feelings and thoughts as if I had lost touch with my former self and in a way I definitely have. 

I walked through the decayed corridors expecting to see The Inch, Jaffer, and Nick waiting at the end of the hall for the next adventure. The nostalgia formed its own entire reality that felt more real than what it actually was.

What was the reality?

The reality was that we were a friend group trying to get through adolescence, through the homework, the pointless romantics; our own youthful angst. We became people, some of us more than others, cemented into our own circumstances and situations, so much, that we forgot to move on or never did.

Some of us never left where we started; expecting it all to begin there. 

We never left Marion and I was tired of it. 

The long nights spent walking, watching my friends bike through town, the times spent on roofs, time spent at the local stores, the crappy food eaten at friend's houses, the jokes and conversations; the endless stories. 

I look back at it all and begin to remember that those moments were very far and few between. I tried to forget and let nostalgia glaze over it.

Then I find myself being pulled into the past again, it repeats itself in a sick way, I started to remember all the things that had come with the past. 

These moments were the things I chose to remember and the reality was what I tried to forget. 

I'm forced to come face to face with my past self and see something so incompatible that I remember why it died; because it had to.

If those were the ''glory days'' then the present has no meaning. 

To spend the rest of one's life pursuing the old experiences and feelings was to be the pathetic figure who thinks that his younger years (or any sort of time) were the meaning of his own life; as if it began and ended at that fixed point of time.

Or as Ecclesiastes 7:10 says:

"Do not say, “Why is it that the former days were better than these?”

For it is not from wisdom that you ask about this" 

What is wisdom?

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, the knowledge of the Holy One is understanding"

and

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; A good understanding have all those who do His commandments" as Proverbs 9:10 and Psalm 111:10a says. 

How do we fear him and keep his commandments? 

We fear by recognizing:

His existence -

"For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse" - Romans 1:20

Our sin (wrong) against him in ingratitude and our judgment as a result, the reason to fear Him -

"For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God or give thanks, but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened" - Rom 1:21

"because of your stubbornness and unrepentant heart you are storing up wrath for yourself in the day of wrath and revelation of the righteous judgment of God, who will render to each person according to his deeds" - Rom 2:5-6

This is fear of our Holy Creator who will judge us with wrath for our stubbornness and lack of faith and gratitude to Him. 

"Worship the Lord in the splendor of holiness; tremble before him, all the earth!" - Psalm 96:9

You see, this is the past that needed to die. 

The life lived in this past was what these verses are talking about. This was the reality that I was overlooking. This was behind the angst of youth. The trauma in my adolescence caused by my sin. The soul sucking absence of God. 

This reminder haunted behind every crumpled corner and over every pile of rubble. This was the past self that I was confronted with. 

Unfortunately, this is the present for most of us. 

There are those who are still living this, we cannot move on from this until we change. 

Everyone is guilty of this:

"The Lord has looked down from heaven upon the sons of men to see if there are any who understand, who seek after God. 

They have all turned aside, together they have become corrupt; There is no one who does good, not even one. 

Do all the workers of wickedness not know, who eat up my people as they eat bread, and do not call upon the Lord?" - Psalm 14:2-3

But there is hope. There is something beyond sin. 

God has offered us reconciliation, a quite different fear, in his son; Jesus Christ. 

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life" - John 3:16

''through Him [Christ] to reconcile all things to Himself, having made peace through the blood of His cross; through Him, I say, whether things on earth or things in heaven" - Colossians 1:20

''Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die'' - John 11:25-26

''For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus'' - 1 Thessalonians 4:14

Now, we see fear in a completely different light. This fear of judgement is transformed through the cross of Christ:

''There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves punishment, and the one who fears is not perfected in love'' - I John 4:18

Now, the fear in Proverbs 9:10 and Psalm 110:10 is fear that motivates those who believe in Him to obey Him. Our whole lives has been in rebellion towards him, now we find ourselves eager, in gratitude, to obey the one who saved us. Resting upon and trusting His power to sustain us to do what what pleases Him as we seek to please the one who saved us.  

''Thus you are to be holy to Me, for I the LORD am holy; and I have set you apart from the peoples to be Mine'' - Leviticus 20:26

"The fear of the LORD is the instruction for wisdom, and before honor comes humility." - Proverbs 15:33

"He said, 'Do not stretch out your hand against the lad, and do nothing to him; for now I know that you fear God, since you have not withheld your son, your only son, from Me.'" - Gen 22:12

"And to man He said, ‘Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; And to depart from evil is understanding.’” - Job 28:28

''So the church throughout all Judea and Galilee and Samaria enjoyed peace, being built up; and going on in the fear of the Lord and in the comfort of the Holy Spirit, it continued to increase'' - Acts 9:31

So what now? 

Life continues.

But life continues in an entirely different way that affects everything; our outlook on life, how we act, understand life. It is moving on. 

''When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, think like a child, reason like a child; when I became a man, I did away with childish things'' - 1 Corinthians 13:11

I moved on and realized that this nostalgia was deceitful. It was not wise to pursue it because it takes away your sense of reality. It loosens your grip on yourself, like a drug, feeling only the whispers of dreams and empty promises. 

Rather, there is a calling to live for the glory of God and waiting upon the promise of eternal life: 

''Therefore be careful how you walk, not as unwise men but as wise, making the most of your time, because the days are evil'' - Ephesians 5:16 

''to those who by perseverance in doing good seek for glory and honor and immortality, eternal life'' - Romans 2:7

''Brethren, I do not regard myself as having laid hold of it yet; but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus'' - Philippians 3:13-14

These memories that remain serve to remind of what God has done: 

"Memory...is not nostalgia or historical reverie.  It is far more profound than having a mental skill or a better-than-average ability to recall....

“The redeemed memory, as it works under God’s Spirit, keeps the living awareness of the present in line with a living awareness of the past.  Thus our gratitude and thanksgiving, which are spurred by a knowledge of the past, are linked to our faith and hope, which engage the present and look toward the future.  This gives continuity and wholeness to the life of faith that are indispensible to its growth and maturity.” - Os Guinness’ God in the Dark (1996)

 

Meanwhile, there is meaning in the present. You are here for a reason. 

 

"There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven⁠" (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

"He has made everything appropriate in its time. He has also set eternity in their heart, yet so that man will not find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end. I know that there is nothing better for them than to rejoice and to do good in one’s lifetime; moreover, that every man who eats and drinks sees good in all his labor⁠—it is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will remain forever; there is nothing to add to it and there is nothing to take from it, for God has so worked that men should fear Him. That which is has been already and that which will be has already been, for God seeks what has passed by" (Eccl 3:11-15).

Behind the empty streets, on the empty back roads, and past the decayed towns that cry for life; there is this sentiment that is embedded within creation itself:

''For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now'' - Romans 8:19-22

 

We progress forward on the paths that are in the hand of God and experience new feelings and capture new memories. The memories are a catalog that is meant to remind us of God's faithfulness. We either learn from this, be thankful, and progress, or we forget; only to be reminded of life's harsh realities, on account of sin, and are called to repent. 

"If we cannot say who we have been, we can never know who we are.  Our humanity lies not in mastery over the construction of our life story but in the virtues by which we accept the limits of the body, live truthfully in the face of the past, and seek to give new meaning to what is painful or misguided in that past" - Gilbert Meilaender, The Freedom of a Christian (2006)

''The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man'' - Ecclesiastes 12:13 

The End

Zucc (The Big Nothing Part 23)

The cornfield stretched on for seemingly miles. Our shoes felt lumpy from all the mud and broken cornstalks we've been walking on. 

Ryan was walking right by me, telling me about the tweakers he saw here, playing disc golf at five in the morning. ''I just kept walking, like, in mid conversation'' he said in a half chuckle. 

The sky above us was beginning to darken, the clouds looked like sheets of layered cotton; they floated around in a dim blue haze.

In the distance, I could see two blinking towers, they stood like pillars in the dead field of past harvest. Behind us was the long stretch of road that was beginning to bleed into town. 

The land development wasn't too far away. We could see the mounds of dirt and construction vehicles just on the other side of the road. 

Soon, the sprawling rows of chopped down corn will be plowed over, dug up from the ground, and replaced with nursing homes, condos, and apartment buildings.

Ryan looked dazed, he recalled walking into this exact field until the sun rose; he watched the dawn and couldn't stop walking towards it. Enamored.

The street lights were starting to blink on and we headed back to the car. We drove and drove until we figured out what to do.

I found myself on the other side of town; inside of the local movie theater. 

We were a group now and we huddled together, walking right past the ticket woman, the little old woman looked at us confused until I told her that we weren't here for a movie. She shrugged.

The place was busy, I mean, it was a Saturday night. No one else had anything to do either.

There was a second floor, which had a bunch of gimmicky arcade machines, that a few of us wanted to screw around on. I was dazed by the mind numbingness of it all.

The neon of the machines were blinding and flashing fast enough to give just about anyone a good seizure.

I found myself watching the people wander in and out of the front doors. They looked bored and emotionless. Some came in clutching tasteless women, groups of children, cheap dates, and a mindless gaze that looked offended if it caught yours. 

I saw down from the balcony that there was a ledge littered with receipts and holes in the plaster as if someone had jumped off from here and landed through it.

I kept my eye on a particular group of middle age women because, leading them, was this pissed off guy with a shaved head and crappy plaid jacket.

He kept looking at me with a murderous gaze; though it didn't feel particularly meant for me. I did keep inching away so I wouldn't get clocked from the back of the head.

I walked in the other direction to go down a useless elevator so I could use the bathroom. It felt stuck until the doors opened and I rushed into the bathroom.

The place was desecrated and littered with hand towels and everything looked diseased. I saw a pair of shoes in a stall and couldn't escape the feeling that this place was done for. It looked like the remains of a hotel room after being used by junkies for a week. Probably was.

I walked out, clutching my stomach, and couldn't escape the disgust. My nostrils were being violated with the smell of over microwaved baked potatoes. 

It turned out to be mashed potatoes.

Big difference. I could of spewed all over that cheap carpet.

Our group retreated into the bar, by the front doors, to wait for The Duke to show up. The bar was the cleanest place in the whole building. The two beautiful bartenders quietly chatted to each other as our group dumbly eyed one another.

This guy in the bar kept eyeing me over some shoulders; they were zoning in now and it'd only be a time before someone gets a pen shoved into their jugular.

By the time The Duke was walking in, we were walking out, he looked barely there. He elongated his sentences like he was drunk but he was fine. He explained that he had spent the day getting out of jail. 

He maneuvered through traffic fairly well for someone who had barely slept. He had the wheel with one hand and the other trained on a cigarette. The light of the passing traffic shimmered off his thick glasses.

We followed the others to the local Walmart. It's cheap fluorescence glowed in the night. 

The other group had wandered in some other part of the building until I found them all slumped together on a bench towards where we entered. 

There were four of them; Ryan, Covert Ops, Jax and Alex. I sat on the bench as Jax and Covert ran off to hunt for booze. 

The Duke slumped down next to me on the bench. He kept a transfixed gaze on the floor as I saw the late night Walmart people shuffle around like they were lost.

I saw the dude from the movie theater bar, he eyed me as he passed, I could see his skin moving and I noticed the microchips in his fingers. They crawled around like fleas under his flesh. This was how he was tracking us.

The funniest part was that this wasn't the worst thing to see at a Wal-Mart at night; especially when your sitting next to three other people at finger length.

Where was this going? I thought to myself. I was curious to see how crazy things could get. I didn't even know if I could get to where I was trying to get. But where was I trying to get?

That was usually the game and the game changed when I saw the figure of The Inch arise from a faceless house on this side of suburbia; bottle of laundry detergent full of booze in hand and outfit looking hijacked from Ben Affleck in Good Will Hunting.

Where are we going? I asked Covert on the phone. He was vague. There were plans, always plans, and they mostly stayed plans. He told me to meet the group at the make out park.

The make out park was an unimpressive little park in Marion but it always seemed to loop around or end up there one way or another. It's called Make Out Park since it's not odd to find someone having sex in a car here. This whole town was inescapable.

We saw the other group in the parking lot of make out park. I saw Jax handing Covert booze and knew things were going to get stupid. Ryan and I watched as they chucked empty bottles at the pavement. 

The smashing of the glass echoed throughout the entire park. 

I looked out in the field that made up most of the park. The darkness hid mostly everything but the lines of trees and lights inside surrounding houses. 

The moon glowed dimly, I started to feel the dribble of rain, and The Inch had disappeared into the field with the rest of the booze.

Part Two: The Suburban Subterranean

The deep darkness of the suburban subterranean is etched out by the streetlights that stand as silent pillars in places you aren't supposed to be.

I watched the shadows of the subterranean move along with the moonlight. I drew heavily from the slow burning cigarette and sat quietly on the huge cookie cutter porch. 

It was completely silent and the road stretched into the maze of the subterranean. 

Covert came out of the house, walked right past me, and jumped on a Ripstik; one of those plastic pieces of crap that looks like someone looked at a fishstick and said to themselves “that could become a skateboard’’. 

More people came out of the house until we became a small group on bikes and Ripstiks out on the front lawn. We picked a direction randomly and raced off into the dark concrete labyrinth.

The pace was steady but would pick up once we knew for sure that the streets were empty, our only guide was the streetlights, moon, and a guy with insanity stamped deep into his eyes. 

The path we took twisted off in random directions, deep into the rows of cookie cutters, until it became about speed. 

Hills would rise among the dark rows of cookie cutters and droop down into blind corners.

I was on a bike, huffing hard, between The Inch (on a bike) and the wild eyed guy (on a Ripstik) in front; Covert followed alongside as he complained about the whole thing. 

I started to race The Inch and I found myself picking up speed; the ground turning into whirly lines and the street lights into passing fragments. 

The wild eyed guy was still in front, on that Ripstik, then disappeared down a hill and I got there fast enough to see him race down while a car pulled onto the same road. It's headlights were blinding but he only grooved right past it as the car jerked to the right.

We followed him down until we screeched to a halt at the bottom. 

He was standing there trying to figure out where to go until he suddenly yelled out ''GO RIGHT'' and we pulled into a small cul de sac; only lit by a single streetlight in the middle of it. 

I stood and rested on the little island as the group grew until there were about five of us. I ignored the others as I stared off into the empty streets. All around us were houses dimly lit by TV's, porch lights, and garage sensors.

It was only us out here inside the deep impressions of concrete and darkness.

No cars, people, or cops. 

I could of pissed out in the middle of the street and the sound of it, splattering around someone's lawn or off the curb, would have been deafening.

I could feel the sweat drip down slowly. I turned and everyone was getting ready to zoom off again. We got back out on the empty road and Covert took over. 

He directed us downhill, we raced past the dim lights and lifeless cop cars that were useless in their off duty.

For some reason, Covert was going to show us this sewer, and we were to follow him. We didn't know why but we did anyway. We followed him until most of us were so absorbed in our own conversations that we mostly ignored him.

We wandered turn after turn until we slowed and threw our bikes down on the sidewalk grass. Covert, determined, ran off until he moved to another block and found what he was looking for. 

It was a strange sight; four or five dudes just standing around on a street corner talking away as a random kid was dredging through the nearby sewer system. 

A couple of cars passed but they were too terrified to make eye contact with a group of guys sitting on a street corner at 3am. No police were called because we knew the streets better than them.

How are you supposed to have a good chase if all the streets look the same? What would their neighbors say? Their wives? Officer Shamburger cried into his wife's shoulders that night as she was quietly snoring; knowing that these moments of weakness were for her to remind him just how weak he is.

I walked past the nameless group to check up on Covert. He ran off into the sewer, he called out for me to join him, and I jumped over a little fence and stood by a small creek that flowed into it. 

The moon was so bright that I could see his shadow moving around in there. I stuck out my foot and some water touched my pant leg. It was so cold that I stepped back and refused to go in. He didn't say anything. I walked back up and stood with the others until we got tired of waiting on him and left. 

He caught the hint and ran to catch up.

Part Three: The Big Zucc

I had my head out the window and I could feel the rush of the wind and the rain beat softly against my face.

We had been driving pretty deep into the outskirts of town. There was nothing but the sound of Jeff Buckley in the car and the wind against my ear drums. 

All around me were the empty fields of development land. The street lights made a windy path all around the edges of suburbia.

There was no one on the road. 

Stop lights blinked idly at us and cops sat glazed eyed in their cruisers. 

You could see the silhouettes of the houses that acted as beacons in the deep blackness. The rain made the lines in the road disappear. We circled through the endless streets of cookie cutter. 

Most of the houses were completely dark except for the paranoid few that made their homes good targets of theft or were just plain stupid. You could make out the big screen TVs with mindless garbage plastered across them.

There was an endless black that even the streetlights couldn't help. 

We cruised through empty streets and onto the back roads that went on and on. The road never ended; only looped back to where you started.

We didn't know where we were going but it didn't matter. 

We were beating against nothing, surrounded by nothing, but somehow it felt like everything.