St. Brigid’s and the “Destruction” of the East Village

You may have seen the huge old Catholic church on the east side of Thompkin’s Square Park, it’s looming faded yellow facade visible from almost anywhere in the park. Well, if you haven’t seen it, you won’t unless you go there soon. It’s being torn down (link). This is sad for a lot of reasons.
The loss of such old architecture is a shame because the place is over one hundred and fifty years old. You can’t recreate the charm of an old building because methods and materials have changed so much. Or you can create it, but it is REALLY expensive, often involving cryogenics and dead Italian stone masons.

The destruction of St. Brigid’s must be difficult for anyone who had ever worshipped there, (including my friend Colleen who went every Sunday when she lived in the EV). Large churches, cathedrals, temples, and mosques are created as a testament to God and the abilities he gives man, an eternal concept. The falling bricks beneath the wrecking ball make particularly graphic metaphors for mortality and how faith can be fleeting.

Lastly, the changing cityscapes mark the passage of time in my life, whether in Altoona or New York City. When I look at Kudo Beans and remember that it was once Bulgin’ Waffles, I realize I was recently a lot younger. I spent quite a bit of time passing this church, sometimes seeing the young priest sneak a smoke out the backdoor between the Spanish and the English masses. When it goes, it removes one frame of reference for my internal autobiographical movie, SeanTConrad.com – The True Story, a Made for TNT Movie.

I am being a touch melodramatic, but my pang at the loss of the church also shows that the life of anyplace begins when we discover it or move there. This is why older people hate younger people (among all the other reasons); because they don’t feel the pain every time a deli becomes a bank. I’m sure some other residents would chide me for not being nostalgic for the junkies that use to sleep huddled against the yellow bricks on the church’s steps. Yes, in the East Village, there are people longing for junkies of yore–a lot of people.

All this environmental nostalgia is arguably a good reason to keep moving, so that the world is always new and nothing is ever lost. Of course it wouldn’t work because, wherever you go, there you are, and most of life’s problems generally lie between the front of your shirt and the back.

Links
– Curbed is following the demolition, which apparently a judge has temporarily stopped. Protesters and judges should pack it in. I took this photo last Friday, after the demoltion had begun. When I was walked around, I saw a crack going from the foundation to the roof along the back wall. The entire rear is one rough pigeon step from falling off.

You may have seen the huge old Catholic church on the east side of Thompkin’s Square Park, it’s looming faded yellow facade visible from almost anywhere in the park. Well, if you haven’t seen it, you won’t unless you go there soon. It’s being torn down (link). This is sad for a lot of reasons.

The loss of such old architecture is a shame because the place is over one hundred and fifty years old. You can’t recreate the charm of an old building because methods and materials have changed so much. Or you can create it, but it is REALLY expensive, often involving cryogenics and dead Italian stone masons.

The destruction of St. Brigid’s must be difficult for anyone who had ever worshipped there, (including my friend Colleen who went every Sunday when she lived in the EV). Large churches, cathedrals, temples, and mosques are created as a testament to God and the abilities he gives man, an eternal concept. The falling bricks beneath the wrecking ball make particularly graphic metaphors for mortality and how faith can be fleeting.

Lastly, the changing cityscapes mark the passage of time in my life, whether in Altoona or New York City. When I look at Kudo Beans and remember that it was once Bulgin’ Waffles, I realize I was recently a lot younger. I spent quite a bit of time passing this church, sometimes seeing the young priest sneak a smoke out the backdoor between the Spanish and the English masses. When it goes, it removes one frame of reference for my internal autobiographical movie, SeanTConrad.com – The True Story, a Made for TNT Movie.

I am being a touch melodramatic, but my pang at the loss of the church also shows that the life of anyplace begins when we discover it or move there. This is why older people hate younger people (among all the other reasons); because they don’t feel the pain every time a deli becomes a bank. I’m sure some other residents would chide me for not being nostalgic for the junkies that use to sleep huddled against the yellow bricks on the church’s steps. Yes, in the East Village, there are people longing for junkies of yore–a lot of people.

All this environmental nostalgia is arguably a good reason to keep moving, so that the world is always new and nothing is ever lost. Of course it wouldn’t work because, wherever you go, there you are, and most of life’s problems generally lie between the front of your shirt and the back.

Links
– Curbed is following the demolition, which apparently a judge has temporarily stopped. Protesters and judges should pack it in. I took this photo last Friday, after the demoltion had begun. When I was walked around, I saw a crack going from the foundation to the roof along the back wall. The entire rear is one rough pigeon step from falling off.