The Written Word

I wrote about my first road trip a couple of weeks ago and in that post I told you about meeting my dad outside of St. Louis at a hotel called Noah’s Arc. I haven’t driven by that hotel in many years. My sister, who lives in St. Louis, read my post and snapped a few photos of Noah’s Arc and e-mailed them to me a couple of days ago. I think these are photos of the lobby area, and not the hotel itself, but I could be wrong.

I knew that the place closed down, but actually seeing what it looks like now, as compared to that day I met my dad there was unbelievable. Here’s how it looks now (it doesn’t even have the animals poking their heads through the roof!):

I wish I had photos of the way it looked previously, but just imagine it looking clean and virbrant (and with animals). Eventually I’m sure the place will be torn down and something else will be built in its place. I’ve written about the power of place and about how much I struggle when places that mean a lot to me change.

While I still find such situations a bit sad, it gives me more motivation to record such memories with the written word. Written words outlast places, photos, and memories. They live on and on to be read by the generations that follow.