Saw this building in its finally stages of demolition. One of the exposed units was still sported a beat-up five blade ceiling fan, believe it or not. Got me thinking about the folks who once lived there. At some point in history they agonized over that ceiling fan at a lighting store or maybe a local Canadian Tire store. After finally coming to a decision based on the size and colour, they lined up at the cash on a Saturday morning, then took it home and installed it. The first week they were probably tickled pink with it, and with themselves for making such a savvy ceiling fan purchase. I get that. I’ve been there myself. Got the t-shirt to prove it. Over time, though, they stopped noticing the fan and it became just another object in the room, quietly spinning around moving the air, hot or cold.
Those folks are long gone now, and all that remains of their time at this building is that ceiling fan and its history, of which I am a witness. And now through these words and the world wide interwebbythingy, people in dozens of countries around the globe are also witnesses, albeit vicariously through me.
Imagine all the fights that fan has seen. Or all the happy hugs and kisses at the front door after a long day at work. Or maybe it’s been witness to the tears of a broken heart and abject loneliness. Or some protracted illness, perhaps.
If ceiling fans had their own pub to go to to relax after a hard day’s work moving air around the room, I bet they’d have the most interesting stories to tell at the bar. And you can be assured one of those stories would be about this fan, the one still attached to the ceiling of a building about to be demolished. All the other fans would talk in whispers when the subject came up. “You heard Bert’s still on the ceiling of that building, eh?” one might say over a pint. “Yeah, pretty sad. I guess he’s a goner,” the other would reply. “He had an affair with the bathroom exhaust fan, I hear.” And the other fan would turn to face the first and say, “How’d you hear that? Ya ain’t got ears, for christssake. You’re a fan!”
Or something along those lines… I don’t get out to bars much.