by Michael Seese
The world seems a little heavier these past few days. As I mentioned in my previous post, last weekend we went to the annual music party in Scenery Hill, Pennsylvania. It was a wonderful event, though bittersweet.
Then came the sucker punch.
On Tuesday, we got an email from our friend Ray, who said the Inn had caught fire. For all intents and purposes, it burned to the ground. The only reason it didn't literally was because the exterior walls are all foot-thick blocks of stone.
Our loss -- that of a place we loved to meet friends -- is trivial compared to the loss suffered by the owner, our friend Megin. She and her son got out unscathed. But Megin lost her livelihood and her home. (She lived on the third floor.)
You can Google "Century Inn fire" to read about it and see pictures. But here's one -- probably copyrighted, but I don't care -- which really hits home with me.
Forty-eight hours before these pictures were taken, my family was sleeping in the room circled in red.
In one of the articles, the head of the local historical society said it was like a death in the family.