Take me Home, Mountain Home

As I’ve said, I clip these and put them away and get back to them a year later. Usually there’s no idea why I went there, although it’s sometimes apparent - a bank, a restaurant, a motel. In this case it took me a while to retrace my steps, and figure out what I was going.

So:

An earlier view . . .

And then voila, the current day.

If it’s a playground, it looks like it does double duty as a municipal incinerator.

Some things are just inscrutable. I guess I screenshotted this, then thought . . .

Did it used to look different, with a suggestion of a door, or an accent, or was someone entombed in the building as punishment?

An old sign from the optimistic jet / space age era of signage:

The rest of the building, with an overscaled bit of “landscaping” to bring the folks back downtown.

A fine old two-story early 20th century commercial building is trapped behind the hee-haw Buckaroo revival, and there’s no way it’s getting out.

The logo is venerable, a hundred years old - or at least it’s borrowing gravitas from the old typefaces of that era.

The building is not something from which anyone will borrow ideas. Ever.

There you go! Something nice and BIG - three stories always looks twice as big as two. And patriotic, too.

The present view: landscaped! Made all the difference, I’m sure.

Side view.

The flags are nice, but they suggest that no one’s actually using any of those offices.

Probably because they aren’t.

Rode hard and flayed alive:

Now. Better.

And that, my friends, is all I could get out of Mountain Home.