A horde of young children pour out from the thick glass doors along front of the 21st Century Charter School of Gary Indiana, an insipid modern single story building topped with a wig of red tinted shingles which make the school stick out like a literal red headed stepchild amongst the blight which has wreaked havoc and spread like a virus through every street and alley conceiving The Magic City of Steel. As the students flock to the outside world, instantly Washington Street transforms from a dead sea of asphalt into a block party gridlocked with rambunctious children. Their conversations quickly fill the stagnant air as their jubilant voices talking all at once and over one-another escalate from discernible gossip into screaming and hollering, as everyone tries all at once to be heard. The boisterous voice of a mother yelling for her young son to get out from the middle of the street most notably, of all the yelling, pierces through the thick gothic stone walls of the adjacent City Methodist Church, which I just so happen to be occupying. The mother's voice gradually increases in tone, sterner and sterner, until the boy gives in and returns to his mother waiting at the car.
The crumbling church was my first stop of a day long tour through the decaying gridded streets of the former industrial city turned "Life After People" homage. The amount of decay and ruins of every infrastructural type that any large city would otherwise possibly need to thrive dots literally every street and corner of Gary, Indiana. It's truly a mesmerizing and nearly incomprehensible sight to absorb; like an alien plant, everything familiar seems long detached from society, so much is ruined that the city itself appears more like a movie set than an actual metropolis people call home. But home, Gary still exists as, and to well over 70,000 residents. Standing within the long abandoned City Methodist Church, I simply listened, as the children's voices filled the ruinous hollow halls and decaying religious chambers, their conversation easily funneling in through the long collapsed chapel roof which seems to have let copious amounts of empty alcohol bottles, Black & Mild cigar wrappers, and needles of questionable use in just as easily as the natural elements might pour in during a rain storm. Within the church I began to feel not so much as an explorer but an invader, unwelcome within a city masquerading to the untrained eye as a thousands adventures. Yet Gary truly exists as a real place where thousands and thousands of people live out their lives, their struggles every single day, unable to escape the blight, poverty, greed and corruption which seems to form a wall around the city limits, entrapping the hopes of better prospects existing just beyond the invisible but yet very real social barricades.
The thousands of abandoned structures which consume the City of Gary, Indiana, existed to me, an outsider with a warped selfish view, as an ever continuing playground of adventure where everything is as obvious to enter as simply walking through the blasted out front door along the main sidewalk. From schools to hospitals, train stations to theaters, malls to factories and pop-star houses; if humans built it, an abandoned version no doubt exists in Gary. I spent the remainder of my time within the city limits wandering about awestruck, not so much by the staggering amount of decay but also at the resiliency of the people and even the wild life which still very much call Gary, home. Entire blocks, hundreds of them, lined with row home after home remained decimated, as if a tornado had just ripped through moments ago, but Gary is no victim to such a natural disaster, all this destruction is instead man inflicted. However, with each city block appearing gloomier then the previous, an occasional business would sprout out like a wildflower within a crack in the asphalt along an interstate highway, unnoticed by the hundreds of motorists constantly zipping past. And perhaps this is how the residents of Gary feel, numb to the negative sights but resilient like the little flower, seeing every literal dead end as a new place to start over and grow. I was must struck while trying to discretely exit from a blown out middle school buried deep within a suburban sea of overgrown streets and wrecked houses burnt to a crisp by an arsonist's magic wand. As I arched my legs through the window trying to quickly leave, I heard the unfamiliar sound of a small engine. The sound proved to be a middle-aged man mowing the lawn of his row home existing every so inelegantly between two other row houses, which looked to have just been decimated by Godzilla. However, the man took no notice and proceed to mow the green grass with much pride for what existed around him was inconsequential compared to what he had; a home.
As the afternoon progressed into early evening, I began to understand the city with a new found vision. While the ruination was certainly irrefutable and to an adventurer like myself, quite inviting at times, so too undeniable was the life still abound, from the numerous mom and pop shops and restaurants to the animals making use of the dilapidated places like man made nests and caves to dwell within. Before driving out of the city and into the sunset, I stopped at a local eatery and while waiting for my food was reminded of the children from earlier in the day whom had just left school, screaming with excitement yet completely unfazed that directly across from their institute existed a crumbing church that looked right out of war movie after the bombing scene. Within this train of thought I was reminded of a word which I doubt is often associated with Gary; happiness. Despite all the negativity, those children were happy, the workers in the restaurant waiting on me were happy, the guy mowing his lawn in-between two houses ready to collapse was happy, hell, even myself, I was content. I never once felt scared nor intimidated while walking the bombed out streets, as common stereotyping would have one to believe. While the struggle in Gary is no doubt real and much help is needed for continued revitalization and progress to continue, happiness is not dead in Gary, and I believe that speaks volumes to human resilience and pride of place. I for one look forward to revisiting Gary, Indiana one day, and I know that when I do return, I will see the City under a more positive light which will certainly make me appreciate the city as more than just a playground for myself, but rather as a home to many.
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