Author's Note: This is an Editorial I wrote back in 2016, the day I saw the photo of the Scandinavian Gate being demolished. I never published it because, I don't know I think I thought it was too personal at the time. I’ve almost posted it a few times over the years but haven’t. I go back and read it often, I’ve quoted it in other blogs that I’ve published. But today, with it being 10 years later I think it’s finally time.
This isn’t going to be a historical blog, or a news blog, or really an informative blog at all, this is a more personal blog entry that happens to revolve around Worlds of Fun, and maybe it will be as therapeutic to you as it is to me to write it. Today, November 4th 2016 Worlds of Fun posted a picture of the Scandinavian gate being demolished. Leading up to this point, I was excited; thrilled we were FINALLY getting a new gate, YEAH! I even offered to drive the Caterpillar that demolished the old gate. It’s still great we are getting a new gate that hasn’t changed. Nothing really has changed. However, I have discovered an emotion, something I didn’t expect. Bittersweet sadness. The moment I saw the picture I wasn’t ecstatically happy like I expected, I wasn’t crying tears of sadness… no the first thing I thought was… what did the Americana gate look like when it went? Did anyone weep for it when the backhoe hit? Or the Cotton Blossom, when it met the sledgehammer? And I’m not talking about the fact that they were removed since I have spent the good part of twenty years talking about that. No. I am talking about the actual, physical, tangible act of removal. The bang, splinters everywhere moment. I guess it’s like the difference between hearing your friend is dead and reading the obituary as opposed to say going to the funeral, and well… you know. The reality just hits you much harder when it quite literally hits you in the face.
This isn’t going to be a historical blog, or a news blog, or really an informative blog at all, this is a more personal blog entry that happens to revolve around Worlds of Fun, and maybe it will be as therapeutic to you as it is to me to write it. Today, November 4th 2016 Worlds of Fun posted a picture of the Scandinavian gate being demolished. Leading up to this point, I was excited; thrilled we were FINALLY getting a new gate, YEAH! I even offered to drive the Caterpillar that demolished the old gate. It’s still great we are getting a new gate that hasn’t changed. Nothing really has changed. However, I have discovered an emotion, something I didn’t expect. Bittersweet sadness. The moment I saw the picture I wasn’t ecstatically happy like I expected, I wasn’t crying tears of sadness… no the first thing I thought was… what did the Americana gate look like when it went? Did anyone weep for it when the backhoe hit? Or the Cotton Blossom, when it met the sledgehammer? And I’m not talking about the fact that they were removed since I have spent the good part of twenty years talking about that. No. I am talking about the actual, physical, tangible act of removal. The bang, splinters everywhere moment. I guess it’s like the difference between hearing your friend is dead and reading the obituary as opposed to say going to the funeral, and well… you know. The reality just hits you much harder when it quite literally hits you in the face.
Only one other time have I seen the actual act of demolition at Worlds of Fun, and that was with the Orient Express, and I will still never, ever forget that day (and right now I can’t help but think of the one person in the administration building at Worlds of Fun reading this thinking… oh here we go again), but no again it’s not about the Orient Express, but about its end… seeing the track wobble back and forth, seemingly putting up a fight before it goes crashing, unceremoniously to the ground. That same day I heard “Fire & Rain” by James Taylor on the radio and connected with that song, and the line “fine machines in pieces on the ground” just really struck a cord for me. It’s my old defunct attractions Worlds of Fun song now. I can’t hear it without seeing that same scene… over and over again.
There are many other songs for me that speak of personal Worlds of Fun moments, “Mr. Jones” for when I worked at Rockin’ Reeler in 1994 and that was all they ever played… I hated it then, I still really don’t like it all that much, but now every time I hear it I think of the metal ramps and stainless handrails that I had many close personal moments (hours!) with. Then there is “American Pie” it was the first song that came to mind when Lamar Hunt passed, which was about the same time they got rid of the themed music at Worlds of Fun too, and now I can’t ever listen to the song without hearing “Swiss Miss Yodeling Lass” and every other stupid, but beloved Scandinavian yodeling music song I was forced (and paid $4.25 an hour) to listen to when I worked on Voyager… also in 1994. I am sure many who are reading this know exactly what I am thinking, you have it too, the songs, even the smells and noises that bring back the memories, or that you have heard years later that helped you remember the memories even better. Don’t forget them. Write them down now…
So going back to that old Scandi gate… I’m not going to talk or even think about the new gate right now… no. In fact, I haven’t really shed a tear over the old gate because it was WAY past its prime. However, it’s now gone. The years I spent complaining about the old gate are gone. Most importantly though and I think this is at the heart of the matter… the moments are gone. The moments that become memories, that last forever. I will never enter Worlds of Fun like that ever again. Not a big deal you say. How I wish I could go through the Americana gate just one more time… if nothing but just to remember how it felt.
I’m happy. I’m sad. It’s bittersweet… It’s complicated.
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