The Mansion
They put AstroTurf in front of The Mansion. I wasn’t even thinking of The Mansion, honestly, as I walked down Grant. It was just how I was getting from one place to another, but then it was in front of me, and seeing how I was already nostalgic and filled with loss that day, I stopped to look. the AstroTurf looked back at me, a glaringly obvious green on an otherwise drab November day.
The Mansion seems kind of like a dream if you didn’t really experience it. First and foremost, it was an office, a fact I was reminded of every time I had to stop by in the middle of the day and found people diligently working at their desks. The way I remember it most was as a gathering space. There always seemed to be something going on there. I remember once, in the early years, walking by at about nine at night, seeing a light, calling someone, and being let up into an upper room where a small group had gathered.
I can’t say that it was always like this. As the years went on, social gatherings became much more organized. It makes sense, given that this was a workplace. But I often felt out of the loop. I would know that we were gathering for some reason or another, but I was never certain about what the reason was. And this is how it was the day I took my shoes off on the front lawn and felt the grass between my toes–an experience that no one will ever have again because of the AstroTurf.
I thought we were just having an after-work party, but it was for something or other official and the spot next to my shoes was the spot that was chosen for speeches. I can’t tell you today what the point of the party was. I don’t remember. I was too focused on my shoes and internal back and forth I was experiencing–should I go get my shoes or would that be a disruption. perhaps it is best if this man just gives his speeches next to a pair of women’s heels in which no person was standing to give them place and purpose. Whatever was being said was deserving of applause, but I was too caught up in my own insecurities about my whether or not my shoes were business appropriate when they were off my feet.
And this was the contradiction of The Mansion and perhaps one of the things that it was trying to point out to me at the time. While I felt that I could be there in social moments and that I had a place, I was never going to be great at making that transition to office culture. I would mess up in little ways, like taking my shoes off when we are all supposed to keep them on, or handing a beer to a homeless man walking by because “why not”, or showing up slightly unkempt because someone invited me to a party without telling me that it was a party for a new law association so I was surrounded by people in business attire until I ran to the back building to hide from all the much more responsible people who had just come from an office. There were more and more parties like this as time went on, and my place at The Mansion seemed to be slipping away and others moved in.
In the early days of The Mansion, there were about four or five different businesses housed there. Every office seemed to hold someone new. As some businesses grew and others moved on or went away, people moved in and out. Toward the end there was one business dominating, and when the walls of The Mansion could no longer contain them, they left too–moving the entire operation down the road a bit. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who stayed the same.
Eventually, The Mansion became what it is today. I don’t know the people who own it now. I don’t know their interior designer. That seems weird to me. Why would they move into this space? What was it to them? If I never saw them before, where did they get their idea of what it was or what it should be? The idea is vaguely the same, but the reality is different. I no longer belong. I don’t think I will ever again be inside that building and, no one, ever again, will feel the grass in front between their toes.
