Mourning the loss of anything, be it person, place, or thing, can be wrenching. Even the smallest losses can take on a surprising magnitude, and we're all often keen on getting over and leaving behind. But there is something like joy in coming to understand the possibilities, potential, and facts of a past existence--and of discovering those existences--and that's what's going to keep LOST Magazine feeling like a good funeral. You know the kind.
I've been cataloging this 130-year old barn in my head for almost fifteen years. But as it slowly slides away from the highway and into tall grass, I'm amazed by the fact that I see more in my head when I look at this barn now than there actually is. I see fifteen years of images and somehow they keep extending back in time, my mind extrapolating from what it knows and producing, in my head, a proper barn.
But I know that while loss and mourning are universal, sentimentality may not be. It's a line LOST will have to walk. It's easy to say that nostalgia is wasteful, a lazy exercise in staying stuck, or in fearing change. And it's easy to see that barn and call it a wreck--or to not even see it. We've got the hard job--to illuminate and expand upon what is by presenting what was. But as I see it, how can we not, when we're sitting here together on the same spinning rock in the middle of nowhere as traces of everyone and everything that ever sat here before us?