The following short story is about progress. Interestingly, things change and humans change, but God changes not.
Driving by the spanking-new pharmacy, she shivers. The Historical Society lost the fight and it was a wing-dinger of a mêlée! The fracas split the town into three camps; those for, those against, and those who didn’t care one way or the other. Nonetheless in the end, the old building came down. Calling the mayor, senator, and governor proved fruitless. The snobby media declined airtime. Greed and profit won and GVS, the national pharmacy chain, triumphed. The CEO refused to sell the salvageable wooden staircase and solid door frames. But did they succeed? A two hundred year old landmark is now rubble and wreckage; chunks of olden times treated like debris. And for what? Cold steel, contemporary but tasteless glass and unsightly cement. Bury the old and make room for the new. Forget traditional architecture and structures built with sweat and pride. Well, she will never buy anything from that pharmacy! Snickering to herself, she thinks about her heritage. According to her genealogical study, her kinfolk voted against the railroad, the automobile, and the industrial age. “Progress is spinning out of control!” she shouts into the air. Sadly, she returns to the comfort of her dated country home to lick her wounds.
The following week her group trudges through the mud and marches around a vintage farmstead while Super Mal-Mart big-wigs plot to pilfer the prime real estate. “Heck no! We won’t go!” the patriotic picketers chant as progress creeps through their backdoor.