Blow out another candle of our memories…

There it was.  A perfect, partly cloudy, warm Sunday afternoon.  Hoffman’s Playland was packed, there were cars in auxiliary lots and across the street; lines of excited riders were queued up at the Ferris wheel and the roller coaster and the merry-go-round.

It was Hoffman’s Playland’s final day of operation.

And I needed to get some pictures.  That’s how I roll, I guess.

I thought about how many families passed through the turnstiles.  How many generations of parents and grandparents took their offspring to ride on every possible ride and attraction.  Maybe they scored a perfect 450 on the Skee-Ball game in the arcade.

And just like that… it was gone.  No amount of begging and pleading, no number of online petitions, nothing would save the park.  By now, the rides are most likely being disassembled, with the land possibly repurposed for some multi-use retail property.

You can’t build an amusement park like this today.  To even conceive of such a project, you would need zoning variances and a lot of town and village and county concessions.  Hoffman’s was built in the early 1950’s, and that allowed the property to have its rides and attractions “grandfathered” onto the property.

And for the next 60 years, Hoffman’s built its little niche of fun in the Capital District.  It was born in the era of the Mid-City Swimming Pool and the Mohawk Drive-In; when people ate Neba’s Roast Beef sandwiches and Mike’s Submarines; when the Tobin First Prize factory wasn’t a graffiti-coated eyesore and Hawkins Stadium hosted minor league baseball.

All of that is gone.

I shouldn’t be so wistful about this.  It’s not like my parents ever took me here.  And I’m not sure if I ever remember taking my kids here.  I’ve driven past the park several dozen times, and on occasion I’ve thought about stopping in and having a little fun day of my own.

But that was a long time ago.

As I walked through the park Sunday, I saw Daniel Berman – he of the FUSSYlittleBLOG.  Dan and his two kids were traveling through Hoffman’s Playland, and had already experienced a couple of rides.

I thought for a couple of seconds.  And then I reached in my back pocket.

See, I purchased a few ride tickets – either I would have waited in line and ridden the rides, or just saved them in a scrapbook.  No matter.  I gave the tickets to Dan, so that his kids could ride a few extra rides before the park closed.  He thanked me, and we went on our way.

Then I set up my camera at a very secluded location in the park, a spot where nobody else ever visited.

And just as I set my camera in place…

The Iron Horse chugged by.

Couldn’t resist getting this shot.

These are things I need to remember.  The moments where families could go somewhere and enjoy a great day, without having to take out a bank loan for admission and food and additional ride-ticket purchases.  Even today, it was free to stroll the grounds, and ride tickets remained reasonably priced.  Even when I returned to my car, I noticed that drivers were patient in the parking lot – if two cars arrived looking for the same spot, one would motion that the other should take the spot, sort of a “I’ll find another spot, you take this one” move.

Nice.

Part of me hates chronicling the loss of physical memory.  I’ve photographed the last moments of the Latham Water Tower as it was demolished; I watched as the Trinity Church in Albany was carefully razed to save its stained glass windows; I ate both a final meal at the Miss Albany Diner and a first meal at Sciortino’s; I watched as St. Patrick’s Church in Watervliet fought to stay intact until the bell tower finally crumbled… and I chronicled all of it in this blog.

Maybe I can’t have the physical memories, but there’s nothing that says I can’t at least enjoy the photographic and electronic memories.

Of course, silly me held out one final hope that the crowds that showed up on Sunday might convince the Hoffman family to keep the park open for another year.  Or at least to sell it to someone else.  But I saw the memorabilia being sold – sweatshirts and T-shirts with Hoffman’s Playland 1952-2014 silkscreened onto the fabric – and I knew this would be the park’s final day.

And if it had to be today, at least it was a beautiful day to go to the park.

I’ve gathered several pictures of Hoffman’s Playland this year.  I’ve shot the park with my digital camera and with my film gear.  Hopefully one of those pictures will pick up a ribbon in a future “competition season.”  Maybe.

But for now, it’s time to say goodbye.

Not a wistful goodbye, not a “please don’t go,” but more of a “I understand, thanks for being there” moment.