"Fifteen years is a good, long run" for any business, but for a venue in Gainesville, Florida -- a city where the scene seems to shift as often as the tides -- 15 successful years is a record. And, regretful as I may be to even mention it, the doors are closing on Common Grounds tonight one last time.
This is the epicenter of my young-adulthood. This is my home-base: my favorite place in not only the city, but anywhere. This is the place I am certain to feel at home -- a place I've walked into alone countless times, and left only after making a handful of new friends at whatever concert; a place I've gone to fully anticipating celebrating with strangers only to find I knew half the crowd. This place is my Cheers.
When they made the announcement in mid-June, I was too rattled to truly absorb it. But as time has gone on and the nightmare has turned to reality, I have come to accept it. Begrudgingly so, but still. I cannot fault Nigel or anyone else for being ready to move on to new endeavors. All I can do is hope that whoever fills this place fills it with as much passion as they have the last several years.
It's never been about the profit at Common Grounds. It has only been about two things -- the music and the people. That's what makes Common Grounds so significant -- they represent the people, not the scene. I can only hope in their dying days, they stood true to that thread.
I'm not there tonight, nor are any of my close friends -- but honestly, after we first arrived we never really left. Our asses have probably left impressions on the benches of the porch. Our beer cans left water rings. Our sweat -- and for some of us, even our blood -- stains the floor in front of the stage. We are Common Grounds. And whether it's doors are open or not, it still lives on in all our memories.
And while most of us may not know where to call home right now, I'm sure we'll adjust eventually. It's just incredibly difficult to wrap my head, and maybe I speak for all of us, around the fact that we won't be going to Common Grounds for our cheap musical thrills like karaoke, all the exciting concerts, and BBQs on the Porch. I feel displaced. I accept it, but I feel displaced. And I don't know where to go from here...
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