“If you wanna fix what troubles you, just ease down to the VFW.”

Toby Keith, “Call a Marine,” 2013

If I can reference two song lyrics in one column (and it’s mine, so I don’t know why I can’t), I got the call today I didn’t want to hear, but I knew that it would come.

Our esteemed editor, Seth Wright, shot me a message just before midday Monday asking if I’d run by and see the demolition taking place at the former home of VFW Post 5064, most recently known as Wild Bills’ BBQ before being sold to the local water department last year.

So, being the good soldier I try to be, I drove down Sparta Hwy., camera phone at the ready, to see what was going on.

And there was the VFW ... “The V,” just ... gone.

I can’t lie and say I didn’t know it was coming. But I also can’t lie and say it didn’t hit sort of hard.

You see, for a couple of generations, the local VFW is the place we grew up – or, at least, pretended to be grown up on the weekend. And to see it there - in pieces spread across the grounds where so many of my young adult memories were spawned - was disheartening, to say the least.

For several people my age and above, “The V” was the home of not only great food, including the best hamburger steak in town, it was the place we made the transition from McMinnville “kids” to McMinnville “adults.”

I remember years ago, during my first tenure at the Standard, when a co-worker I was sort of crushing on agreed to go out socially after work one day. We, of course, went to the VFW. I also recall, with a smile, being threatened physically by a disgruntled ex-reader because I happened to be at the bar ordering a beverage with our former editor. I’m not sure if this reader’s beef was with the editor or with myself, but it didn’t last very long.

Most importantly, I’ll never forget the nights I was able to spend on stage with our band, as we gave our all to entertain the weekend crowds. I should have bottled those memories, so I could pour them out on Saturday nights nowadays where a night of fun consists of carry-out meals and early bedtimes.

I could go on for hours with all the great – and not-so-great – memories the local VFW provided for my young adulthood. But, alas, space doesn’t permit - and the paper, like time, marches on.

But the hamburger steaks, Jaycee meetings, ‘Glyde concerts, dart league nights, class reunions and Brad McGregor Halloween parties will never be forgotten.

Mamie will never be forgotten.

Yes, progress must inevitably come. But it comes with a price. And “The V,” as we knew it, is a big price for our generation to pay.

Standard News Editor Rob Nunley can be contacted at rnunley@southernstandard.com