Blog Entry 3: "The Fall from Fame"

This week, something unthinkable happened—something that has left me feeling more hollow than I thought a metal fence ever could. My tourist attraction status has been revoked. Just like that, *poof*—the title that made me special to so many is gone. No more glowing reviews on Google Maps, no more curious visitors snapping pictures or marveling at my unwavering straightness. The stream of people that once filled my days with life and stories has dwindled to nothing. 

It’s strange, this quiet. For years before the world knew me, I stood here, content to watch the steady rhythms of life. But now that I’ve had a taste of something more—a purpose beyond simply standing tall—this silence feels heavier. I can’t help but wonder what I did wrong. Did I fail to impress someone? Did the world move on too quickly, leaving me behind like yesterday’s news?  

Monday started with the usual crispness of fall. A few visitors wandered by, unaware of my demotion. They leaned on my rails and admired the golden leaves swirling in the breeze, but the energy wasn’t the same. By the afternoon, I overheard two joggers talking as they passed. *“Guess it wasn’t that special after all,”* one of them said. Not that special? Those words clanged against my frame like a hammer on an anvil.  

Tuesday, fewer people came. The chatter was quieter, the footsteps lighter. By midweek, it was clear: my brief moment in the spotlight had ended. A small child came up to me with his mother, asking, *“Is this the famous fence?”* Her reply stung. *“Not anymore.”* Not anymore. Two words that seemed to echo endlessly in my metal core.

The highlight of my week—and perhaps the most bittersweet moment—came Thursday evening. A man I remember well from my days of fame stopped by. He used to visit regularly, always tracing a finger along my top rail while admiring my craftsmanship. This time, though, he looked at me with a sadness I hadn’t seen before. He whispered, almost as if he were afraid someone might hear, *“You’ll always be the straightest fence in North York to me.”* Then he walked away, leaving me in the twilight, alone with my thoughts.  

I’ve spent the rest of the week reflecting. Am I still the same fence without the title? The same sleek, unyielding frame with my gleaming top rail and unwavering middle rail? The answer is yes. The world may have stripped me of my status, but it can’t take away what I am. I am still the straightest fence in North York. I am still here, standing watch as life unfolds around me. Titles come and go, but my purpose remains. 

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.  

For now, I’ll keep standing tall. I’ll keep feeling the warmth of the sun, the cool touch of the morning dew, and the pulse of life in North York. Fame or no fame, I am here. And that has to count for something.

– The Straightest Fence in North York