Community Stories

Written By: Baxter Hankin

Aspiring Architect at QPK Design and President of the Syracuse Urbanism Collective

Trekking through freshly fallen snow beneath unbroken gray skies, we passed the Spirit of Light and strode atop a canyon of traffic. Past the industrial vestiges of yesteryear, we stumbled upon a neighborhood square. Even in the dreary cold, the green of the pine needles called from afar, surrounding a humble but proud gazebo. Wind whistled down the tree-lined streets where the five sisters stand, towards the old brewery guarded by a knight in armor. Faded footsteps and a few sets of new ones were scattered across the park. Some found the paths while others unintentionally stepped upon the hidden grass, as we did on several occasions. All was still other than the wind, the birds, and the faint hum of the city if you strained your ears to listen.

The snow was light and fluffy. Not the best for building anything, but it would have to do. We tried to roll snowballs on the cold earth, but they crumbled. In the end, we packed the snow together as tightly and as sturdily as we could, one misshapen sphere upon another. I spotted fallen twigs to our right, and a brittle leaf to our left. Breaking these into short and long segments, the arms, toothy smile, eyes, and nose of the snowman began to take shape. The leaf became his hat, secured to his head with another stick. And so, he was born, Bartholomew the Lantern Man, a local resident and lantern factory worker at the Dietz with a whole life and his own memories of this place that the world will never know.

We soon departed the windswept landscape, heading back into the heart of the city. Perhaps he’d be found by an imaginative child, or a curious dog during a morning walk. Or maybe we’d be the only ones to see him before he melted back into the earth the next day. We’d be back soon, though. We’d see more of the snow here, the lively annual festival, and all of the other seasons and neighbors in between. People would continue to enjoy picnics on a perfect summer evening, the swings on the playground, and happenstance conversations with each other, all as the ticking of time continues to move on through the years.