We would hang out, shop, and ice skate at Lloyd Center as kids. Almost all the stores from back then are gone. I think I ended up there the other day because everything is up in the air—my mom’s health, the country, the world. Something to do with not feeling my feet on the ground. Something to do with architecture—the angles and lines made perfect sense. Maybe this solid, old, familiar structure had held some part of me for safekeeping. The part that convention says I should abandon during a crisis.
The security guard tried to tell me I needed a permit from the property manager to take pictures of the exterior and arguing didn’t work, so I hung out inside for a while.
It’s a Friday afternoon and the mall is quiet, like a million-square-foot library. The west end is lit by a few flat beams of sunlight spilling onto the faux marble floors, and all I hear is my own footsteps. I tried looking through the metal storefront gates to see what was left in the shops. Dusty display cases, a broom, boxes sealed with tape. Were they moving in or out?
I found a pinball museum on the second floor in the old Spencer’s. I studied vintage photos of Lloyd Center, leafed through a photography book of 80s mall interiors, looked inside a 1984 Bally X’s & O’s under repair, and tried one of the machines. The owner gave me a tour of the mall and introduced me to other shop owners. People are collaborating, keeping up with each other, doing creative things. I listened as the pinball curator and another shopkeeper discussed making a Mousin’ Around pinball machine enclosure for the retired research mice living at the secondhand pet supply store. In a keyboard shop, I asked for a demo of a Roland synthesizer and admired a 70s era Yamaha with a wood enclosure. Maybe now is a good time to start piano again.
I didn’t see any customers in the shops except two guys looking at gold jewelry in some glass cases, a place called Treasure Island. Everything was thirty percent off, a lady told us as we peered through the glass.
I went to find the birds in flight sculpture over the food court. Two people having lunch looked up as I walked by and without words we agreed it was strange and fun being in the deserted mall.
I looked over the railing down to the first floor. The skylight made a grid of sunlight on the ice rink and an older couple in matching red sweaters glided across it. Rapture was playing over the loudspeaker. As I rode the glass elevator down, a girl was skating with her arms stretched in front of her and it reminded me of when they would run on Scooby Do. It always gave me a precarious feeling, like when you’re groping around in the dark in an unfamiliar place.
Outside feels more like back in the day. Probably because the mall used to be open-air. The security guard must’ve gone to lunch because he wasn’t around when I came back out.
Maybe when I was a kid we parked in this same spot, near the old Meier & Frank. ✦
Lux Raggedy Duffle by Vic Spencer, feat. The Legendary Traxster & Buk of Psychodrama. Prod. Earl Saga. From the album Being The Bigger Person Sucks, 2024 Old Fart Luggage Records