I don't know of many people who follow the news these days expecting it to give them warm and fuzzy feelings. Even so, it was a real gut punch when I saw a recent news alert about the demolition of RiverGate Mall in Nashville.

Since malls have been in decline for decades, it wasn't a huge surprise. That didn't make it sting any less.

If you're of a certain age, you may relate to this feeling. There was a time, not so long ago, when malls felt like the centers of the cultural and social universe in American towns across the country.

RiverGate was built in 1971, which means I have no memory of a time when it didn't exist. It was the closest mall to my childhood home in East Nashville, so my family spent a lot of time shopping there and at the businesses in its orbit while I was growing up.

In my teenage years, it was one of the places where my friends and I hung out. When I returned to Nashville for a few years as a middle-age adult, I still did some of my Christmas shopping there.

Even back then, there were signs the mall would someday be headed to the big closeout sale in the sky.

When I texted a childhood friend who still lives in the area about RiverGate's demolition, he informed me that there had been several "shoot-outs" at the mall, which, in his view, "added a little excitement to the shopping experience."

Malls like Nashville's RiverGate were more than the sum of their parts

So RiverGate probably was past its sell-by date. The building itself was no architectural marvel. It looked like a typical American mall.

But there was something more to it than the bricks and mortar or the businesses that operated inside them. RiverGate, in its heyday, offered a sense of community that's hard to find in 2026.

Malls used to be like watering holes on the Serengeti, where all sorts of creatures would gather and learn to coexist.

Standalone stores attract only the particular type of people who buy the items they sell. Malls, by contrast, put many types of stores together, ensuring people with different interests and backgrounds would interact.

Malls like RiverGate weren't just places to buy stuff, though. People enjoyed the experience of being there.

Groups of senior citizens, attracted by the security and climate-controlled comfort, used to walk mall corridors early in the morning before the rush of shoppers arrived.

Pushcart vendors offered an Americanized version of the outdoor bazaar experience popular in some foreign countries, pleading with passing shoppers to venture a little closer and sample their wares.

Exasperated husbands could relax in vibrating recliners while their wives kept bargain hunting.

Around Christmastime, kids could share their hopes and dreams with Santa while musicians tried to relieve some of the holiday stress.

Even in a fairly large city like Nashville, there was always a chance of running into friends or neighbors at the mall.

I'm guessing people who grew up around malls all across America, even if they've never been to Nashville or set foot in RiverGate, feel all of this.

Like watching the Super Bowl or eating turkey at Thanksgiving, visiting the local mall was an experience most Americans had in common. Without fail, those trips seemed more fun and satisfying than doomscrolling or arguing with strangers on social media.

Progress is unrelenting, but what will replace malls?

This isn't to suggest the country should invest billions in sprucing up decrepit malls or frog-march people back to shop in them. Time has moved on. Consumer habits have changed.

On the same day I started writing this column, I made two online purchases. I'm aware of what century this is.

I just think sometimes, as progress marches forward, we need to take stock of what we may be leaving behind.

In a world where many of us feel isolated and lonely, trapped in our own personal bubbles, community gathering spots could offer an antidote.

So RiverGate Mall is disappearing, except for two department stores and a Guitar Center. (It is Nashville, after all.)

In its place, there are plans for apartments, townhomes, senior living units, plus retail and dining space in a "pedestrian-friendly" master planned community.

Could the new development become the modern equivalent of a community gathering space, the way RiverGate was to earlier generations? I sure hope so.

We need something to fill the void, in Nashville and elsewhere.

Blake Fontenay is USA TODAY's commentary editor.

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