Christmas Walk to Mom’s House

As I am walking, I realize I will probably not walk this path again. Most likely, I will be somewhere else this time next year.

A glance down the street reveals a serenely modern view.

Around the corner is a new house in progress. Probably the first of a sequence of houses.

I look ahead on the side with the nice housing arrangement as I originally had planned to take a right and go the direct path on to my mother’s house.

Then I decided another route would be more meaningful.

As I walk, I take stock of the changing nature of this neighborhood. The red house further down is brand new with more houses being built on that side of the street. Across from it is another new house.

Minutes later I am out by what used to be Washington Douglass School. Oddly enough after passing this way by another route by car for a year, I am only now realizing the building is gone unless I missed something. I attended school there for a time and met a very sharp librarian who later became my teacher years later in the subject of history. Washington Douglass was a good school in a tough situation.

After crossing through some back streets, I am at the place I lived for nearly 4 years. The house on the right is where I lived. Across from it lived one of my best friends. In the back, the big dome is part of the high school I attended. As I walk down the street, the dogs stop barking as they realize there is something familiar about me and this place.

At the end of the street, on the left is the first public school I ever attended. I still have many pleasant memories from my time at that school. It does not look like it once did, but it was a great place where there was a strangely effective approach to teaching people to read. I remember a very strong literacy focus at that school.

I look across from where I am standing to see the track where I first improved my basic abilities in running. Between the dome and the track is open area where I spent a few short years drilling in junior ROTC. Much further down the street is the fourth part of a 4-part campus (the school was large in its heyday). I learned many things about many things across the 4 campuses. Even further down from there is a college where I spent several summers getting immersed in even more knowledge as well as social, artistic, and cultural matters.

After I cross through the front school yard into the main street, I look down and realize I have made many a journey, on foot, down this street many, many years ago.

Read on for Part II of this story.


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