Places in our Family History

My family owned and operated a large board and care facility for the mentally disabled in Azusa, California. We called it Azusa Hacienda because of its white plaster walls, red-brick roof, stunning woodwork, and a huge mural in the common area of a Mexican fiesta. It was surrounded by a huge yard filled with fruit trees of all sorts and large hibiscus bushes- a real Southern California house. We found out after several years that it used to be a brothel and bar. Nevertheless, our family turned it into our gathering place, a place where uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents, and second cousins congregated to bask in the glow of family. No other place could have substituted for it. A major character in the lives of four generations of our family, it was truly a member of our family.

Well, as seems inevitable nowadays, the business was closed down. We tried to keep the house in the family, but it gradually became too expensive to keep up. So last year, we sold the house and closed a major chapter in our lives.

This leads me to a thought: what part do places hold in our family histories? It would seem places (like houses) take on a character of their own, a spirit, if you will. They facilitate gathering and celebrating and memories. When they are taken away, it seems there is a disruption in our gatherings until we can find another substitute. In our transient society where we uproot every two years, are we constantly severing these vital ties with the past and memory.

Just a thought…