A Picture is Worth A Thousand Words

There is an old saying, “a picture is worth a thousand words,” which is so true. Hanging on the fridge were a couple of pictures of my oldest son, John, and my daughter, Brooki. They are sitting with me at the doorsteps of the William S. Hart Home in Valencia, California. It is the first week of September 2001. My youngest child, Seth was spending the weekend with his father. The picture is of us sitting at the doorstep with a part of the balcony showing. It is significant for a number of reasons. First and foremost, it had been about twenty years since I was last at this very spot. I was a teen-ager then. Now, in this photo, I am there with my own teen-agers explaining the importance - a part of their mom’s history.

          When I was a kid, some of my friends could drive long before I could (about two years before me). One of their favorite places to roam was the William S. hart Park. I think it is now called something more sophisticated. But to us, and still to me, it will always be “Hart Park.” It was once the home of the cowboy actor whom the property is named for. When he died, he willed it to the County of Los Angeles, allowing the public free access.

          There was a petting zoo, acres of land to wander on, a souvenir shop, and several buildings to walk through. One could easily explore a time that no longer existed. It was a wonderful place to be a kid because of the freedom to be unrestricted. The acres were filled with trees, grass, hills, trails, and more. In order to view the main house, patrons had to wait outside the door for a tour guide to escort them through. The wait was thirty minutes or less. To us kids, 15 minutes was considered too long. To pass the time we drank our cokes while Johnny Hayes, Mark Dow, or Billy and Scott Schumacher would hang from the balcony. They chased each other through the bushes. Climbing onto the railings and sliding the very short distance was also not uncommon.

          As I look at these two pictures, I can see those long ago kids still in motion. It would also not surprise me if they had actually climbed onto the balcony and crept along under the windows. I still see them scooting through the bushes surrounding the house, something I would never allow my own kids to do. And as we traipsed over the very trails we, as kids took so long ago, I was a teen-ager again skipping in the very same way that I did back then.

          As I mentioned before, the same holds true here. Our bodies are constantly changing. Our minds mature with experience. But we still feel the same feelings as when we were children. When a familiar scent is in the air, we are transferred back to where we were when first we smelled the experience. I believe that life is for growing and progressing to new heights, but I also believe that we need not forget the way we felt or the scents that define who we are today.

          In my memory, the corner of Tuba and Noble was a fantasy world all in its own. It was always green, even the fall had a lot of green to it. It was a place where kids were free just to be. There is the picture of the neighborhood boys playing football in the street. Billy is wearing the jersey for the Los Angeles Rams. He is getting ready to kick the ball. Mark Dow is waiting for his turn behind Billy. David Van Dam is just waiting. The weather is mild-looking, somewhat green - a snap-shot into the everyday life of some ordinary kids doing ordinary things.  

Kelli L. McDonald 6/8/2012