Early on in my life, I learned the importance of thought. To this day I still try to devote time to simply think and reflect. When I was younger I would lie down and let my mind weave through fleeting thoughts on school, inspirations for art, how to solve all the problems of the world, or simply wonder what the edge of the universe might look like (which I concluded long ago to be a dense, salmon-pink fog). Still, I never complain when I am left with a few moments alone because it gives me time to let my mind drift, all the while physically staring up into the oblivion. There were two places where I did most of my contemplation during my youthful Carrollton years- my bedroom and my backyard pool. Of my room, I could tell you the location of every glow-in-the-dark sticker in the shapes of stars and planets. The pool was also a great place to meditate as I could float around, letting the wind drift me from one edge of the pool to the other, all the while watching low overhead clouds and planes. In the cooler months when our pool was covered, I would simply lie on the deck and admire the real stars on the night’s chilly, velvety ceiling while wondering about the best ways to stop the destruction of the rainforest, what my future husband would look like, or why anyone listens to Michael Bolton.
So I find it rather strange that the two exact places where I spent endless hours of my youth contemplating the meaning of life has now opened up two rather largish sinkholes. My logical head realizes that there are many holes throughout Carrollton owing to the fact that the crews do not compact the ground when they are finished. Still, it is a bit unsettling (forgive the pun) that the two places I spent so much time dreaming up my future now is swallowing large portions of dirt deep into the underground. Maybe its just simply coincidence. Or, maybe there are some thoughts that need to be buried in time.
Nevertheless, watching these slight changes happening to land that once held up our homes make me ever aware of time’s finicky persistence. The past made us who we are today as a person. The present gives us new opportunities to learn a little something; it gives us opportunities to act. The future is the results of what we chose to learn; the results of those actions. Carrollton in general is giving us all an opportunity to learn about the effect of time on different people put through the same variable: an uprooting. It shows us how people still come back, driving around in wonder and in sadness. How people still cry when talking about being forced to leave. Carrollton has shown us how some people reestablish themselves, fully beyond any emotion or concern for their past home. It shows us how far the abuse of trust can go that even a decade later some people still live in fear of eminent domain. What is truly amazing to me is how so many lives have been affected by one simple action in time. So much can change in a handful of years and I eagerly await the outcome for our little corner of the universe. Hopefully, it won’t get greedily swallowed up and converted into something disgraceful. Hopefully, we will learn how something so simple as a bit of space called home can mean the whole world. Hopefully, I will learn to write down more of the things I think about instead of letting them fall into some forgotten sinkhole.
J. Desy Schoenewies
56 Houses Left 
Kudosto you, Nice post Desy.
This supreme court kingly configurations, minded to the tormenting’s of our peoples history and this United States constitution, must be rejected through the proper procedures that are constructed within our constitution, for this constitution to remain of any viable considerations to any and all of these essential parties of this very compact.
This is beautifully written Jami, far and away one of your best and most personal posts.
I too had those places of contemplation as you describe here. The front of our house at 12630 Lonsdale faced East towards the pool9 talk about a sinkhole now!) and the Clubhouse. I remember on fair summer evenings leaning up against my bedroom window screen listening to the “Splash Partiy” thatwas happening down there,seemed like a world away(3 blocks!) as the rumble of the band’s bass and drums echoed up the hill and into my world. I was too young to attend at the time of course and I would have to wait several years until full appreciation of all the excitement could come to fruition, as a lifeguard for the Carrollton Pool. An enviable position many would say, being paid to attend the Splash Party and listen to all that great music of the late ’60’s, the dancing…… not to mention the ….uh……people watching aspects!
Still the best job I ever had! Man if you like to contemplate then lifeguarding is the job for you!
There are many memories like that which I still treasure. But an oddity occurred to me as I read your post. At least an oddity for Carrollton residents.
I experienced the same phenomenon as many of my friends did at that time. Having finished high school I packed it all up and went away to college, sort of boxing up all those great memories I had of Carrollton and cataloging them over on some other shelf in my brain that I wasn’t using at the time. I was free! and excited to see what I could make of life and where I could go and what I could do, somewhat taking for granted all the great times I had growing up there…not really thinking about it that much I suppose. Like I say, I am sure lots of people go through this. The difference for those of us who were fortunate enough to have been able to call Carrollton home, is that now, those times are gone and those memories that nurtured with time and grew with all the fondness I could find to keep them alive are still very much a part of me, but the place itself, the very physical attributes of all the places we knew there, the places we played baseball, the homes of all of our friends that we knew inside and out, all the places we played hide and seek all the shortcuts to the pool or to school or to the bus stop or down to the shopping center and yes….even all the places where we used to go to contemplate or dream of what the future might bring ……….are gone, just leveled, simply as if they were never even really there, (when I visit there sometimes I am struck with this strange feeling that maybe they really weren’t!) just bare ground ,empty streets and sidewalks and yes……sinkholes.
Maybe our memories are more special and more intense because of this. I’m not sure. But there are at least 2 things that I am sure of:First, all of those memories are mine, mine and everyone else who lived there. Ours to keep forever…Lambert can’t touch them. And the second thing is: I am in total agreement with you………..the edge of the Universe is definitely salmon-pink!
O.K I’ve gone on too long .
Thanks for all you are doing to keep Carrollton alive and I shall leave with something written by Paul Simon.
“Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence,
A time of confidences.
Long ago…..it must be……
I have a photograph.
Preserve your memories,
They’re all that’s left you.”
oh and if you read this Kathy Clifford………..
What a blog but I don’t want to read further for fear of sloppy sentimentalism. After all I did move away from 14805 Bricelyn but my dad had to move and it broke his heart after building there in ’61. It’s nice to read of the pool-what memories-getting beat up by the kids at St. Lawrence when we cut through the playground high on the fenceline, checking out Cindy Campa’s tan on the lifeguard chair. My brother’s band played a lot of splash parties-Paul Cameron, Dave Gillette, Lyle Lambur & more…sigh.