A Place That Matters
Ancestral places are what shaped my ancestors, their lives, and the lives of their children. So is it possible to choose one that matters more than any of the other places? It isn’t possible for me. So instead, I am going to do a little play on words for this week’s post. The place that matters most to me is the grey matter in my brain that hold the memories of all these places. I remember Atlantic City, where my mom and grandparents lived. What grand times we had there, with days at the beach, supper at the Morton Hotel, walks on the boardwalk, buying salt water taffy (whose was the original?), Mr Peanut, the rolling chairs, sleeping in my grandmother’s room with the window open and smelling the breeze from the ocean. It was an amazing time. Of course this was before gambling was started, and most of the old hotels and buildings were torn down to make way for the casinos. Such a great loss. ...