There is very little I know about you, but I have learned this. Your creator never left you, you have never been sold. You were built during prohibition. The last of your creators passed away recently, she and her family lived in and loved you for almost 80 years.
Your designer was flown in from Europe. After a tour of Hollywood homes, your designer sketched his vision of you on paper, a vision that would eventually come to fruition. You are different than the surrounding homes. You are grand.
Your main entrance is up a flight of stairs trimmed with European hand painted tile. The lower entrance has an iron speakeasy viewer. Did the women of the house visit in the kitchen while the men drank and smoked cigars downstairs? Was there ever any trouble during this volatile time in America when it was illegal to drink alcohol?
Did the family gather 'round the radio in the living room and listen to the news about Pearl Harbor? Did any of your creators' Sons or Nephews go off to the war? Did all of them come back?
How many historic moments were witnessed in your womb? The moon landing? The assassination of President Kennedy? The I Have A Dream speech? Woodstock? The demise of The Challenger? September 11?
How many celebrations were held in your presence? There must have been hundreds, maybe thousands of birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, graduations and baby showers. You must have been the venue for every special event, you were created especially for this family.
And now you stand empty, waiting for the next family to love you. Oh beautiful house, I wish you could talk. I have admired you from afar for many, many years, and I would love to hear what you have to say.
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