I was having a phone conversation with my cousin Brent, yesterday.  He lives a few hours away from me and we don’t see each other as often as we’d like.  My father was one of 11 children. His mother, my Auntie Reeva, is the last surviving member of that family tree, she is the youngest.

Our grandparents moved to Culver City from Duluth, Minnesota.  My grandpa worked as a carpenter.  By the time they arrived most of their adult children had already settled in and around Culver City.

We had 17 first cousins, most of whom are still alive today, scattered around from Culver City, the Valley, Torrance and my home town of Westchester, back in the 1950’s.

100 years ago, Culver City was a movie Mecca, for the MGM studios, providing jobs in the industry and putting this sleepy little city on the map. Today it is the location of Sony Studios.

I decided to take a ride over to a place we spent during our youth and send the photos on to Brent.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to find, because it’s set inside a very residential area; the famous Jackson Ave.I thought it was famous because that’s where I played for many years on the front lawn of my Grandma’s house and where the giant apricot trees in the backyard, dropped more fruit than any of our families could possibility eat.

I was pretty sad to see the condition of the house.  It appeared to be abandoned. I happened to have the opportunity to speak with a neighbor across the street and she confirmed, that nobody lives there, but it used for storage for some charity, she thought.  There went the plan of knocking on the door, but it also allowed me to get as close as I could without trespassing.It was in pretty bad shape. No improvements over all of these years; although, there was a garage at the end of this narrow drive way back when I was a kid.The large house replaced the small house where the scary barking dog would run along the chain link fence!

The front porch where we sat and played checkers looks so small now.So many memories of running out the front door, while the screen door slammed and somebody’s parent would remind us to slow down.What became of the giant apricot trees? Now it’s like the front of the house, a thing of the past.I have one more interesting side note to share. When my dad came home from the war, he called my grandma’s house his home.

The house directly on the other side of my grandparent’s house, not the scary dog side, was the home to a family with a daughter and son.  Who would have guessed that the daughter, would become my Aunt June? She married my mother’s brother.

Way before match.com and internet dating, my Aunt June met the young army man, that had just returned from the war, that was living next door to her parents. She thought, about her new sister-in-law, and the rest is history. Aunt June introduced my mother to my father and they were married in 1948.

With that story in mind, it seems only natural that I would want to share with my cousin Phil, on my mother’s side of the family, the house his mom lived in. The shrubbery is over grown, but still it is a memory.This tree that sits on my grandparent’s property represents to me, the tree of life, two families that blended together.  Aunts and uncles and cousins.  Those memories can’t be erased.Next week, I’ll introduce you to the Jackson Market, established in 1925. This is not a secret gem today; but it was when I was a little girl. Located just down the street from my grandparents, Jackson Market is still open for business and the line goes down the street at lunchtime for their famous sandwiches.

But just imagine how exciting it was to put on roller skates and get a candy bar all by yourself at the market! Seems like only yesterday!