It must have been around 1974—I was old enough to drive and had my own car—when I had an eerie adventure in my hometown of Whittier one summer evening.
In Missouri, I tend my grandmother's orchids each week, as I did at her home in Whittier. We have lost several over the years. Each year when the survivors bloom, they remind me of my grandmother’s garden and Whittier a long time ago.
Julie had pretty eyes and a Hobie 3.5 mètre boat which she sailed at Belmont Shores/Naples. During our budding friendship, I talked her into taking me sailing on a number of occasions. I also talked myself into taking on a big project for her boat.
Submit your stories and essays about your true experiences, memories, or adventures in Whittier, past or present. Submissions should be 500 words or less. The deadline to email your submission is February 29.
In the booming postwar economy, Harrison embraced a new architectural style and bestowed in on schools throughout Whittier. One writer said, “with these walls of glass, children became engaged and open-minded because the environment stimulated the senses in a different way.”
It was a bright sunny day. We drove to my grandparents’ home and walked over from there. I was 5 or 6 years old. I remember holding my father’s hand as we made our way over to the Quad. We were standing directly against the stage and I was looking up at Fleming and Eastwood as they spoke. When they finished, my father talked to each of them and then they leaned down and each shook my hand.