01-12-09
I don't know if I could ever describe the beauty of the place that I have in mind but I shall try. I went on my first real vacation 2 years ago to Ocean City, Maryland and that was pretty fun but when I was younger we spent a week every summer in Wheeling, West Virginia, with family. I never appreciated that amazing place until we skipped it one year for the Ocean. Wheeling...there really isn't much to it for most people but for me it holds practically everything. West Virginia was my happy place when I was younger. I have no bad memories of that place, only good. Everyone there is pretty much family and the sceneryand architecture is desolate in a hauntingly beautiful way. It was once a city for many, mostly coal miners, but now it is a dead place with old wrecked buildings with properties that hold better cars than houses. For years it was the center of everything; back then I never noticed how dead it was. At 14 I picked up on its death and lack of growth, except for the ivy that continues to grow and grab hold of and cover all that it can. This place, I thought at 14, was a dump.... but Wheeling transformed for me very quickly. Itwas no longer the dead city I though but a city of possibilities.
Every family has it's oddities and my family most definitely does. My family is a little interesting but my perspective has changed over the past few years. My Dad has a real firm grip on family history and his father has a real firm grip on stories. I remember the past few summers I spent there so clearly. The stories my Pap told me and the taste of family history my Dad gave me. Pap decided, after much begging, to take us graveyard walking at night. He took us to one that we had visited, biked to and just rambled through on many occasions but then he turned our heads when he suggested taking us to another graveyard. This one didn't hold any family but the stories he told us that night were so vivid. History became alive to me, I could see what his life had once been. He showed us the old buildings he played in as a child, the theatre he would sneak into and the graveyard he walked through every night to get to work. The stories were haunting and thrilling because they were his past, something he never talked about to us. West Virginia has always been my favorite vacation spot and always will be.
I could go on but I won't bore you. Wheeling, West Virginia is more to me than any other place. It's gorgeous, it's decrepit, you can see the past everywhere you turn and you can see yourself more clearly with all it can teach you.
I don't know if I could ever describe the beauty of the place that I have in mind but I shall try. I went on my first real vacation 2 years ago to Ocean City, Maryland and that was pretty fun but when I was younger we spent a week every summer in Wheeling, West Virginia, with family. I never appreciated that amazing place until we skipped it one year for the Ocean. Wheeling...there really isn't much to it for most people but for me it holds practically everything. West Virginia was my happy place when I was younger. I have no bad memories of that place, only good. Everyone there is pretty much family and the sceneryand architecture is desolate in a hauntingly beautiful way. It was once a city for many, mostly coal miners, but now it is a dead place with old wrecked buildings with properties that hold better cars than houses. For years it was the center of everything; back then I never noticed how dead it was. At 14 I picked up on its death and lack of growth, except for the ivy that continues to grow and grab hold of and cover all that it can. This place, I thought at 14, was a dump.... but Wheeling transformed for me very quickly. Itwas no longer the dead city I though but a city of possibilities.
Every family has it's oddities and my family most definitely does. My family is a little interesting but my perspective has changed over the past few years. My Dad has a real firm grip on family history and his father has a real firm grip on stories. I remember the past few summers I spent there so clearly. The stories my Pap told me and the taste of family history my Dad gave me. Pap decided, after much begging, to take us graveyard walking at night. He took us to one that we had visited, biked to and just rambled through on many occasions but then he turned our heads when he suggested taking us to another graveyard. This one didn't hold any family but the stories he told us that night were so vivid. History became alive to me, I could see what his life had once been. He showed us the old buildings he played in as a child, the theatre he would sneak into and the graveyard he walked through every night to get to work. The stories were haunting and thrilling because they were his past, something he never talked about to us. West Virginia has always been my favorite vacation spot and always will be.
I could go on but I won't bore you. Wheeling, West Virginia is more to me than any other place. It's gorgeous, it's decrepit, you can see the past everywhere you turn and you can see yourself more clearly with all it can teach you.
Good description of Wheeling. I like the part about Pap.
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