After business was done for the day, I headed out of the hotel and drove east on Montana several blocks until I came to Yarbrough Drive, and turned right. The strip malls and gas stations of Montana gradually gave way to more residential neighborhoods, with the occasional mini-mart on the corner, until I got to the 2800 block and the Camino Real apartments.
Turning in, I recognized immediately the pool and community center in the middle of the complex; I remember many days spent there. Clockwise around that structure, I passed a set of apartments before spying my old building in the corner.
I could still make out the last bedroom at the far end of the first floor, which had been mine; however, what stuck me the most was the fact that trees had gotten in the way in the meantime. I remember a lighter-colored place; I remember the grass being continually brown, and certainly no trees. And perhaps it was the late afternoon sun playing tricks, but I thought I remembered it a much more light tan exterior.
Not having a lot of time, I didn't get out to walk around, but instead proceeded to the rest of the complex, and then drove to East Point Elementary, where I had spent third grade with Miss Escobar's class 3-4 so long ago. Coming upon it two blocks away from the apartments, I was struck by how close it was; 36 years ago the walk seemed so much longer. However, much looked familiar: the curved outside of the building facing the playground, and the baseball diamond in the far corner were both familiar. I stood at the corner that once had been the gate I walked out each afternoon (now it's closed off) and where Jacqueline Glass' maid used to wait to walk her home. I wonder whatever happened to Jacqueline.... I did notice that the playground and the swing set where we used to play at recess had been moved; also that the playground now had an extensive canopy over it to protect from the harsh Texas sun. No such canopy when I was there, I can tell you that.
The final stop was the East Point Park nearby, which in the mid-70s featured a playground with a jungle gym shaped like a rocket ship. I loved that jungle gym and would play at it any time I had a chance. However, the intervening years have done much to the park, which is now headed by a large rec center and covered in Little League and soccer fields. The only playground I saw was far too new to have what doubtless was a rusty old jungle gym on it anymore.
While certain vistas brought back memories (the playgrounds at school, the pool, and the exterior of the apartment), so much time had passed that much of it had lost its immediacy and the strength of memory had gone. Additionally, I was somewhat surprised by another thing missing: I had expected to have felt strong emotions about my Dad at these sites, especially the apartments, but that was not the case. While the whole purpose of our being in El Paso those many years ago was for his assignment, somehow it didn't bring to mind the swell of Dad memories I had expected. It's said that "you can't go home again," and at least in this instance I would agree, since these old sites didn't have the pull of "home" to me anymore. I'm glad to have had the chance to see them again, but I'm also glad I didn't invest in a plane ticket there myself, as I think it would have been a waste. Instead, I turned the car back north on Yabrough, and west on Montana, and finished out my business in El Paso without scarcely thinking of it again.
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