In the late ’70’s, for about one year, I lived in a group residence for troubled teenagers or teenagers who could not live at home for a variety of reasons.  The building it was housed in was an architectural standout even if it didn’t date very well, and won a couple of awards for architecture in its time.  (I’d post a photo because there is one on Google images, but I don’t want to give away too much information so I won’t do it).

One of my weird geeky hobbies is taking “virtual road trips” using Google maps.  I decided to “visit” the old ‘hood, and the address  typed in took me to a building I have never seen before.   I thought I made a mistake, but nope, the address was the right one.  I did some further sleuthing and found out the building was demolished in 2003 because the enterprise that bought out the address didn’t think the building suited their needs.   The residence center closed shortly before the demolition.  I had no idea this happened until about an hour ago.    I was gobsmacked by how grief stricken I felt–over a building I lived in for one year in the late 1970’s that has been gone for 13 years.   I actually had some great memories of that place and felt that it helped me.  I had a great counselor there.  I fell head over heels in love with a boy who lived there the same time I did.   We were both kicked out and sent back home because of “PC” (physical contact) on the premises.  I found out several years back that he died sometime in the late ’90s.  Life marches on, things change, or even disappear, and then they are forgotten.     Life is full of fleeting moments like that.  Someday in the not too distant future, even my memories will be lost.