Recently, Facebook reminded me of a post I made in 2014. I copied that post and saved the accompanying photo I captured out of the window of my car, and planned on publishing what I wrote and the photograph as a sort of stroll down memory lane. But I realized I didn’t have much of a memory lane to scroll down, so that led me to the Internet. With what I remembered of the house, I did a search and found a Facebook account (credit to Facebook account Abandoned Steve, and photos will be credited to their owners) and a YouTube channel featuring abandoned mansions and properties in Pennsylvania (again, all credit to Abandoned Steve). I found the house which I had always called “My House,” because as a small child, barely able to see above the door and out of the window, and down the long driveway to the terra-cotta roof tiles, I always wanted to live there. And by live there, I mean I wanted to purchase the house when I was a grown-up. My mom told me stories of “The Doctor’s Mansion,” and I had all but forgotten most of the details, which weren’t very many to begin with. I found out today it was called Bella Vista by the surgeon who owned it and helped build it. Yes, a surgeon at a local hospital was also the general contractor on the project. Can you imagine how that went? More on him later. He was quite something, in a good way.
I am still going to post my original Facebook memory about this house, but I am going to post the beginnings of the house before I post the end. I sadly still don’t have too much information, but I am still doing research and if I come up empty-handed, I’ll employ my writer’s mind to add details. Do stay tuned for this post, but please be patient as I still have to do research on the house, and my new job training continues to be my number one priority. And also my number one vehicle to exhaustion.
When that Facebook memory popped up, a small spark that had temporarily been snuffed out by new work obligations, training and an exhausted mind and body, to be quite frank, was lit again. My muse this time is a small child’s long-ago memory that I can bring back to life. I am old enough, my creative mind now developed enough to put the awe I felt into words. I can now hear the parties held at the mansion: live music, clinking glasses and uproarious laughter amid extended family and friends on sixteen acres of a beautiful view.
“It's Amy,” I said. 