Jami- This was a gift to all of us who lived “The Wonder Years” within the community. You were driven by the energy that lingered within the light breeze, the soil, the empty homes that never matured to enjoy several generations (as most building do) … memories within the walls of every structure to tell the story of each single life that has passed through.

I’m grateful I was able to walk the desserted house one final time, to place my hand on the door I had flung open so many times as a child, to replay the memories … that is everyones midlife right — to back track and reconnect with emotions that were so innocent then, long before life became complicated for us. Your need to disconnect right now is merely the personal toll you bare for all of us who were apart of Carrollton Community. Thank you.

Cathartic for each and every reader of your blog. I am in NY City tonight, touched by your blog. It’s unbelieveable — my personal memories of a place far away, long ago, being shared by others who understand the loss.

I posted this 24 hrs ago but unsure if it went through so I am re-posting for you:

Imagine my shock as I stumbled upon your blog. I am, indeed a member of the first family who owned and occupied 12803 Primghar Dr. — of the now Lost Carrollton Community.

I commend you on the personal dedication and photographic detail as the mighty House fell November, 2007. Also, you took the time to sense that this property has lived within the hearts and memory of my family. This house, in particular, was as grande within the neighborhood as you described — Mostly due to it’s positioning at the split of Bittik Dr and Primghar, also was extremely visible from the interstate …it simply had a stately presence.

My memory floats along the sidewalks of Carrollton quite often. I see the neighborhood back in the mid to late 60’s, as my family moved on early 70’s. I can still follow the line of Christmas lights strung along nearly every roofline from the view of my bedroom window — there, where the dreams and plans for my lifetime were born…

After 40 years, I returned for a visit to Bridgeton with my Father (June 2007)… took a ride through Carrollton, specifically to walk through the neighborhood of my childhood. SHOCKING. I was not emotionally prepared for what I discovered .., better stated: For what I lost.

How strange that I felt a calling to pay a visit to the house as she was dying. Equally strange that I find your article detailing this loss November 29,2007, as I have often wondered since that June ‘07 trip, if by some chance, the house full of memories within each shingle and plank, might have been spared.

The experience is likened to discovering the obituary of the fondest childhood memories I know. Having lived many places, I have never known the “community” elsewhere, that lived within Carrollton. The people were special …they were my childhood.

I would very much like to contribute to your collection of Carrollton information WHEN you find the strength to forge ahead and continue your tribute to a neighborhood community lost within the politics and greed.

Again, thank you.

My mother moved into a senior building that was vacant for 15 years. There are no windows in this building. You have to go outside to get fresh air. It gets very dusty here and a strange white film is always around. Can you really clean “Asbestos” out of a 16 story building that was vacant for 15 years. Or did they build this building expecting the life span of these tenants, seniors not to cause the owners a problem. My mother like most tenants are 72 years old?

When I was oh about 10 years old my friend Mark showed me a way to sneak out onto Lambert Airport. We snuck down along Coldwater Creek and ended up at the departure end of the active runway. It was the mid 60s and the Vietnam War was heating up so McDonnell Douglas was cranking out their Phantom F-4 fighter planes like crazy. I’d sat in the cockpits at Lambert when Dad took me over there for employees’ day and now we were on a sneak & peek mission to see them fly.

It was early evening so the blue lights on the runway looked kewl as we crept along the creek bank. We found a good spot in the high grass to lay and wait, keeping an eye out for any airport security trucks that would occasionally drive around the ramps and taxi ways looking for trespassers.

Several commercial jets went over us and it was kind of a rush, feeling the power of their engines so close, straining hard to lift the big planes. The noise was extreme and we both covered our ears. Then we heard the unmistakeable sound of a jet fighter taxiing to the runway. There was a local Air National Guard squadron and Mac that flew the Phantoms. We peeked over the high grass to watch the plane roll down the runway, 2 long yellow orange flames of fire pouring out the tail. It’s hard to describe an F-4 in full burner, it’s a sound all its own. It sounds like the air is tearing, you feel the rumble starting to build as the plane gets nearer and then, as the jet passes, you get this tremendous rumble in your guts. Mark called it the “burner shake” and shake we did. As soon as the first F-4 flew out of sight we started high fiving each other saying how kewl it was and hoping for some more to take off.

One night we had 2 Phantoms take off side by side, we both stood up and danced around like goofballs watching the glow of the burners fade in the sunset. Most of the Phantoms we saw on the runway were painted USAF green camo. Once in awhile we’d see a Navy or Marine version which were gray.

We never did get caught by airport security but we did get busted by a taxiing fighter pilot one day. We were late getting to our viewing spot and as we ran down the creek to get to our lookout the fighter was already at the end of the runway in position and holding. The tower was using the opposite departure due to the wind and the 2nd seater in the fighter saw us and pointed us out to the front seater. We waved and saluted and both pilots saluted back. It was 10 times better than a train horn blast from an engineer I thought.

The hard part was we couldn’t tell anyone, especially our Mom and Dad.

I lived on Cypress Rd in St. Ann (PHS class of ‘77) and many of my friends lived in Carrollton. Larry Hulsey, Mike Dew, Rick Wilson, Roger Pipes, Dawn Millfelt, Mark Young. After joining the USAF I would stop by the Carrolton Club for a beer with the buddies still living there.

My friend Bob Cline lived on Primghar up until the end, the tri level house where Cardinal Orlando Cepeda once lived.

I still can’t believe Carrollton is gone.

Here’s to Carrollton