A letter from Beth- Sept 18, 2007

Hi Bob...

I saw it.
I didn’t want to see it.
I didn’t know I was going to see it when my husband told me he was taking me and the kids over to an “Open House,” where some of his builders would be – they would have hot air balloon rides, face painting, burgers and hot dogs, ice cream...fun for all. (my husband’s company does theatre rooms and security systems, and he wanted me to meet some of the folks about whom he speaks.)
I couldn’t believe it when we pulled in.
I know my husband didn’t give it a second thought – he knows my past from FSC, and said afterwards he didn’t realize how profoundly I would be affected by being there.
I stood outside the beautiful model homes, walked by myself past the Ben & Jerry’s cart, and took myself to the top of the dirt mound. I figured out exactly where I was by the sun in the 3:00 sky...and as I revolved, I saw the old rickety barn with “Fort Scott” still painted on its side. And then, exactly what I feared would happen, happened. I bust into absolutely uncontrollable tears... and could NOT stop (in fact, I was still crying on the drive home...)
Even the names of some of the streets – Bugle Way – made me weep. Most of the area is unrecognizable...although I did stand on what I’m sure was the “Girls Lodge” hill.
I will not go on and on about it. It is what it is. What angers me is that, like most things, it all comes down to the “almighty” dollar.

But *no one* can take away our memories...