Of Late, I Think of Leesburg............

A few years ago, I came across a cute mug which proclaimed “Grow Where You Were Planted”. Now, I am a collector of mugs, among other things, and as I looked at the adorable, Mary Englebreit illustration, I thought , to myself, this really doesn’t pertain to me. You see, I live in Los Angeles and am not a product, but a transplant from another place. A place, that during my childhood, was a small, yet thriving, southern town. I hail from Leesburg, Virginia. In the 50’s, 60’s and early 70’s, we had everything we needed in Leesburg and were not aware of anything that we might not be able to find there.
Leesburg, Virginia sits about thirty miles northwest of Washington, D.C., so the view you get of the world is highly political. But as kids those politics had no bearing on who we were or who we might become. As children, we eagerly welcomed the freedom that this small town offered us and as teenagers sometimes shunned the “everyone-knows-everyone-else” status of the town. But Leesburg was my home and of late, I think of Leesburg.
I think of my neighborhood , Prospect Hills with it’s neat lawns and neat houses. Prospect Hills was something new and different to Leesburg in 1958. It was a community of tract homes that were built among the farm land along Dry Mill Road. I was among the first to move to Prospect Hills. I have seen pictures of my parents proudly looking at the marked out plot of our house, perched on a hill, rope attached to stakes to show how it would overcome the land. Our street, Lafayette Terrace, was the entrance to Prospect Hills and for those of us that lived there, it seemed like bragging rights. After all, we had the grassy island with the two mimosa trees for climbing and we had the rights to brick sign which announced the neighborhood. We on Lafayette Terrace were the elite of Prospect Hills and, I think, everyone new it.
It was a neighborhood of energy. Most of us were born towards the end of the year and there was camaraderie in that. We were also a warring group, but that was for survival. We biked, we skated, we played war (boy, did we play war) and of course, we girls played dolls. We did this from sun up until sundown or until our mothers whistled for us to come home. The whistles were distinct in our neighborhood. Mrs. Kaylor’s was the best. Loud and clear, we believed it could be heard for miles. My own mother used a more conventional sports whistle, but it did the job.
During those times in Leesburg, Virginia, I felt a security like I had never felt before. We had everything nestled into one small town in one small county and needed for nothing. No one was going to rob us or hurt us, we had the Leesburg Town Police to protect us. And the Cuban Missile Crisis? Well, the cold war was a big topic in Leesburg, among grownups and children alike, but the missiles were going too hit D.C. We were only going to get a little bit of the fallout from the bombs, not enough to do any harm. And besides, if we hid in our basements like good little children, all would be fine and we would re-build the world!
In Leesburg, I felt, no I knew that I could accomplish anything. I could grow a watermelon from the seed of a watermelon simply by pushing it in the ground. Or, I could be heard on WAGE radio with Loudoun County High School’s Raiders on the Air. Or, I could leave Leesburg and move west to the City of Angels to become an actress. After all, how much different could Los Angeles be than Leesburg? It was just bigger, but the people would all be the same. Right?
In 1979, I moved to Los Angeles with realism not stardust, in my eyes. And I became, at that time, a working, card carrying professional actress. I knew the odds and in many ways, I beat them. In others I let them beat me. But, always in my mind there is Leesburg. There is the strength I derive from growing up, nestled in its warmth. Leesburg is where I knew I could become or accomplish anything. And with Leesburg in my heart, I can go and do anything!