How did I get here? A question I ask myself often.
Much of my early life growing up was spent moving from home to home until homeownership for my parents came in the form of a manufactured mobile home in a small town. A far cry from Monte Vista. Now, this isn’t a rags-to-riches story. My parents spent every dime they had to give my eight siblings and me the best life and, eventually, got us into their dream home, to college — only to lose it during the Great Recession. I have been blessed more than anything.
This is more a story about Jed Clampett — without “Oil, that is. Black gold. Texas tea.”
When people speak about Monte Vista, located north of downtown and developed during San Antonio’s “Gilded Age” before the Great Depression, what often comes to mind is the grandiose architecture begotten by the opulence of the past. Monte Vista is a relic of a bygone era. However, that only tells a small piece of the history of this neighborhood.
Generations have passed through the halls of these homes, each telling a different story.
Our home was built on the “Avenue of the Cattle Barons” by a Jewish immigrant, Jack Donzis. A stunning, original stained glass window proudly displays the initial “D” — his surname as well as ours — a selling point for us.
Monte Vista’s central location, its sprawling yards, tree-lined streets and well-maintained sidewalks made it an easy decision for a family whose mission is to fill the sidewalks of our urban neighborhoods with strollers, bikes and trikes.
Our church, Trinity Baptist, and Landa Library are just a few blocks away. The scramble to get three kids out of the house for Sunday morning worship is made infinitely easier by its walkability.
And Landa offers a shaded park perfect for a reprieve from our increasingly hot summer days. We have been fortunate to call Monte Vista home. However, cost of living, infrastructure shortcomings and urban sprawl have pushed younger families from the urban core. Our biggest hope is to see the urban core preserve and persevere, especially for families. Preserving our built environment and persevering through change to deliver more housing affordability and stability.
I never thought we’d be able to live in Monte Vista. Sitting in our playroom or watching our kids play in the yard, I can’t help but think about my mom. How she and my dad struggled for what seemed like my entire life to get us into the “dream home,” only to lose it.
I think about how proud she would be of how we found a way to get here, to Monte Vista. But I also think about that little kid who watched that struggle and how my dad would tell me, “I don’t know what I would do without your mom because all that matters to her is that we’re all together.”
Words I will never forget. Words that remind me: It’s not about the home but the people you share it with. And our kids wouldn’t know a Monte Vista mansion from a manufactured mobile home. They’re just happy we’re all together, and so are we.
With that being said, I still can’t help but feel like that small town kid living in a trailer. But maybe Monte Vista needs Jed Clampett.
