By Lori Welch Brown
I seriously cannot believe it’s August.
Where has the time gone? I feel like a parrot repeating the same thing over and over, but seriously—where has the time gone? As I get older, time feels more and more like a sprint and less like a marathon. I just had my first taste of blue crab and I’m staring down the barrel of back-to-school sales and boot collections. Whoa, Nellie. I still have more hot dogs and ice cream in my future. I haven’t even heard the crack of a ball against a bat yet. I love that sound!
Granted, I spent most of June and July painting getting ready for my show at Nepenthe Gallery (insert cheesy self-promotion here). Paint brushes are down for a minute—just long enough to grab an icy cold margarita, enjoy these last dog days of summer, and consider all the reasons I love Alexandria because awhile back, Nepenthe put out a call to artists for its upcoming exhibit, Alexandria Experience. Artists were asked to submit works that ‘reflect the artist’s reverence and/or affection for Alexandria.’ Sign. Me. Up.
Where do I begin? Where do I stop? I’m not sure I can adequately express my love in words, let alone images as my roots (and love) run deep.
My mom grew up in Del Ray. I was six years old when my grandfather passed, but I’m told he was at one time the mayor of what was then called Potomac. Although I grew up in Woodbridge, Mom was always finding excuses for us to come to Alexandria—mostly to her favorite restaurant, The Dixie Pig. In my many, many years of enjoying delish BBQ and coleslaw, I have never encountered any that holds a candle to the Pig.
Before we could nestle into those cozy booths, we had to do a drive by at the places she grew up—first, a house on Windsor Avenue, and then the house they moved to when she was a teen—the house at the corner of Russell and Bellefonte where her wedding pics were taken out on the front lawn before they trotted off to the Del Ray Baptist Church to exchange vows.
Whenever I drive by that house, I can see my mom and her sisters lined up on the front lawn. Mom with her tea length dress and veil, my aunts in sweetheart necklines, pearls, white gloves, and hats.
When I moved out on my own for the first time, I headed to an apartment off Duke Street. I could walk to the infamous Bombay Bicycle Club for karaoke nights—to this day, whenever I hear, ‘Baby Got Back’ by Sir Mix-a-Lot, I’m thrown back to the late 90s and a spot in the 22304.
As time passed and income increased, I was able to buy a very small condo in the 22314. In the late 90s, the north end of Old Town was a ghost town compared to what it is today. I remember my dad telling me I could buy a townhouse in Dale City with a two-car garage for what I paid for the 725 sq ft loft (a total steal by today’s standards), but I put my foot down. I wanted to be an Alexandrian! I had already fallen in love with Old Town—well maybe more accurately, with The Fish Market, Portner’s, Tiffany Tavern, and of course, Bullfeathers.
Old Town had a vibe (a word rarely used in the 90s, btw). You walked down the street and knew people. You felt safe. It felt like a really cool neighborhood. Sure—there were tourists, always tourists, but there were familiar faces. And dogs. Always dogs. Another reason to love Old Town. It’s always been one of the most dog-friendly places I know.
After a decade in Old Town, I grew out of my space—and my friends and family were tired of walking up three flights of steps to visit me. It was time to relocate. While my income had increased, it had not grown enough by Old Town standards. My realtor gently suggested that I move across town to Del Ray. At first, I balked. What?! I wanted to be where the action was. Sure—Del Ray had Mt. Vernon Avenue, but it didn’t have King Street. It wasn’t the 22314. But then I found a place I LOVED and the deal was done. I was now a 22301 girl.
Now I look back and wonder why I ever batted an eyelash about moving into Del Ray. First, Mom, who had passed away earlier that year, would have been thrilled that I was back in her old stomping grounds. Actually, I’m pretty sure she helped broker the deal. Second—Del Ray had its own unique vibe. It was hip and edgy in a way Old Town wasn’t. And—Old Town was still within throwing distance—not my throws, but you get my drift. My Saturday morning runs got a little boost, but still had me going past familiar haunts. And now I had new places—St. Elmo’s, the Y, Mancini’s, Monroe’s, Taqueria Poblano. And Kiskadee. God, I miss shopping there.
That period in Del Ray ended up being one of the happiest times of my life. I had great, fun neighbors. My heart still yearns to walk out the door and see Jason and Lisa embarking on a new home improvement project. We were all on the verge of adulthood and careers and figuring life out while tending to lawns and DIY’ing before DIY was a TikTok thing. We did it because we were broke! My husband, XXL, still tells the story about calling me for a date while I was helping Jason jack hammer his patio so he could surprise Lisa with a new one when she got home from a trip. “Remember when we first met and you used power tools?”
If we weren’t on my front porch, we were cooking out in the back yard alley. We all loved each other so much we installed a gate in the chain link fence that separated our houses because someone, aka Robert, may or may not have injured himself jumping between yards to retrieve a beer out of the cooler. Not that life was all about partying—okay, maybe it was, but mostly what I remember is the people. Life in Del Ray was amazing.
I haven’t traveled a ton, but when XXL and I started thinking about where to retire, we both said two things—1) we wanted to be near the water, and 2) we wanted someplace like Alexandria. Turns out there is no place like ALX—it is truly one of a kind.
About the Author: Lori is a local writer, painter and pet lover who loves to share her experiences and expertise with our readers. She has been penning a column for the OTC for over 25 years. Please follow Lori online on Medium for more missives like this.