Shared Memory
The Visitacion Valley History Project is extremely interested in hearing some of your most vivid memories of your experiences living and/or working in Visitacion Valley. We plan to accumulate and preserve these for future generations. Please take the opportunity to share one or more of your special memories of our neighborhood with us.
I remember the time spent in McLaren Park and the swimming pool. Living across the park gave me access to an everyday adventure.
Riding horses and sliding down the hills on cardboard…
A great place to grow up.
Charles White
Rainy days during the school year had their good and bad points. We couldn’t go outside for recess, and were seated in the school auditorium to eat our lunches. (The school cafeteria hadn’t been built yet.) Naturally there was a lot of restless fidgeting and continual reminders to lower our voices during the 30-minute lunchtime. The good point was that we were let go early to make up for the lost playtime. I’m sure our teachers must have breathed sighs of relief at our departure. And we were happy with the early release and the prospect of some serious puddle jumping on the way back home.
Betty Parshall
Before Candlestick Park was built there was a rocky beach with no road. After the park was built my brother and I used to walk to the games. My grandfather always grew a garden and my father picked it up from him. They used to buy manure from a small farm in the hills above the Cow Palace.
David Merrill
Rainy days during the school year had their good and bad points. We couldn’t go outside for recess, and were seated in the school auditorium to eat our lunches. (The school cafeteria hadn’t been built yet.) Naturally there was a lot of restless fidgeting and continual reminders to lower our voices during the 30-minute lunchtime. The good point was that we were let go early to make up for the lost playtime. I’m sure our teachers must have breathed sighs of relief at our departure. And we were happy with the early release and the prospect of some serious puddle jumping on the way back home.
Betty Parshall