I moved into my first North Park home in 1985/1986. It was just a few years after the infamous San Diego PSA crash of 1978. We had rented a small rear-house on Boundary which is close to where the crash occurred; in the vicinity of Dwight & Nile near Chris' Market on Myrtle & Boundary. I was a young woman in my early 20's back then, and while I knew of the tragic event as did everyone in San Diego, I was a busy and preoccupied young mother with other more "important" things on my mind. It was a sobering and expanding experience for me when I began to hear first hand accounts from my new neighbors about the day flight 182 landed in their front yards... and changed their lives forever. I'll spare you the unpleasant details they often needed to share, but suffice it to say, these long-time NP residents became people I admired a great deal. They were heroic and generous in a situation where I concede I might not have done as well. They weren't the old codgers I'd first made them out to be. Uptown News did a story about the events here
They helped me learn that the little "oh so important" world I lived in was not, after all, the center of the universe. Life altering things happened to other people everyday...even in my own backyard.


