I always assumed that I would move away from the town where I grew up in New Jersey. After all, both of my parents did, as did their parents. We are somewhat unusual in that multiple generations of our family have left home and moved to other states and cities. Usually it was because of school or work, or for the Army during World War II. When I moved into my first "grown up" apartment in Baltimore, I was nervous, but excited. I lived on the corner of Centre Street, right across from the Maryland Historical Society. The Historical Society was located in an old art deco Greyhound bus station, which scored major bonus points from my father. My dad was an interesting guy who had a lot of different hobbies and interests. At the time, he was collecting postcards of old Greyhound bus stations, with a plan to ultimately write a book about their architecture. When he first looked out of my apartment window, he got excited because he knew he'd seen that bus station before. Sure enough, when he got home he mailed me the postcard. Since my new career was in museums, I liked the connection to the historical society, as well as the connection to my dad who shared an interest in the building. I framed the postcard and have displayed it wherever I've lived since then. It's symbolic for me on a lot of levels. It's a memory of that first moment of independence and moving to a new city. It's also a memory of my Dad, who has since passed away, and never did get to write that book.
– Carrie Villar