The Old Country

I went to the San Fernando Valley today to help out my hubby's uncle. He needed a ride to the DMV to get an extension on his "temporary" license. He's lived in the Valley somewhere between 40 and 50 years.
"You're the only family member I have who still lives here," I told him as we drove past all the familiar street signs.
"Who were they?" "Where'd they go?" he asked.
They were my mother's immediate family, my father's aunts, uncles, nephews and cousins, my first cousins, and later on, my sister and her husband.
The things I remember the most are lots of family get togethers, finally going through one complete school without picking up and moving, starting to date, learning to drive, eating my grandmother's cooking, hanging with my aunt and my cousins, being taken to dinner with my aunt and uncle and eating escargot and frog legs for the first time, babysitting for my little cousins until their dad, my first cousin, moved to Ohio.
That's what started it...he moved away first. Then years later, my aunt and uncle moved to Beverly Hills. And people started scattering to different cities. My sister got her own place on the west side of Los Angeles (came back to the Valley, but left again). I moved to Beverly Glen Canyon, and my mom moved to the "Fairfax" part of LA. There were some hold outs for awhile, but the urge to move got to everyone.
I told my hubby's uncle, who had been a Hollywood makeup man for many years, that even I left the Valley twice. I was only 3 when I left the first time. I do have a vague recollection of talking to a man painting his fence who lived across the street from us. Turns out, it was John Wayne and he moved away not too long after that because the Valley was getting too crowded.
Even though the businesses are different, the storefronts more trendy, the traffic more intense, I will always feel nostalgic going into the Valley.