Outer suburbs in Northern Virginia much closer now

There is a picture that keeps coming to mind lately, although I'm not sure why.

It's a person I haven't seen for more than 35 years in a place I haven't been for more than 40 years.

Modern-day Reston, Va.

Reston, Va., didn't look anything like this in February 1975. What is now a town of more than 58,000 was in its early stages as America's first planned community.

My fiancee and I had just moved into a nice new apartment on the north side of Herndon in a community called Stuart Woods.


It was fairly far out from Washington in those days, but both of us worked in Virginia and it was relatively convenient to her job in Langley.

Stuart Woods 40 years on.

We had only one car when we moved in -- a 1972 Pinto -- but we added a '73 Camaro that summer.

But the picture that is stuck in my mind is from the winter, from a Saturday afternoon when we drove over to see what was happening in Reston. It was pretty obvious that it was going to be special.

Our apartment wasn't large. One bedroom, one bath, but we did have a washer/dryer in the kitchen. Other than three semesters in a college dorm in 1967-68, it was the first place I ever lived other than with my parents. The rent now seems almost like a joke -- $230 a month including all utilities except phone.

When we first moved in, the only television we had was an old black & white standalone in our living room. Our friend Chris Gullotta had fixed it up, and I think we gave him $20 for his trouble. Except for a few semesters in dorm rooms, it was the first time I had lived anywhere but in my parents' home.

In 1975, Herndon was far different than it is now. When I spent two weeks in Northern Virginia in November 2010, the area seemed completely urbanized. There were major highways that hadn't even existed back in the day. As for the apartments themselves, the ones that had rented for $230 in 1975 list now for $1,415.

We rarely went to Reston. When we went to the movies, it was either to a two-screen cinema in a strip mall down the road or we drove to Tyson's Corners. I don't remember where we went to dinner in the 15 months we lived there.

We were happy there, but in the end it was obvious we had married too young. She was 21, and I was 25 going on 19. Officially we were married for seven years, but the time we were actually together was less than four years.

The last time we talked face to face was April 1982 shortly before she began the second of what would be three marriages. I was single a lot longer, with my second marriage not coming until November 1992.

Thankfully, that one has lasted.

But when I think about that winter Saturday in 1975 in Reston, I find myself thinking more about the place than the company.

I have lived so many places. Ten different states, in fact, and if I live till November 2020, I will have lived in four different states for at least 10 years each.

Some I barely remember.

Some I'll never forget.