“The Spanish Revival is an architectural style that became common in the American West and Southwest in the early 20th century. Spanish Revival architecture tends to feature low-pitched, red-tile roofs, stucco walls, rounded arches, and an asymmetrical façade” (Study.com).
I found a good street view of my favorite house in Preston Hollow: a Spanish Revival on the corner of Glendora and Tulane. I was surprised and pleased that the house was still there. As a teenager I made a point of passing by it when I went for nighttime bicycle rides.
Glendora and Tulane is four blocks south of my high school, St. Mark’s. The school and the house are in the “golden corridor” of North Dallas, the most desirable place to live if one is a successful businessperson or star athlete or regular person with enough money. In the 1960s, the neighborhood was egalitarian—open to anyone except minorities.
The Spanish Revival was a minority; there were no other houses like it. The house was a misfit like me. I had friends and activities at school but felt like an outsider. I rode my bicycle at night and was happy to be alone, or so I thought.
I picture the house on a moonlit night as I return from one of my bike rides. The Spanish Revival lies sleeping and silent. It is my friend, different from the other houses, simpler, dark, almost spooky in its disregard for adornment. Its walls are plain stucco with no shutters around the windows. I rarely, if ever, see a light inside.
I imagine an old woman living there, widowed, puttering around with no intention of leaving. She has lived there since the house was new, the only one on the acreage. Maybe the property was a ranch at one time, a hacienda. The Spanish Revival would fit in New Mexico. Seeing it under the moonlight takes me to the still, high desert where being alone is OK.
The Spanish Revival’s plain exterior belies an interior rich with carved wood, Mexican rugs, and Native American wall hangings. A long hall leads to the widow’s bedroom—bed, dresser, writing table and chair, reading lamp, and crucifix on the wall.
When I think of the Spanish Revival, I feel at peace. Not everything is destroyed; not even me when I die.