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Radiant Valley
When I was a child of seven or eight, I heard the adults talking about a new subdivision being built on a neighboring hill. This was in suburban Kentland, Maryland, near Landover Hills. We lived at the apex of a steep hill — on a clear day we could see the silhouette of the Washington Monument. It was only ten miles away as the crow flies, and we could watch the Monument’s July 4th firework display from our front yards. The Landover Hills area had plenty of hills and valleys, although I don’t know if any of the other hills were as steep as ours. The small two-story white asbestos-shingled houses were still so new they were like identical soldiers marching up the hill. No one had yet added a side porch or done much landscaping, although some, like ours, had gray metal fences.
One day I heard adults in the front yard talking about the new housing development that was going up in Landover Hills. It was called Radiant Valley. I was intrigued because I knew that “radiant” meant glowing, shining, glorious — like the City of Oz! (I had an excellent vocabulary, probably because I was already such a nerd that I read encyclopedias and dictionaries for fun.)
“Where IS the radiant valley!?” I asked excitedly.
“Oh, over there somewhere,” Dad answered. “In that direction.”
I stood on tiptoes and strained to see over the tops of the trees that marched…
