It was also the site of my Nana’s illegal abortion in 1959. She had taken the day off from work. A costly doctor waited for her in a hotel room, and 30 minutes later, she walked out.

She kept, and still keeps, a little green box of recipe cards full of recipes, mostly passed down from her mother, my Nana, within arm’s reach of the stovetop.

It was also the site of my Nana’s illegal abortion in 1959. She had taken the day off from work. A costly doctor waited for her in a hotel room, and 30 minutes later, she walked out.

Every summer, from when I was 5 until 15, my Nana — that's what we called my grandmother on my dad's side — took me camping in her 1959 trailer, a 15-foot teal Holly Mascot. I would go with my ...