Thirty-five years ago this coming August we moved into the house in the picture above.
I don’t think I have any real memories of that day. I do have these flashes of me hanging out with mymom upstairs while lots of men came in with lots of our stuff, but those could be fabricated memories as an amalgam of life experiences. (For example — I remember when our piano was delivered several years later.) I was two at the time and still a bit cloudy as to what was going on around me.
The picture above was taken about four years after we moved in — either by my brother or me. That was my Mom’s car — the four-door ’72 Dodge Coronet which seated six (three in the front, three in the back). When my parents purchased the house it came with that wonderful wooden paneling which was the appropriate shade of ’70s green. The carpeting inside matched quite well — bright oranges, yellows, greens and pinks in the shag rugs. Patterned linoleum in the front hall and kitchen.
Throughout the years there were many cosmetic changes made to the house on the inside and out. It truly was home for me — as I had lived there from age 2 until I moved out for college. And then? I still had my room (which ultimately became shared space for my Dad’s office). Our engagement party was there. Av’s bris was held in the dining room. And that was after I had moved out. The point of it is — even though I was no longer living there, it was always home for me. I can’t remember the house where I lived in Pittsfield, MA for the first two years of my life; this was truly my first home. And it remained my home for the next three and-a-half decades.
When my mom died in 2006, I slowly came to the realization that the house would not last forever. It was a big house for just my Dad to live in — even if it had a lot of room for people to come and visit. When my Dad found his wonderful girlfriend, someone who also had her own empty house after her children were grown, it was quite apparent that they would want to start this chapter of their lives in a place together. A place which was new. Both houses had wonderful memories, but their new place would be about newer memories.
Her house sold more quickly than my Dad’s did. Putting a house on the market in the middle of 2008 was not an easy task. Keeping it on the market through the ensuing recession was even tougher. Especially as the value of this home (and all homes) plummeted rapidly. He had to bring the price down. And in that climate, nobody was biting. It was tough and depressing.
Several hours ago the house was officially sold. To a nice couple. With twin babies. They had been looking at it for months now.
It is no longer my home. I gave my Dad my keys on Saturday. I no longer have a working alarm code.
I do, however, retain memories.
That wall never changed, although the wood paneling in the room had come and gone. So had the giant 22″ TV that sat embedded in the wall until the early 80s. I think, throughout the 35 years I remember this house, that the fireplace was used maybe once or twice. If even at all. (Again, possibly manufactured memories).
There was a lone bedroom downstairs, the other four being two floors up. This was our playroom. And then our office (when both my brother and I went into the bar-mitzvah tutoring business in high school). Eventually it was a guest room. I remember painting the whole room when I was in high school. The picture in the corner? I made it in first grade. It’s lived there for quite a while…
My room. Used to have clunky green and brown windowshades and bright orange shag carpeting. I shared it with my brother until I was about six; he moved out into his own room next door. I did a lot of homework here, and I avoided even more homework here as well. During my map-geek pahse, I had an entire wall covered with a gigantic map of Montgomery County, MD. I would have open-door days when I was happy. And I would slam the hell out of that door when I was upset. I installed my own phone jack in that room, a project I really was proud of. I was ten.
Our backyard. We had a swingset when we moved in — which all but rusted away within ten years, so we got rid of it. We also had a picnic table for some time. And this amazing weed-like plant which would grow almost to the second story of the house every summer! We would cut it down every fall and use it as s’chach for our sukkah. There were parties. My brother and I would play frisbee and soccer out there. Our next door neighbor’s dog would ultimately run laps around our yard.
This house and I had a great run together. Thanks for the memories, 2015…
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I typed you a message, and it seemed so incredibly personal (without even really being so) that I suddenly felt like it would be such an intrusion to have all those anonymous eyes of people I don’t really know reading the words I had typed. Well, you know where to go read it.
Aww – what a sweet post!!!
(I hope you took that picture you made in 1st grade! I have a picture in a frame on my living room wall that my dad made in kindergarten. It’s awesome.)
Sybil Laws last blog post..Miscellaneous Bull[sh]it
Your home looks like it was a fantastic place to grow up! Congratulations to your dad on his new beginning.
Faiqas last blog post..Did I forget to mention…
Awwww, this post broke my heart. it’s has a happy ending, I know. But still. This post is a tear jerker if ever there was one.
Janelles last blog post..Finally! Does this make me the worlds worst parent?
I thought I was the most nostalgic person on the planet. Aww, now that I remember the time from before reading this post… gets me all misty-eyed.
whalls last blog post..Happy Easter!
I feel that way about my parents house, although they do still live there. My dad built it, spent three years slaving over it and it’s gorgeous. It’s held a lot of memories for us as well!
Sarcasticas last blog post..It’s never too soon
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