I spent my childhood years pretty much in one house. From the time I was 8 until I left when I was around 19, my address remained the same. I lived earlier years in a ranch home in College Station, Texas with few memories, mostly related to severe weather and large insects. My family also lived briefly in a duplex when we relocated to Washington State. I remember little from that time, other than grabbing an electric fence in the back yard at my brother’s encouragement, and hiding from the school bus that would carry me off to first grade. Oh yeah, and I remember burning a hole in the carpet with an electric woodburner that I was using to create a work of art. When the landlord inspected the duplex upon our departure, I remember quite a scene! I couldn’t wait to move from the duplex with the bunk beds my brother and I sold off in favor my own room in the new-old house. The memory of being told that we had bought the “big old house downtown” and that I would have my very own bedroom is vivid.
I have many fond memories of “my” house. The house was built around 1904. It is a two story classic, with a basement and an attic. A wide, covered porch spreads the full width of the front of the house, with curving, wide steps leading up to it. The front door is red and welcoming, the same color as the entire roof. The clapboard siding is white as snow, making the home visually “melt” into the snow covered landscape in winter. The street is lined with 100 year old maple trees that turn incredible shades of gold and red in the Fall and leave huge piles of leaves to rake, a prospect at an early age to earn some much wanted cash.
My Mom, being on her own now, has decided its too much to take care of, so it’s on the market! In the coming weeks, I’ll share some stories of the old homestead.