January 27th, 2025

Today, January 27, my parents closed on their house. They moved into that house in December of 1978, and settled in just before I was born in June of 1979. I lived there for 22 years and for 45 years that house has been my parents' home. Yesterday, I visited one last time to absorb the memories and say goodbye. Forgive my indulgence in the sappy and come along for a final tour of the house. 

This is the front of the house. Our Christmas tree always went in that front window. Once, before I ever entered kindergarten, I fell down those two stairs and scratched up my nose really bad. My friends gave me a get well card. There used to be two pine trees on either side of the walkway. Most recently it was a beautiful garden full of the most beautiful flowers and plants. 

This is just off the front porch. There's a hose nozzle there and we used to make mud pies and "soup" with berries and pieces of the plants from the garden. I was never in danger of poisoning myself by consuming my creations because I'm incredibly picky so I never even considered eating the mixture but my imagination could and did run wild here. 

Our drive way was severely cracked and we lived on a main road so learning to back out of this driveway was a significant challenge. More than once I had to back a friend's car out for them because it wasn't for the faint of heart. There was a family of ducks that used to lay eggs and live in the ditch when it had water in it. Year after year we watched them learn to swim and would put out food for the little ducklings. 

One of things my parents were very strict about was refusing to believe in such a thing as boredom. They were interesting people with interesting hobbies and I was expected to be the same. There was always something to do. Summer days I would go out and play basketball in the driveway and despite significant lapses in skill I had fun shooting and dribbling in the driveway. 

Speaking of hobbies, my dad had a dark room and portrait studio in this basement. He would process the film, develop the photos, and display them. He did experimental work in pinhole photography and won several awards for his photography including first place at the Michigan State Fair and Best in Show at the Scarab Club in Detroit. I spent hours with him in the basement watching the magic of the image appearing onto the photo paper. 

The front door. There are too many memories attached to this door to even begin to keep track of them, but I will say this. Those four switches controlled the stairway lights, the entrance light, the porch light, and the light further into the entrance way. I never, in 45 years, figured out which switch did which. I always just flipped switches on and off until I found the right one. 

Here's the laundry room where I learned to do laundry and how to fold clothes. This is where we washed the dog and hung clothes to dry. My mother is very particular about her laundry and I have followed in her foot steps gladly. When we were first married and I was working at Eddie Bauer I would drive Jason to work and come over to my parent's house and do laundry so we didn't have to pay for the machines in our apartment's basement. 

Sure, to you it looks like just a stairway, but I remember sliding down on my butt and racing friends to see who could slide the fastest. Then I started jumping down the stairs. I could jump off the fourth from the bottom and land it but my parents did not appreciate my gymnastic skills. At the foot of this stairway hung a picture of me that my Aunt Inez sent to us. It was a 24x36 picture of me and it seemed totally normal that it would hang there. Family would visit and give it a funny look but I never saw the problem. Until I grew up and appreciated that I was one of six kids and my parents did not have any giant poster size portraits of their other kids, but hey, what can I say? It took six tries to reach perfection.  One of those siblings, my sister Gwendolyn taught me to "walk" a helium balloon up the stairs by starting it at the bottom and letting it bounce up the sloped ceiling. I thought then (and still do think) she was a genius for her creativity and fun. 

The bedrooms - Most recently this was the computer room where my dad would play solitaire or work on his bills while my mom read or watched TV. It was also my grandma's bedroom when she lived with us and before that it was my music room and my sister's room. I believe this is the room where I accepted Jesus as my Savior. It is amazing how much one room can hold. 

When I was little, this was my room. It had red carpet and at one point it had bunk beds. My curtains, bedding, and decor were all hearts. Not pastel - gross, no - rainbow colored hearts. Everything was from JCPenney. There was this tent thing I got for Christmas or my birthday one year that attached to my bed. It was my absolute favorite and I would live in there for weeks as the ultimate introvert palace. 

The upstairs bathroom was large so when family visited we could get ready together. I remember talking my sister-in-law Jill's ear off in here and watching her get ready. I felt so grown up talking with my siblings and their spouses. When no one was visiting I would sit on the countertop with my feet in the sink and talk to myself and sing my musicals and try to figure out what it was to be a woman. 

When I was in junior high my grandmother moved in with us so she took the room with the red carpet and I moved to this room on the corner. My dad painted the walls pink and my mom made me the most beautiful quilt to match the walls. This is where I would do my homework and talk to Hannah for HOURS! This is where we laughed and cried our way through high school going over each assignment and recapping anything that had happened that day in GREAT detail. 

This was my parents' room. They lived simply with a full then eventually a queen sized bed and my dad's desk stood in the corner. There used to be a TV in the corner of his dresser and sometimes I would sneak in and watch Batman the Animated Series and Where in the World is Carmen San Diego on it.  

In this kitchen I learned to read a recipe and how to serve dinner. My mom was a stickler for serving in proper serving dishes NEVER in the pot it was cooked in. (I haven't followed her in this art.) Fun story - When I was small I was very VERY quiet. I would never talk in class and was scared of being called out. Well, my mom took me to Safety Town which was the greatest place in the world. It was part driving and walking and part classroom instruction. One day while the parents were there a fireman was talking about kitchen safety. He said it was bad to climb up onto the countertop and get stuff down ourselves. To my mom's surprise I raised my hand and asked," What if your mom tells you that you can climb up?" The instructor responded that it wasn't safe and that he was sure my mom would agree. To my mom's horror, I wasn't done. I asked a follow up question. "What if she tells you she has a headache and if you want something so bad you can get it yourself?" I don't recall how the awkward exchange ended by I don't remember my mom's encouragement of my search for information. She said that at our house I could climb all I wanted but we didn't have to discuss it at Safety Town anymore. Deal!

The kitchen dining area and giant window. Out this window we watched my dad's garden and the numerous wildlife that entered our yard. We've had deer, possums, racoons, squirrels, skunks, chipmunks, and thousands of birds. At the kitchen table there we talked about anything and everything. On Wednesday's my dad would bring home Little Caesars's Pizza Pizza - two pizzas wrapped in a big long paper bag. Many nights after dinner my mom and dad would play cribbage while I watched TV or played in the family room. 

This is where the TV sat. We loved to watch TV and movies as much as we loved reading and every week night at 7:30 in this room you could hear,  "This is JEAPORDY!" My mom babysat and kept a tight schedule for activities so it worked out that the Canadian Sesame Street was more convenient to watch so we would sit in front of the TV right here and watch Mr. Dress Up then Sesame Street. My sister Gwendolyn and I watched The Man From Snowy River and Sleeping Beauty here more times than I can count and I watched Annie on repeat. 

The family room was where the family portraits hung above the mantle. Down the wall hung my dad's photography, and the couch was where I spent many a day reading and relaxing. If I was ever sick on a Sunday, I would lay on the couch and watch Little Rascals and then my dad would watch CBS Sunday Morning with Charles Kuralt. 

The front living room was not a place for playing. If guests came over this was where they sat kind of like the parlor of yesteryear. The walls were white and these mustard yellow curtains hung on the windows. My mom loved those curtains and I believe negotiated to keep them when the house was purchased. When I was in high school and was taking piano lessons my parents surprised me with a piano so I could practice at home. I loved playing that piano. 

Thank you for coming along on this tour. I've moved out of several houses but this one has been the hardest to say goodbye to. What did it feel like when you left your childhood home? Do you have any memories of this house? Let me know!