This past week has been a jumble of emotions. If you’ve ever read, Feisty, a tribute to my parents, you may know that my parents were 40 years old when I was born. All my grandparents were dead by the time I came into the world.
As a little girl, when people would ask if my parents were my grandparents this caused anxiety in my heart. I knew that my grandparents were in heaven. If people thought my parents were old enough to be my grandparents, would my parents die at any minute?
It was a huge concern to me as a child. It didn’t paralyze me from enjoying life, but it’s always been floating around in my brain. So, basically I’ve been trying to cope with my parents’ mortality all of my life. Probably the entirety of humanity deals with the inevitability of our parents leaving this earth.
And so the finality of it all has come to pass. Mom went home to Glory 5 years ago this week. My father can no longer live independently due to a massive stroke.
Few people have the opportunity to spend their entire childhood in one home, one community. (Mr. Muscle and I dragged our poor children across the USA.) Even though I realize how blessed I am, it hurts. This past weekend, my childhood home was disbanded.
Few people have the opportunity to spend their entire childhood in one home, one community. (Mr. Muscle and I dragged our poor children across the USA.) Even though I realize how blessed I am, it hurts. This past weekend, my childhood home was disbanded.
It was a modest home. My parents built it in 1969, paying cash. That tells you a little bit about their depression-era thriftiness.
The woodwork in the kitchen was finished by the light of a Coleman lantern after dad got off work. The smell of the lacquer was heady and I liked it. The happy memories and smells that kitchen held: turkeys roasted, hams glazed, Christmas cookies cut, green beans canned, birthday cakes iced, and wonderful homemade spaetzle noodles!!!
The woodwork in the kitchen was finished by the light of a Coleman lantern after dad got off work. The smell of the lacquer was heady and I liked it. The happy memories and smells that kitchen held: turkeys roasted, hams glazed, Christmas cookies cut, green beans canned, birthday cakes iced, and wonderful homemade spaetzle noodles!!!
I would sit on the floor in front of the refrigerator while the female kinfolk would clean up after a big family meal. In the winter this was spot was delicious. Because, the fridge put out warm air at the bottom. We’d talk and laugh.
There was always lots of laughter.
The kitchen table was scratched and scuffed from countless games of Euchre, Poker, Spoons, Pictionary, Trivial Pursuit, Scrabble, Cribbage, Scattegories. Spoons often drew a little blood, too.
My bedroom evolved from light pink with Cinderella wallpaper, Purple and Green 1970’s patchwork quilt motif, and in college to green palm frond décor. The door would barely shut over the phone cord. To have some much needed teen ‘privacy,’ I would drag the phone into my bedroom from another room. As much as I begged, there would be no phone in my bedroom. (Our firstborn would be conceived in this bedroom.)
The bathroom where I experimented with make-up, hairstyles and hot rolled waist length hair had an incredible seashell countertop! Seashells were encased in a clear resin, an unexpected touch in an Indiana farmtown. No wonder I love the sea. The tub and double sinks were blue. In adulthood, my sisters and I had many a wonderful conversation over those double sinks as we would get ready for special occasions. I loved that bathroom with it’s unique corner bathtub. However, I never could embrace the silver metallic wallpaper mom installed after I left for college.
Even after we all started our own families, this little house was the central meeting point for siblings who lived across the country. Cousins would watch tv jumbled together on the floor. The rusted swingset out back entertained the next generation.
These sweet memories are what I have left as I say goodbye to the physical presence of my childhood. I write this to encourage you, sweet reader. Do whatever possible to create a warm and happy home for your precious children, even if your home takes residence at different addresses through the years.
That’s the whole reason for this blog. It’s for the children. It’s for our grandchildren, for the great grandchildren. Even if you don’t have children, you will have influence over children, if you desire. It’s for the legacy we will leave.
In a way, I write this blog to pass along my mother’s joyful heart. She taught me that you do whatever it takes to walk through adversity having faith. On the other side, there would be good. The good may take surprising forms. She taught this in all aspects of life. But, I’ve found this lifeskill most applicable in my marriage.
A good marriage doesn’t just affect you and your spouse. It affects your children. It mentors your co-workers, friends and extended family. Happiness that is gleaned through a thriving homelife filters into your corner of the world, every inch of it. I want to affect people through my contentment rather than bitterness, don’t you?
So, low libido ladies, figure out what it will take to redeem a broken marriage or to make a good marriage better. If you don’t know where to start, PRAY.
Be the sunshine for your corner of the world.
In My Life, the Beatles
What beautiful memories, Pearl! I’m so sorry that your father and family had to give up your childhood home. I also had the privilege of living all of my childhood in one small town (and the same house until I was in college), so I can imagine the emotions you felt at letting it go. Thanks for encouraging us to create the same kinds of memories for our children.
Gaye, thank you so very much for your sweet comment. Privilege is the exact word! Blessings, dear friend.
Who would have thought when they designed the computer keyboard that the proximity of the right-hand shift key the enter key would become such a source of aggravation and potential distress. I shall begin again:
From one old sentimental fool to another, thank you for that post. As a child I moved every four years. Thankfully, my maternal grandparents stayed put for decades. The bedroom with all the same family pictures on the wall. New ones went up, but the old never came down. The fascinating and mysterious laundry chute into the basement. The old upright piano, not a spinet. The eggs fried in an ocean of grease and boxes of sweetened ceral forbidden at home. Fresh fried crappie and peanut butter fudge made without marshmallow creme and home churned ice cream; oh my aching arm. The smell of Roi Tan cigars smoked on the front porch swing. Broad-backed green steel lawn chairs flecked with mildew on the back. Getting up at 5am to go fishing and getting car sick going there. A grandmother whose every grandchild’s name seemed to end with -ie or -y.
It all lies at the end of a one way street. We can’t turn around and go back as much as we would like, if only for a day. If someone said going back for a day will cost you one in the future, I don’t know that I wouldn’t take them up on the deal.
You linked to my 2nd favorite song of all time. It would be my first if it didn’t nudge me into a sentimental mood everytime I hear it. I spoke to me when I first heard it in my teens. I was born an old soul. I once had it as a ringtone on my cell. I really resented the intrusion of the cell on my privacey and began to hate to hear it ring. I realized by transference I was beginning to not like hearing In My Life begin. I quickly changed to a different ring. “Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain.” So sadly true.
My all time favorite is Sinatra singing (anything) “Young At Heart”. For an old soul, I have always resented having to grow up. I can remember lying in the floor of the car as my mother drove me to daycare and hearing it on the radio. I like Durante”s styling of the same, not so much the voice. Sorry Mrs. Calabash.
Our youngest son lived here since the age of two. He is now in his mid-twenties. Our youngest daughter is in her early twenties. She lived in this house until she left too soon at 18. We talk of moving on to something without so many stairs, no way in or out without them, and a less difficult lawn to mow. I don’t know how serious we would be if we had the chance though. Maybe if one of the kids bought it an lived here. I remember finding a door in the basement when we moved in. The previous owner had marked his children’s growth on it and it had some team stickers on it. He came by the house once and, being sentimental as I am, I had never thrown it out. I asked if he wanted it but he didn’t. I think it was more difficult for me to finally throw it out than for him to reject it. Oh, well.
I am sorry for the loses to you and your family.
Dear Sentimental, I believe we have families cut of the same cloth. 5 am fishing forays, motion sickness, fried crappie…..did you dig your own worms?
Peanut Butter fudge! I finally perfected it (milk, sugar, peanut butter, NO marshmallow creme) and gained 5 pounds.
It does all end on a one-way street. When will the time machine be invented???
But, still taking life as it rolls, just wanted to muse a little.
THANKS for you support.
What a beautiful story! Thank you for sharing your memories.
Thank you, J. Actually, I need to thank all my readers for allowing me to reminisce…..