A few weeks ago, an old friend sent me a photo of one of the houses I grew up in that he made recently when he was in the neighborhood. I was dismayed to see our house painted a horrible beige all over, the yard bare of any trees or shrubs. Clearly the owners hadn't been able to care for it - it was for rent. Another victim of the housing crisis.
I got to thinking about all the places I lived when I was growing up. We moved around a fair amount, for various reasons.
This is the first house I remember, a beautiful old victorian in Augusta, on Herd Avenue.
That tiny figure on the porch is my brother, riding his tricycle.
It was a great house. We had huge old trees, perfect for climbing. When you walked in there was a lovely staircase up to the second floor, and I used to get in a big old basket and go flying down the stairs, much to my mother's horror and my delight. There was a back patio where we had birthday parties, and a huge sandpile. It was not air conditioned but otherwise it was a great house. I loved that house.
Dad called it the Money Pit.
It sold the same day mom and dad put it on the market.
The next house we lived in was smaller and more modern. Dad bought it without consulting Mother. Mother hated it. The living room carpet was white - total nightmare with two active kids. There were good points to it. It had woods behind it, and a creek, and Bruce and I spent a lot of time roaming the woods.
This is the only photo I could find of the house. This is my 6th birthday party. I was allowed to invite 6 little girls for a luncheon. That's me on the left, without shoes. I hated wearing shoes. I don't know why I look stoned.
The next house, in 1971, was what we call the Venice Road house, in Knoxville.
It was a great house. We had four bedrooms, so we could put guests in the guestroom. There was a big basement where we had the ginormous console TV everyone had in the 70's. The living room had huge windows, and we had custom drapes made that were heavy so we didn't lose too much air out of them. I have many good memories of that house. It was where we lived the longest.
I hate that this photo came out rather blurry. This was made in about 1973, judging by the dress I was wearing and the goofy glasses.In 1978 Mom and Dad built a house on Melton Hill lake and we sold this house and moved, after also selling our Douglas Lake cottage.
This is where we spent all our weekends in the summer, the cottage on Douglas Lake. It had no air conditioning, no phone, no dishwasher, but we didn't care. Dad actually relaxed instead of being his usual workaholic self. Bruce and I spent a lot of time in the lake.
I spent a fair amount of time on the screened porch, reading, which is relaxing to me.
We would go up there on Friday nights pulling the boat, with 3 dogs in the car, and groceries in the boat, or we'd stop and buy groceries on the way. Often we didn't eat dinner until 9 but it was OK. We could relax. Sometimes in the summer mom and Bruce and I would spend a week or two and Dad would commute back and forth to his office.
Dad was a great water skier, and I'll never forget the day someone was driving the boat and Dad skied in to the cove and whipped around and aimed for the bank, so his skis headed into the soft mud, Dad let go of the rope, and stepped out of his skis, beer in hand, cigarette dangling. He had bet someone he could ski without getting anything wet but his feet. He'd take off from the dock in a sitting position. Good times.
Dad loved that little cottage so much that years later when he was dying he asked me and Bruce to scatter his ashes there.
Sometimes you can get very attached to a place when you can relax and have fun there.
I certainly love where we live now. We've lived here 6 years, which is almost a record for me. The longest I ever lived anywhere in my life was 7 years.
It's 900 degrees outside and I am longingly thinking of snow.... LOL
