My mother told me (six weeks before she died) that she had been her happiest in her life living there, so I had to go back and see it.
What a shock when I got there though. The current owners have let it go into disrepair and have mowed down all my mothers' azaleas, dogwoods, trees and flowers. About four or five crappy cars are in the drive, and the place looks like a wreck.
The back yard was impassable -- the weeds had turned into mini-trees of five feet high. We'd had so many fun times in the back on the swingset or just running around shouting at each other. And now you can't even go back there.
There was a beautiful gallery with a fan window, and then I saw that someone had stuck an ugly old air-conditioning unit into one of the glass panes. Sacrilege!
A neighbor saw us parked outside the cul-de-sac and walked over to see who we were. When I explained I was just getting a picture of my childhood home to send to my brothers so they could see the horrible neglect for themselves, he shook his head sadly and agreed that the current owners had let the place go.
"Times sure do change," he said. Then I thought -- they certainly do. Here it was a Monday afternoon, and this man wasn't working, and I smelled alcohol on his breath.
I thought that I too would have probably had to have a nip if I didn't have a job and afternoons can be so long and slow to pass with nothing to do.
When I was a kid and Natchez had some manufacturing plants nearby, he would have had a job. But now there's not as much left there in the way of employment -- so yes, times have changed.
15 comments:
I'm pleased you remember happy times in your childhood home. Mine is quite the reverse. Today the house rings with childish laughter from twins. Then it was a stern and unforgiving place.
But both are just buildings. Mine is here. Our memories, good or bad, are in our heads. Those we must make of as we will.
Don't let today's image of a run down but once much loved home spoil either your trip or your memories.
IT'S ALWAYS HARD SEEING A HOUSE AFTER SUCH A LONG TIME. EVERYONE LEAVES THEIR TRACE ON A BUILDING, IT CONTINUALLY GOES THROUGH PHASES AS PEOPLE COME AND GO, LIKE PASSENGERS ON A TRAIN. WHAT WILL NEVER CHANGE, THOUGH IS YOUR HAPPY MEMORIES OF IT.
What nice comments you have made, and how helpful they are! thanks guys.
Elizabeth... My experience is quite similar to yours. My parents built their home of 35 years off the lane to a horse farm with a large white house at the end. My parents took great pride in upgrading and maintaining it through the years. My mother worked with decorators to furnish, drape, paper and paint the rooms very tastefully with lots of antiques. After my father passed she moved to a condominium and now at 91 years of age resides in a Christian rest home. The old place came up for sale and a friend advised me that pictures of it were posted on the real estate web site. Of course I had to look and couldn't believe what I saw. The pink walls and purple carpet, the tasteless furnishing were abhorrent, but most of all the beautiful kitchen with gourmet stove, 2 ovens and wooden cabinets that my father had so lovingly finished and stained were unrecognizable. I didn't have the heart to show my mother.
On a happier note, on a recent trip with my daughter to the area where my grandmother lived we passed her house and there was a For Sale/Open House sign in the yard. I just had to go in and see it. Not only was the home very much the same and well kept, but several of the improvements were things my grandmother always said she wanted to do!
Elizabeth,
What you've experienced is one of the most painful things, in my opinion, that can happen. So many wonderful memories tied up in a place.
The house I grew up in is in beautiful condition, which gladdens my heart every time I see it.
But my great aunt's house down the street and on the bluff overlooking the river is in sad, sad condition. It was built in 1900 by my great grandfather.
A relative with a drug habit was in possession. When I moved home, I spent $3,000 and a month and a half with a yardman to get the backyard passable again. It had gone to jungle -- the yard that my great aunt had tended so lovingly for so many years.
Vines had grown into the elevator shaft downstairs,(we had one installed when she got old), up the shaft to her bedroom on the second floor and out between the closed door and the doorframe and over to the window.
There are leaks in the roof and the ceiling plaster falls onto the floor when it rains. Water was pouring into my mother's Chickering baby grand piano.
It would take at LEAST $200,000 -- maybe more -- to restore. Money I don't have. We're working on fixing the roof this week. After that, I'm going to try to get my nephew to move in during his summer vacation and help me do work inside, ourselves. It'll be his someday and I know he loves it as much as I do.
Hugs from me, girlfriend. Your trip was a mixture of good and bad, that's for sure.
But girl! Look at it this way---the worse those trashy folk treat your former home, the cheaper you can buy it when you move back! And won't we have fun restoring it to its former charm, the way Meemers had it.
A pox on those awful Crackers who have disrespected your beautiful childhood home...
Brenda, 'Aphrodite' has let her son live there while she travels around, the neighbor said & it is he who has let it go. I asked what his profession was & the guy said he was a locksmith. Not many locksmiths can afford a fab house like that.
I reckon amputation of a leg without anaesthetic would be a lot more painful? ;)
Houses are overrated, just place-holders; as others have said, what's more important are the memories and what you can actually influence, i.e. the present and the future.
At least the boozy neighbour came over and asked who you were, I can't see that happening in my street; I'm sure someone could put a ladder up to my house and smash some windows before anyone would take any notice.
I remember Aphrodite! What a rare piece of whoredom that ol' broad was! So the Goddess of Love has a slummy son...somehow, not surprising...
Oh yes, watch out for those "crackers" who drive Mercedes--they're the worst kind!
Steve, I've come to agree about houses. I'd rather own a house than have a house own ME, if you know what I mean. Our first one was a large family home (husband's grandfather built it) and it was s in need of constant repair, renovation, and maintenance that we never felt we could go out to dinner---we were always saving up for the next big project. Then we built our "dream house" on some land, so I could have horses, and that was another big expensive "histage to fortune." Always money pouring our for this and that.
Now we live in a plain ol' HOUSE. Nothing sentimental, nothing over-the-top, but roomy enough, and if it burned down tomorrow I'd not wail---just collect the insurance and go find another roof.
Or, just rent. That way, when the roof leaks, you just call the landlord!
Oops, should have been "hostage to Fortune," but maybe "histage" was a Freudian slip---Gawd knows we'd HISS every time we had to fork out big $$ for some repair!
Steve! You should see Brenda's 'plain old house' as she calls it. it's like a mansion to us - it's huge and beautiful inside -- outside she has a ho' (hot) tub, deck, fountain, and fish pond -- she's so used to living in the South where property is cheaper than in big cities that she thinks she lives in a plain old house. I would kill for such a place.
E, I do get the impression that Brenda would live in such a house, I bet it's delightful.
The houses around here are tiny in comparison since our population density makes land so scarce ($$$). I think I'd prefer a great view over a great house, not much chance of that were we live though is there E! :)
Steve, your comment made me laugh. Yes, I have a great view from my house in urban Reading -- you walk about a couple of yards/meters away and there's a nice retirement home -- then behind that is the British Telecom building with its high masts and hideous architecture. I don't even have a whole house to myself as it's a semi-detached.
last night I was watching the final moments of Wuthering Heights, the 30s version with Laurence Olivier, and when he opened the doors of Cathy's bedroom to see a magnificent view of the moors with heather in bloom, I said to Mel, 'look! it's the same as the view from our room.' (I was being ironic.)
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