Today I was running errands. I was pretty close to the house I grew up in, so I decided to drive by. This house is only about 8 miles or so from where I live now.

Our home was not in a neighborhood one would have ever called "upscale" and it's gone downhill drastically. The house is probably about 130 years old now. It is now a faded blue; it was red when we moved out. The porch was re-done, but the house was in sad shape, yet there were satellite TV dishes on it.

I was honestly hoping someone would be in front of the house, just so I could talk to them for a minute. I wondered who lived there now. I pulled in front of the house and just looked at the front, up toward the full size window in the attic, and a whole lot of memories came to mind. I remember the circular staircase where we used to pose for pictures on important occasions, and the wood banister my sister used to slide down on from the second floor. I saw how close the house was to the house next door.....barely two-three feet separated them. You can't build houses that close together anymore......(not that you'd want to).

I headed north from the house, passing a pharmacy where we used to have our prescriptions filled, it's closed, and the building is run down. I passed the homes where I used to babysit to earn money, and the street where the school I attended was. The school was torn down as was the church. I even passed the home that used to house a funeral home. I remember attending the first wake I ever went to in that place. I was about nine. The wake was for a classmate's dad who died very young from a heart attack. I remember attending other wakes there. Many of my Dad's brothers and sisters died before they were 60. The place is no longer a funeral home and the house doesn't look very well kept.

One of the final stops on the way home was the light fixture store across from the cemetery where my Dad was laid to rest. As small planes flew over and the WWII bombers were expected, I had to think of him, and I missed him. I don't know if he flew in those types of planes during the war, I don't think my Mom would know, and there is no one left to ask.

Strolls down memory lane can make you

 

Sometimes you just cannot go back home. We lived in a cold water flat behind my Grandfather's store. The store is now an appartment but the house we lived in looks about the same with new siding. No kids on the streets now, it was our playground back in the day. The school we attended is closed and vacant, what a waste of a huge building, the church is in total disrepair. Main street which use to be a bustling business area has mostly closed and given way to the malls.
It makes me sad to see it all that way.

 

My Dad still lives in ours. He has kept it up perfectly, which I can't say about a lot of the other houses in the old hood. The few old folks that are still there have been inundated by first-time buyers, who seemingly don't plan to stay long.

 

My mom still lives in the house I grew up in. In July when I went home for my class reunion, about a 7-8 hr. drive, I spent 2 weeks there . Many a day I would just walk the town and think of the times from so long ago. A big bonus walking the streets in a small town during the summer I ran into many people I hadn't seen in many years. Whenever I met someone I recognized, or they recognized me, we would talk about all sorts of differant things. It was probably one of the more pleasurable trips I've made in years, surely one I'm glad I made and will never forget.
Levi

 

Well, my old neighborhood has gone down further than when I was there. I lived upstairs from a bar/tap room. The apartment was heated by an oil stove. Across the street, over the years, was a hardware store that became a package store that became a bar in front of which I saw a guy get shot. At the corner of the street was another bar, three buildings down. The package store eventually moved up the hill, next to a car wash and gas station. Up the street there was a former grocery store which had a boarding house upstairs, that may have also doubled as a bordello. Within less than a quarter mile were at least three other bars and a couple closed mills, and several mill row houses. The owner of the hardware store, an old Polish man, was known to try to proposition high school girls as they went past. He was eventually rolled by the boyfriend of one young woman who accepted his offer. A half mile or so west was a small project in which lived two guys, just slightly older than I who used me as a target for their fists. I was actually the first person my wife knew who lived in an apartment, let alone in the kind of hood I came from. For some reason, she continued to date me and married me. Maybe it was to save me from that place.
Thing is, I was so immune to it, I didn't know how bad it really was.
So, for me to go back to the old hood the feeling is more of one of relief and thanksgiving that I got out of there relatively unscathed.
Here's a link to a google map of the hood.

 

^
Wow, rough neighborhood.

Ours wasn't the greatest when we were there, but not quite that bad. My ex got jumped once when we were walking to a corner store with my niece. He got his head slammed against a brick wall, probably over a few dollars...

During the late 60's, early 70's like many communities, there were race riots in the city. It was a difficult time for many. We were only blocks away from all that. We saw the flames of fires and heard gunshots too. In high school, I had some friends whose parents "preferred" we hang out at their house instead of ours. The city still has some real bad neighborhoods these days, and areas where gang members roam and cause lots of trouble.

 

I go drive by my old house now and then, and am pleasantly surprised to see that
it looks as good--if not better--than when I was there. The homes were built in the
50's--generic cookie cutter houses of suburbia, and still look decent--most with
manicured lawns and nice landscaping. The old cars on cement blocks are gone.
My house was yellow stucco and had an ugly red front door, that
thankfully the current owners have repainted. I wonder what the people living on
that street now are like. Are there any neighbors left that I know? Do kids ride
their bikes on the street and play hide & seek until it's dark out, like we did 30
years ago? Things do seem to have changed. Some good, some bad. Next time
I visit, I'm gonna get the nerve up to knock on the door and talk to the people
living there.

 

My sisters and I did something similar when we were all together for my parents' 50th anniversary.

Family members took turns renting a summer cottage on a local pond. We'd all visit each other often during the others' rental period. LOTS of good times there, learned to water ski, the whole bit.

So, one Sunday AM we headed there and knocked on the door. We told the owner how we spent a lot of time there as kids, over 30 years before. Unfortunately, the owner was selling and was packing up, and we were not invited in. It was a great place and I'm glad to say it still looked good when we stopped by.

 

[QUOTE]Strolls down memory lane can make you

 

The first two houses I lived in are over a thousand miles away. I have been back, although it's been years. The first house is gone, and is now just a spot on the pavement between two buildings. It used to be a house with a car lot in front, that my Dad owned and operated. Then we had a brand new house on the edge of town. It seemed really big, even when we moved to California in 1958. The last time I saw it, it was no longer on the edge of town, and it looked really small. It's brick, so it will still be there when I am dead and gone. From 1958 until I moved out 10 years later, we had four more homes. Dad went from used cars to real estate, so we moved a lot. All 4 of those houses are now in areas I stay out of, but back then they were in an "All American City".