The Home That Built Me

As my dad gripped the doorknob to close the door for the last time on the home that I grew up in on Plaza Way, I started to cry and told him that it was so hard to say goodbye to the only childhood home I had ever known. My dad taught me a great lesson that day as he explained to me that it was just a house and the only thing that made the house special is the memories, and I still have those memories – no one can take those away from me. He is right, the house is gone but the memories are mine to keep…

I wasn’t born when my dad built our house back in 1954, but I am told that he had to hike up to the property because it was up on a hill that hadn’t been developed yet. He picked the lot, dug the hole and began a wonderful project that his family would benefit from for the next 53 years. He built the house with his own hands (and many great tools). It took him 6 months from start to finish. My dad was a perfectionist in his workmanship and you could see it in every detail from the brickwork to the inside finish work. The only part of the house he didn’t execute was the plumbing and electrical work which he traded with a friend.

When they moved in my mom took over with making it a home. She had my dad build a planter box just below the front bedroom window and hanging baskets for each side of the porch so she could plant beautiful red geraniums. She spent many hours gardening so we could have a beautiful yard. She also made the interior look like it was done by a professional designer by painting the walls, sewing the curtains and bedspreads, and decorating every room.

While growing up, one of my favorite places to play was in our backyard. We had two levels that I called the “upper level” and the “lower level”. The levels were separated by a 3 foot gradual change in elevation. The yard was enclosed by a fence that my dad built so it felt like my own private space. There was a swing set in the back corner that kept me out there for hours. We had some gooseberry bushes and a rhubarb plant in the back corner and I remember thinking that I could play in my backyard all day long without going inside to get something to eat because there was food conveniently growing out there. On the side-yard we had a cherry tree and I could never understand why the cherries didn’t taste very good, until my mom explained to me one day that they were “pie cherries” and they were perfect for making pies. That summer I picked every cherry on that tree and went up and down my street selling them to all of the neighbors so they could make pies and I could earn some money. We had a great big patio, and because my dad was a brick layer, he built a really nice outdoor fireplace that I am sure all the neighbors coveted cuz no one else had anything like it. I don’t remember using it much for fires, but it was sure fun to climb on.

We had a one-car garage that was full of my dad’s tools and because he was constantly working on projects, they were always strung all over the garage so our car was always in the driveway. Every now and then he would clean the garage and I would get my roller skates on and skate back and forth from our back patio in to the garage. I did this for hours. Our driveway had a slope to it and the street was too bumpy so this was a real treat for me.

In our front yard was the best gift I could have been given – it was considered an extension of my house - my big walnut tree. I claimed it as my own because I don’t think it was big enough to play in when my older brothers and sister were young. I spent hours and hours in that tree. There were days in the summer when I would take everything I thought I would need for the day (food, activities, pillow, etc.) and spend the entire day in that tree without coming down. It was a second house for me. I had bunk beds which were imagined from two large branches that ran parallel one right under the other, a kitchen where a bunch of branches grew together where I put my food, a deck which I would use to spy on the neighborhood, and some secret spots where I would hide my treasures. I loved that tree and I would run away from home to that tree, I would do my homework in that tree, I played with my dolls in that tree, I took my friends up there and gave them a tour of my tree and any time I felt lonely or sad, that tree would magically make me feel better. That tree was my friend, and some of my very fondest childhood memories are of the times I spent in that tree.

When I was young I occupied the front bedroom. It had a large window with a separate side windows on each side that opened up by turning a little crank. At a young age I learned how to open the windows and pop the screens out and when my mom would put me down for a nap, long after I thought I was too old to take a nap, I would sneak out my window and go play with friends. At about the time that I thought my nap should be over, I would climb back in the window (with the help of the large planter box just outside my window) and walk out of my room, of course rubbing my eyes (I should have gone in to acting). I don’t know how many times I did this but I do remember thinking that it was OK because that’s why the planter box was put there in the first place – for my convenience. I had a large room and I was constantly rearranging the furniture. I got very creative by making small “rooms” within my room by using some of the furniture as dividing walls. I vaguely remember purple walls and dark purple carpet with a flowers design or swirls in it. When I got a little older my mom redecorated my room with a carpet called “Candy Stripe” (which I thought was really cool and I told everybody about), and my dad made some built in shelves and drawers and my mom painted the front of each drawer and the inside of each shelf a different color to match the brightly striped carpet. I loved my room and I was very proud of it! When my younger sister, Karen, was born she shared that room with me, which I thought was a real treat, until I learned that I couldn’t play in there while she was napping. One of my favorite memories was laying in bed at Christmas time and looking out the window to see the Christmas lights hanging from the rain gutter across the front of the house. When I was in Jr. High, my older sister, Susan, got married and I moved in to her room which was right across from the living room. The window to my new bedroom was at the back of the house and I missed those Christmas lights so I put a small Christmas tree on the nightstand with Christmas lights to help me get the same affect. I was pretty excited about my new room because I felt I had outgrown my “childish” room and my older sister’s room was really cool. My mom put a lot of effort into decorating her room. She glued floral fabric to the walls like wall paper and made some cushions for her bed so it would look like a daybed. She painted the desk and two night stands pink with green drawers and lined the drawers with the same fabric that was on the walls. There was also a nice set of shelves on the wall and every other shelf was green and pink. I really liked that bedroom. When I was in high school, my brothers both got married and I moved in to their bedroom in the basement. I hardly ever slept down there, and when I did I would talk my little sister in to sleeping down there with me. It felt lonely down there even though there were plenty of spiders to keep me company.

We had something in our house that, I think, set us apart from the other houses and my friends thought it was cool and a little mysterious. It was a clothes shoot that started in the bathroom cupboard upstairs and ended up in the laundry room in the basement. This was not only used for getting our dirty clothes where they needed to be on laundry day, but for proving who was brave enough to ride down the small tunnel. It jetted straight down about 2 feet and then turned at an about an 80 degree angle and went down another 4 feet before you would end up in the laundry room. Years later when my mom decided that she didn’t want dirty clothes constantly on the floor my dad put a door on the bottom of the shoot that would keep the clothes in the clothes shoot until laundry day. In the laundry room we had a large freezer with a big door, when you opened the main door you would find more metal doors to open. My dad would go deer hunting and bring home meat that we would put in the freezer for winter. I also remember my parents buying “a half a cow” and this freezer was a great place to store it. Behind the freezer was a long skinny space that was used for storage. My friends and I would dare each other to go back there and touch the back wall. It was dark and we knew it was infested with spiders and maybe even other bigger creatures.

One year my parents had a water softener installed in the laundry room and it would turn on at night and make all kinds of hissing sounds and I would hear them while I was in bed and I spent several nights under my covers scared to death because it sounded like ghosts. I was so relieved when I figured out what the noises were.

Our basement was a scary place for me and I dreaded the times when my mom would ask me to go downstairs and get a can of corn or a pound of hamburger from the freezer or storage room. I would slowly creep down the stairs and through the hallway, turning on every single light along the way and then I would grab what I was sent to get, and as fast as I could I would turn the light off and run up the stairs. I had an imagination and it turned on when I was in the basement.

Upstairs was a different story. There were so many wonderful places to play. One that stands out is the living room fireplace. My dad built the most beautiful fireplace with a hearth that ran the width of the room and was about 1 foot off the floor. This was my stage – I would perform for my stuffed animals, for friends and family, and anyone else who wanted to be entertained - but mostly for myself. I would sing, dance and give talks to my captive invisible audience. My favorite thing was to play “Primary” and I would bring in dolls and stuffed animals and pretend that I was the music leader. We would sing and sing. This always made me happy!

In the living room there was also a small coat closet that I would change in to a fort. I took everything off the floor and I would bring my blankets, books, a lamp, and some snacks, and I would spend hours in there. The coats hanging down made it more cozy and I felt safe and secure in there. I was glad that my mom could see that I was having fun and she never got after me for making messes by bringing all of my things to other parts of the house.

In the early 1970’s my dad, with the help of my brothers when they were around, added on to the kitchen and made a larger kitchen with a huge family room. It was beautiful and we would get lots of comments on this room. It was the perfect party room and for many years our family would all come together and spend time in that room, eating dinner, celebrating the holidays, having slumber parties, and just hanging out.

I loved that home. It was a peaceful refuge from the world. We felt safe and secure there. It wasn’t big (4 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms) but there was a good feeling there. I had friends who grew up in very large, fancy homes on the hills above me and whenever we had a party or just wanted a place to hang out, we always came to my house. I didn’t understand why we weren’t up swimming in their indoor pools, or watching movies in their home theaters, or playing tennis on their courts, and enjoying the “finer things of life” at their houses. My house was more fun because they liked how welcome they felt and they were more comfortable in my home. My home was a refuge for more people than just my family. And my parents made sure that everyone who entered felt welcome and loved.

We all loved to be there in that house that my dad built with his own hands and heart and that my mother decorated the same way. So even though the house is gone, the memories are warm and fuzzy and they will always be imprinted on my mind and in my heart.