It seems strange to dedicate a whole post to the bedrooms of my childhood house but since there are many memories there, I guess it is more than just who slept where.
The upstairs was at the top of a longish staircase that had a double railing of heavy wood. The low one was perfect for smaller children and the higher one for adults. From the landing at the top of the stairs, you could see into the dining room on the first floor, living room and entrance hall o the second floor. It was a great place to yell from when you needed to pass a message along. It was also very convenient to drop the dirty laundry from the landing to the first floor, where it could be taken to the laundry room. There was a door the allowed privacy to the upstairs bedrooms if there was a party below. My parents enjoyed entertaining so this was great to give us some quiet. This door also came in handy at Christmas and Easter time so my parents could do the Santa thing or prevent us from seeing the surprises that waited below.
As a young girl, before my brother was born and a little after, my bedroom was the smallest in the house. It was yellow and next to parent's bedroom. My sisters shared the room next to me. It was a large room with twin beds that slid under bolsters to make them more like couches. The bolster lifted up to hid treasures. Mostly I remember stuffed animals being there. I used to sneak in their room to play. The beds were along intersecting walls and there was a corner table. the end of the bed could slide under the table or not. When it was not, under the table made a great hiding spot. I would take Pinky, a stuffed dog/sheep?, with floppy ears that had soft undersides that were soothing to rub. I still have Pinky but he was never really mine.
There was a closet outside my room that boxes of dolls from the countries my grandfather had visited and Stieff puppets and animals. I guess the Stieff animals were the Beanie babies of the 60's and 70's. You were never supposed to remove the tags and the tags had the animals' names on them.
I remember more about my sisters' room than I do my own. I must have played in there quite a bit.
There was a linen closet next to their room that held crisp white cotton sheets and thin cottons blankets of lavender and yellow. You could get to the attic through this closet. There was another bedroom on the other side of the closet. That would be my sister's room later, then mine as a teen.
The bathroom that we girls shared had two sinks, a laundry hamper built into the vanity, another great hiding place, and large flowers on the medicine cabinets that bookended the vanity. The floor had a random pattern of pink and white tiles. I remember looking for repeating patterns on that floor.
My parents had a large room with a balcony that looked over the back patio. There was a long mirrored wall with a counter where my mom could put on makeup, a sink outside the bathroom where my did could shave while mom was having a shower in the proper bathroom. The ceiling was high and they had a wall unit A/C when the rest of us had to make due with the gigantic ceiling fan in the hall that pulled air in our open windows to cool things somewhat.
My small room had windows that opened up onto the garage room. This was scary at times if you imagined that this would be the entry point of a robber. As I got older, my mother let me have the room painted pink. It was not a mellow pale pink but more the strong pink that was just a shade darker than Pepto Bismol. I think I have a pretty bedspread and curtains. I also remember rearranging my room on a regular basis, by myself, something I must have inherited from my mother. I would sit in my room listening to an Alan Sherman record with a big chunk out of it (I never knew what the first few songs were because of the missing piece), Disney records and any others I could find in my sisters' room.
About this time, my parents had a second telephone line installed in the linen closet. The wire was long enough to stretch to either sister's room. My brother had a room downstairs at this time, lucky boy. My sister would fight over phone use and sometimes it would get ugly.
One sister went to college and there was a room shift. My brother was moved upstairs to the big room. The bolster beds were gone and he had a double bed. I used to stand outside his room and listen to him playing his baseball board game with his imaginary friend Brooksie (he was actually a real friend when my brother was younger but they did not play together much).
My room at this time had a dollhouse. I used to rearange the furniture in there all the time too. I even used to buy dollhouse furniture kits and make them. The attic of the dollhouse was my secret laboratory though. I used to mix "potions" of soap, shampoo, and other things. I am not sure what the goal was but perhaps I should have been a pharmacist.
When the next sister went off to college, I got her room. I loved the built in shelves for my collectables. China animals, novelty candles, my crafts and books filled the shelves. We had the room painted green, bright green and for one wall, I chose a wallpaper with a basket weave pattern and a metallic base. This was my room until I moved out of the house after college.
I remember being locked out of the house after babysitting one night. The dad of the family brought me home and I had no key and no one was home. All the accessible windows were locked too. I remembered my bedroom window was unlocked but it was on the second floor. The garage with the ladders was locked too. We got a garbage can and flipped it over under my window. I climbed on his shoulders and he climbed onto the garbage can. I opened the window and rolled in. That was the closet I ever came to being in a circus act.
My parents remodeled and my old room became a sitting room off their bedroom. Their once large double closets became a built in dresser with mirrors, the makeup area became a walk in closet and the bathroom was updated, although now I cannot really remember how.
I still have the bedroom furniture my parents had when they got married in the 50's. They used it until they remodeled. It is now my bedroom furniture. I thought I would have updated by now but it is tough to spend money on furniture when what you have works just fine, but may not be the most stylish. It was well build and could use a refinish. I will add that to my list.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Friday, October 19, 2012
The house I grew up in- part 3
There are always things about the house you grew up that stick in your memory. When you are young, you don't really think about a house's functionality or livability. As I look back on my memories of 303 Valleyview Garth, I think that it was a perfect house for a family of six.
The fact that the house was a split level made things interesting for us.We used to practice jumping stairs. You knew you were getting braver when you could jump from the entrance hall over the stairs down to the first floor. We were allowed to use the railings, kid rules.
The double front door opened to the entrance hall. The floor was slate and the was a ceiling light that hung from the exposed beams. My mom broke part of the light practicing her tennis serve. It was a good open space to play with tops, or practice roller skating.
Off the main hall was a coat closet with a mirror. It could be called a power room except it did not have a sink or toilet. The large mirror had a shelf in front of it so people could put purses there and find a compact in their purse. One coat closet was small and used for guests to put coats in. The other closet was larger and had shelves on one side where we kept luggage. When I was sad, I would go into the depths of the closet and cry my eyes out. It was comforting somehow being under the coats that smelled like my family. I would stroke the fur coats and sob. The softness made me feel better. I don't know if my parents ever knew that was my hiding spot when I was sad.
Another door off the entrance hall led to the guest room. There was a full bath in there too. That was handy in a house with four kids but we never realized it until we got older. We did not have central air conditioning growing up. The only A/C was a wall unit in my parents room and central air on the middle floor. On hot summer nights, the kids would take turns sleeping in the guest room. I remember one night I awoke for no particular reason. I heard a man's voice say "I love you, Nell" from outside the closed door. I thought it was dad and went to look. There was no one there. I shrugged and I went back to sleep. The next morning, I asked dad why he came down to say that. He told me he did not come down to tell me he loved me. He had slept through the night. I know I heard it and strangely enough, I was never afraid to be in that room. When friends came to spend the night, we usually hung out in the guest room in sleeping bags.
The living room was open to the big hall. We had family gatherings there. This piano was in there so we had to practice for our lessons there. All the piano music was in a cabinet wall that looked over into the dining room. We would often yell to each other over the cabinet wall down to the family room. Dad had wired the stereo speakers in these cabinets as well, so whatever was playing downstairs, was playing in the living room. Great for weekends when Dad thought we should be awake and he would blast some uplifting get the heck out of bed music. Luckily I was an early riser.
We had a card table there where we learned to play pinochle and hearts. My parents had Bridge night. We were a big card playing family. It was fun. Many times we would move the furniture and stretch or do gymnastics. Looking back, out gymnastics was pretty close to yoga these days without the breath. We played melodicas that my grandfather bought for us in Germany. I think it was supposed to be a special room just for guests because there were times I think we had to ask for permission to be in there. That seems to be a pretty vague memory because of the amount of time we spent in there.
My first kiss was in that room during a truth or dare game. Entertaining was something my parents always encouraged. They never wold let us have alcohol but many of the parties I had were school related or smaller when we did not thing about drinking. We, meaning me and my friends, I can't speak for my siblings.
My mother was always rearranging the furniture in our house and the living room was probably the room that changed the most. The constant of that room was a glass topped coffee table with really sharp edges. Surprisingly, none of us ever got hurt on it. She also bought the longest most comfortable couch ever! We would also sleep there on hot nights if someone had already taken the guest room. Years later, when Mom bought another couch, she had the super long one cut in half and reupholstered. She moved them to the family room. I eventually too them and they moved to Austin with me. I gave them away eventually.
The fact that the house was a split level made things interesting for us.We used to practice jumping stairs. You knew you were getting braver when you could jump from the entrance hall over the stairs down to the first floor. We were allowed to use the railings, kid rules.
The double front door opened to the entrance hall. The floor was slate and the was a ceiling light that hung from the exposed beams. My mom broke part of the light practicing her tennis serve. It was a good open space to play with tops, or practice roller skating.
Off the main hall was a coat closet with a mirror. It could be called a power room except it did not have a sink or toilet. The large mirror had a shelf in front of it so people could put purses there and find a compact in their purse. One coat closet was small and used for guests to put coats in. The other closet was larger and had shelves on one side where we kept luggage. When I was sad, I would go into the depths of the closet and cry my eyes out. It was comforting somehow being under the coats that smelled like my family. I would stroke the fur coats and sob. The softness made me feel better. I don't know if my parents ever knew that was my hiding spot when I was sad.
Another door off the entrance hall led to the guest room. There was a full bath in there too. That was handy in a house with four kids but we never realized it until we got older. We did not have central air conditioning growing up. The only A/C was a wall unit in my parents room and central air on the middle floor. On hot summer nights, the kids would take turns sleeping in the guest room. I remember one night I awoke for no particular reason. I heard a man's voice say "I love you, Nell" from outside the closed door. I thought it was dad and went to look. There was no one there. I shrugged and I went back to sleep. The next morning, I asked dad why he came down to say that. He told me he did not come down to tell me he loved me. He had slept through the night. I know I heard it and strangely enough, I was never afraid to be in that room. When friends came to spend the night, we usually hung out in the guest room in sleeping bags.
The living room was open to the big hall. We had family gatherings there. This piano was in there so we had to practice for our lessons there. All the piano music was in a cabinet wall that looked over into the dining room. We would often yell to each other over the cabinet wall down to the family room. Dad had wired the stereo speakers in these cabinets as well, so whatever was playing downstairs, was playing in the living room. Great for weekends when Dad thought we should be awake and he would blast some uplifting get the heck out of bed music. Luckily I was an early riser.
We had a card table there where we learned to play pinochle and hearts. My parents had Bridge night. We were a big card playing family. It was fun. Many times we would move the furniture and stretch or do gymnastics. Looking back, out gymnastics was pretty close to yoga these days without the breath. We played melodicas that my grandfather bought for us in Germany. I think it was supposed to be a special room just for guests because there were times I think we had to ask for permission to be in there. That seems to be a pretty vague memory because of the amount of time we spent in there.
My first kiss was in that room during a truth or dare game. Entertaining was something my parents always encouraged. They never wold let us have alcohol but many of the parties I had were school related or smaller when we did not thing about drinking. We, meaning me and my friends, I can't speak for my siblings.
My mother was always rearranging the furniture in our house and the living room was probably the room that changed the most. The constant of that room was a glass topped coffee table with really sharp edges. Surprisingly, none of us ever got hurt on it. She also bought the longest most comfortable couch ever! We would also sleep there on hot nights if someone had already taken the guest room. Years later, when Mom bought another couch, she had the super long one cut in half and reupholstered. She moved them to the family room. I eventually too them and they moved to Austin with me. I gave them away eventually.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
The house I grew up in: part two
I am not sure how many square feet the house I grew up in had, but the remodel the current owners did, made it a whopping 5,320 sp ft. Zillow also lists the year it was built as 1963. I was born in 1965 so I think maybe that is wrong as well.
The house was modern looking even when we were growing up. Maybe it was all the windows or the exposed beams on the middle level. I liked the details my parents thought of like the radiant heated floors. To me, the heat was most obvious in the laundry room. The dog loved to sleep there in the winter. It was comforting having warm feet when it was cold everywhere else. We did not have radiators or floor vents downstairs.
Downstairs there was also a spare room that went through many incarnations depending on what the family needed at the time. I remember it being and office with a couch that pulled out to a bed, it was a playroom, my brother's room and then an office again. We spent time in there playing with matchbox cars and building blocks, Lincoln Logs and Legos, Barbies too. We had one of those make rubber flower machines that really stunk but the flowers were pretty cool. I am not sure if we were made to stay in that room or if that was just where the toys were so we played there. At one point there was a television in there and during summer, my hour of tv a day was usually The Monkey's reruns and The New Mickey Mouse Club if I could find it on. From this room, you could see the legs of guests as they walked up the walk to the front door. If you got locked out of the house, you tried this window and the laundry room window first to see if someone left it unlocked.
Now before you went up the seven stairs to the mid level, there was the door to the basement. I always felt the basement was the misunderstood area of the house. Never painted or decorated. A sump pump in a dark corner, leaky windows and the occasional stream across the floor added to the scary dampness. There was a small room that my parents had intended as a wine cellar. I don't recall it ever being full but occasionally there were bottles there, certainly not when any of us were teenagers though. Mostly is seemed like a spider hotel in that room. At the bottom of the stairs and underneath we stored Christmas decorations and other decorations. Every year we would go digging around for the Trick or Treat pumpkins.
My mother also had a little area where she stored her art work and art supplies. I loved looking through all of that because I never remember her using any of it and it seemed very personal to me. There were large flat storage areas for her drawings and paintings. The wooden boxes of pastels, charcoal and oil paints were so beautiful to me. On top of a cinder block ledge there were a few other pieces of art, but I remember the odd laying down cow looking one that I think my dad made in school. They still have it at the current home.
We had a ping pong table down there and after my grandmother passed away, the pool table from her house was moved into the basement. A real billiard table with 300 lb slabs under the felt. I played more pool than ping pong and by the time I got to college, I was good enough to play pool at fraternities. The furniture that was stored down there was mid century modern. A blue floral couch with these long triangular pillow for the back of it was the comfy spot. Bertoia chairs with their orange and blue covers disintegrating. A boxy side board with doors that had fallen off held the plastic stereo. Out of date in the late seventies and eighties but super hot right now. I had a plastic potters wheel down there and an art table before I discovered boys.
As I approached the teen years, I painted some of the walls a strange lime green that was left over from my bedroom walls and I tried to make it presentable. We had parties down there. We would shut the door. My parents would open the door. We would turn the stereo up loud and the my parents would shut the door. We snuck beer in through the basement well windows and got caught once. At least I think we got caught....That basement was fun, not decorated enough to be really cool but enough to give us a privacy. Maybe too much privacy.
The house was modern looking even when we were growing up. Maybe it was all the windows or the exposed beams on the middle level. I liked the details my parents thought of like the radiant heated floors. To me, the heat was most obvious in the laundry room. The dog loved to sleep there in the winter. It was comforting having warm feet when it was cold everywhere else. We did not have radiators or floor vents downstairs.
Downstairs there was also a spare room that went through many incarnations depending on what the family needed at the time. I remember it being and office with a couch that pulled out to a bed, it was a playroom, my brother's room and then an office again. We spent time in there playing with matchbox cars and building blocks, Lincoln Logs and Legos, Barbies too. We had one of those make rubber flower machines that really stunk but the flowers were pretty cool. I am not sure if we were made to stay in that room or if that was just where the toys were so we played there. At one point there was a television in there and during summer, my hour of tv a day was usually The Monkey's reruns and The New Mickey Mouse Club if I could find it on. From this room, you could see the legs of guests as they walked up the walk to the front door. If you got locked out of the house, you tried this window and the laundry room window first to see if someone left it unlocked.
Now before you went up the seven stairs to the mid level, there was the door to the basement. I always felt the basement was the misunderstood area of the house. Never painted or decorated. A sump pump in a dark corner, leaky windows and the occasional stream across the floor added to the scary dampness. There was a small room that my parents had intended as a wine cellar. I don't recall it ever being full but occasionally there were bottles there, certainly not when any of us were teenagers though. Mostly is seemed like a spider hotel in that room. At the bottom of the stairs and underneath we stored Christmas decorations and other decorations. Every year we would go digging around for the Trick or Treat pumpkins.
My mother also had a little area where she stored her art work and art supplies. I loved looking through all of that because I never remember her using any of it and it seemed very personal to me. There were large flat storage areas for her drawings and paintings. The wooden boxes of pastels, charcoal and oil paints were so beautiful to me. On top of a cinder block ledge there were a few other pieces of art, but I remember the odd laying down cow looking one that I think my dad made in school. They still have it at the current home.
We had a ping pong table down there and after my grandmother passed away, the pool table from her house was moved into the basement. A real billiard table with 300 lb slabs under the felt. I played more pool than ping pong and by the time I got to college, I was good enough to play pool at fraternities. The furniture that was stored down there was mid century modern. A blue floral couch with these long triangular pillow for the back of it was the comfy spot. Bertoia chairs with their orange and blue covers disintegrating. A boxy side board with doors that had fallen off held the plastic stereo. Out of date in the late seventies and eighties but super hot right now. I had a plastic potters wheel down there and an art table before I discovered boys.
As I approached the teen years, I painted some of the walls a strange lime green that was left over from my bedroom walls and I tried to make it presentable. We had parties down there. We would shut the door. My parents would open the door. We would turn the stereo up loud and the my parents would shut the door. We snuck beer in through the basement well windows and got caught once. At least I think we got caught....That basement was fun, not decorated enough to be really cool but enough to give us a privacy. Maybe too much privacy.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
The house I grew up in- part one
My best friend from my teen years and beyond let me know the house I grew up in is up for sale. She mentioned there were some renovations done and the sellers want 1.3 million for the split level on just under 2 acres in Baltimore County.
I started thinking about the house on my way home from work. My parents sold it when I was in my twenties. All the kids were gone and it was a big house for them. I was not sad when they sold it because I had such good memories of it. Thinking about the house on the drive home tonight made me nostalgic though.
I was born ten days after it was finished. It was the only family house I ever knew. It was in the woods so you always thought it was dark earlier than it really was but it was cool in the summer. Here are some memories, in no particular order.
The roof was slate for many years. We used to climb up on the roof over the garage by standing on a rain barrel and pulling our selves up. Those slate tiles made great tiny table tops in our forest forts. My dad would get angry with us for pulling the roof apart. Now as a home owner, I understand that. The garage roof was the only place we had sun and the neighbors could not see us. We would lay out our towels and sun bathe slathered in baby oil and holding our double albums, covered with tin foil, under our chins.
There was a rope swing on a tree near the garage. If you were feeling daring, you could toss the knotted rope up to the person on the garage and they could swing from the garage. The tingly feeling you felt jumping onto the knot and swinging far into the woods, felt like freedom. The garage roof was also collector of frisbees and other things we managed to throw up there. My bedroom window opened up to the garage roof for many years when I was little. It was the smallest room in the house but I did not mind. I did climb out the window onto the roof from time to time to take in the night sky. Maybe that is why when I got older, my room was switched to another without an escape route.
The garage could fit two cars, a push mower, a cider press, four bicycles, a wheelbarrow, tools, and other odds and ends. We used the wooden garage door as an agreeable tennis partner, who never called you out. There were ball prints all over that double door.
We had a basketball net hung from the roof. It was lower than regulation height so everyone loved to play at our house. Endless games of H-O-R-S-E until it grew dark and kids had to scatter running home for dinner or bedtime. As my brother got older, we put up a regulation height one but it was not as much fun. It seems too hard and much more serious.
My parents were Amway distributors when I was growing up so you will never hear me diss Amway. It put me and my brother through private colleges. There was a stocked closet with various products. I liked the convenience of heading to the garage to raid the stock if I needed shampoo or toothpaste.
The door from the house to the garage was always sticky growing up. I remember when I was 6 or 7, I was having trouble getting the door open. In my childish frustration, I yelled, not so childishly,"This damn door won't open!" I was sent to bed without supper. My brother snuck me a tangerine. Well, maybe I asked him to sneak me one, but I had dinner.
The house was a split level. The back door was really the lower door and it opened to a mud room when the dog stayed when she was wet, or bad or we needed her out of the way. Some years later, our chinchillas lived in a cage there. There was a closet for coats and cubbies filled with mismatched mittens and ice skates. The 5x10 mud room had four doors. One to outside, one to the garage, one to the downstairs office and one to the family room.
Our family room had a wall of built in book shelves. My father's huge record collection and stereo were on the built ins, along with the World Book encyclopedias, the Child Craft book collection, story books, old year books and the odd decorative item to fill in the spaces. The built ins had a counter with cabinets underneath that had sliding doors. They were great for hiding in. We used to sit on the counter with our ears up to the stereo speaker listening to the Moody Blues, Peter, Paul and Mary, Jon Baez, Judy Collins or the Pink Panther soundtrack. The doors into the room opened in so we were hidden behind the doors when we sat on the counter. There was an exposed brick wall along one side with a raised brick hearth in front of a fireplace. Another wall was all full length with windows and a sliding glass door that opened onto a patio. This could be pretty creepy when you were home alone. The rest of the room was open to the kitchen so it was a natural gathering place.
One night, he dog started to have puppies on one of the sofa. It was okay, they were naugahyde, so a quick wipe with a damp rag, cleaned them right up. My brother and Iwere tasked with the couch wipe down. We used to write out names on them with the wet sponge. It made it more fun.
We used to do gymnastics in our leotards in the family room until my oldest sister scraped up her leg on the brick hearth, after that, we used the living room. I remember sitting on the floor of the family room playing as firemen ran by to put out a dryer fire. I remember my mother going to the hospital to have my brother. I think I watched the moon walk from there. I bet on Secretariat during a Preakness party my parents had. After school, I arrived home to watch the coverage after Reagan was shot. I played my favorite records for friends there and snuck in to watch my sister's Young Life meetings there.
I learned to cook in the kitchen with light blue formica counters. I made apple pic from scratch when I was in elementary school. My mother taught me how to make meatloaf and cut up a whole chicken (that never quite stuck). We learned how to make our lunch for school when we were in first grade. For twelve years I had PB&J, a piece of fruit and maybe a cookie in my lunch. I got a shock from the electric fry pan cooking something, but was convinced for years that someone really grabbed my shoulders and shook me instead of the shock.
We had a long spice cabinet on the top of the island. I loved reorganizing the spiced alphabetically. I would do that without being asked. We had a pantry with bags for onions and potatoes. Fresca and Tab were on the floor. Cereal was were the kids could reach it. Peanut butter was the next shelf up, baking stuff the next higher. Booze and sweets my parents wanted to stash for themselves were on the top. One year my parents bought a side of beef. The full size freezer, was full of a half a steer, wrapped parts in white paper with hard to read type identifying the parts.
Jobs were divided up in the kitchen. The younger ones emptied the dishwasher which sometimes meant climbing up onto the counter to put the glasses away. One sister washed the pots and pans and the other did the dishes that went in the dishwasher. We graduated jobs as my sisters went off to college.
There was a desk by the telephone. Pads of paper with notes from calls my mom had taken and doodles that she had drawn while on the phone remind me of my notes now from meeting at work. Even when the area was remodeled, the desk moved in the room and we added mail cubbies that collected more junk than they were useful. The phone remained on the wall with a long cord that could stretch as far as a teenage girl could get it to.
NEXT: Dining room, laundry, spare room and the party basement.
I started thinking about the house on my way home from work. My parents sold it when I was in my twenties. All the kids were gone and it was a big house for them. I was not sad when they sold it because I had such good memories of it. Thinking about the house on the drive home tonight made me nostalgic though.
I was born ten days after it was finished. It was the only family house I ever knew. It was in the woods so you always thought it was dark earlier than it really was but it was cool in the summer. Here are some memories, in no particular order.
The roof was slate for many years. We used to climb up on the roof over the garage by standing on a rain barrel and pulling our selves up. Those slate tiles made great tiny table tops in our forest forts. My dad would get angry with us for pulling the roof apart. Now as a home owner, I understand that. The garage roof was the only place we had sun and the neighbors could not see us. We would lay out our towels and sun bathe slathered in baby oil and holding our double albums, covered with tin foil, under our chins.
There was a rope swing on a tree near the garage. If you were feeling daring, you could toss the knotted rope up to the person on the garage and they could swing from the garage. The tingly feeling you felt jumping onto the knot and swinging far into the woods, felt like freedom. The garage roof was also collector of frisbees and other things we managed to throw up there. My bedroom window opened up to the garage roof for many years when I was little. It was the smallest room in the house but I did not mind. I did climb out the window onto the roof from time to time to take in the night sky. Maybe that is why when I got older, my room was switched to another without an escape route.
The garage could fit two cars, a push mower, a cider press, four bicycles, a wheelbarrow, tools, and other odds and ends. We used the wooden garage door as an agreeable tennis partner, who never called you out. There were ball prints all over that double door.
We had a basketball net hung from the roof. It was lower than regulation height so everyone loved to play at our house. Endless games of H-O-R-S-E until it grew dark and kids had to scatter running home for dinner or bedtime. As my brother got older, we put up a regulation height one but it was not as much fun. It seems too hard and much more serious.
My parents were Amway distributors when I was growing up so you will never hear me diss Amway. It put me and my brother through private colleges. There was a stocked closet with various products. I liked the convenience of heading to the garage to raid the stock if I needed shampoo or toothpaste.
The door from the house to the garage was always sticky growing up. I remember when I was 6 or 7, I was having trouble getting the door open. In my childish frustration, I yelled, not so childishly,"This damn door won't open!" I was sent to bed without supper. My brother snuck me a tangerine. Well, maybe I asked him to sneak me one, but I had dinner.
The house was a split level. The back door was really the lower door and it opened to a mud room when the dog stayed when she was wet, or bad or we needed her out of the way. Some years later, our chinchillas lived in a cage there. There was a closet for coats and cubbies filled with mismatched mittens and ice skates. The 5x10 mud room had four doors. One to outside, one to the garage, one to the downstairs office and one to the family room.
Our family room had a wall of built in book shelves. My father's huge record collection and stereo were on the built ins, along with the World Book encyclopedias, the Child Craft book collection, story books, old year books and the odd decorative item to fill in the spaces. The built ins had a counter with cabinets underneath that had sliding doors. They were great for hiding in. We used to sit on the counter with our ears up to the stereo speaker listening to the Moody Blues, Peter, Paul and Mary, Jon Baez, Judy Collins or the Pink Panther soundtrack. The doors into the room opened in so we were hidden behind the doors when we sat on the counter. There was an exposed brick wall along one side with a raised brick hearth in front of a fireplace. Another wall was all full length with windows and a sliding glass door that opened onto a patio. This could be pretty creepy when you were home alone. The rest of the room was open to the kitchen so it was a natural gathering place.
One night, he dog started to have puppies on one of the sofa. It was okay, they were naugahyde, so a quick wipe with a damp rag, cleaned them right up. My brother and Iwere tasked with the couch wipe down. We used to write out names on them with the wet sponge. It made it more fun.
We used to do gymnastics in our leotards in the family room until my oldest sister scraped up her leg on the brick hearth, after that, we used the living room. I remember sitting on the floor of the family room playing as firemen ran by to put out a dryer fire. I remember my mother going to the hospital to have my brother. I think I watched the moon walk from there. I bet on Secretariat during a Preakness party my parents had. After school, I arrived home to watch the coverage after Reagan was shot. I played my favorite records for friends there and snuck in to watch my sister's Young Life meetings there.
I learned to cook in the kitchen with light blue formica counters. I made apple pic from scratch when I was in elementary school. My mother taught me how to make meatloaf and cut up a whole chicken (that never quite stuck). We learned how to make our lunch for school when we were in first grade. For twelve years I had PB&J, a piece of fruit and maybe a cookie in my lunch. I got a shock from the electric fry pan cooking something, but was convinced for years that someone really grabbed my shoulders and shook me instead of the shock.
We had a long spice cabinet on the top of the island. I loved reorganizing the spiced alphabetically. I would do that without being asked. We had a pantry with bags for onions and potatoes. Fresca and Tab were on the floor. Cereal was were the kids could reach it. Peanut butter was the next shelf up, baking stuff the next higher. Booze and sweets my parents wanted to stash for themselves were on the top. One year my parents bought a side of beef. The full size freezer, was full of a half a steer, wrapped parts in white paper with hard to read type identifying the parts.
Jobs were divided up in the kitchen. The younger ones emptied the dishwasher which sometimes meant climbing up onto the counter to put the glasses away. One sister washed the pots and pans and the other did the dishes that went in the dishwasher. We graduated jobs as my sisters went off to college.
There was a desk by the telephone. Pads of paper with notes from calls my mom had taken and doodles that she had drawn while on the phone remind me of my notes now from meeting at work. Even when the area was remodeled, the desk moved in the room and we added mail cubbies that collected more junk than they were useful. The phone remained on the wall with a long cord that could stretch as far as a teenage girl could get it to.
NEXT: Dining room, laundry, spare room and the party basement.
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