tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7301586145140787353.post2576180075433356553..comments2023-10-30T06:46:11.502-05:00Comments on noodleroux: Time travel through real estate.Becky Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08351322716749475996noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7301586145140787353.post-17471008457745083352016-07-20T18:20:12.632-05:002016-07-20T18:20:12.632-05:00 I had this bookmarked for a while and finally got... I had this bookmarked for a while and finally got to read it today. It is so sweet and reminds me of when we broke up our parents home after they died. Such a bittersweet time. I love how you captured it. You touched my heart. Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14664097336440373659noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7301586145140787353.post-14454260011214399452016-07-13T04:51:39.260-05:002016-07-13T04:51:39.260-05:00Late to the party here. I've been lucky enough...Late to the party here. I've been lucky enough to tour my childhood home (ages 5-16) and not much had changed (ugly carpeting gone) because the owner was just beginning to make upgrades. But I've only been able to drive past my mom's old house once since we sold it a few years ago. I wonder what changes have been made there and I hope it is a place of happiness. <br />Your words to the new owners are a treasure! Karen (formerly kcinnova)https://www.blogger.com/profile/08965093440928340819noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7301586145140787353.post-4106929878248285852016-07-07T12:19:23.145-05:002016-07-07T12:19:23.145-05:00Oh, friends. THANK YOU for your kind comments and ...Oh, friends. THANK YOU for your kind comments and for showing me that I'm not the only nostalgic sap. Or, if we're being kinder to ourselves ... "present human who remembers stuff."<br /><br />Mary, I had to look up "The House That Built Me." Oh, maaaaan. Ugly tears, here. Woo.<br /><br />Jenny, I love the idea of "dam houses!" My Guy has an uncle who is a "dam kid" - his family moved in to build a dam. Funny how those things that seemed so normal and off-the-cuff can become precious with time.<br /><br />Bent, I, too, live in an older home. I'm lucky that one of my neighbors has lived on the street for 40 years and remembers everything, but I have a fantasy that some little old lady will show up on my porch and tell me she grew up here. I will absolutely let her in and ply her with baked goods and beg for stories.<br /><br />Becky ... it's all so bittersweet, isn't it? It's like the past is so close and yet so, so far away. <br /><br />Green Girl, I'm sorry about your grandma. You're so right about the changes being necessary but ... oh.<br /><br />Kristen, I hear you. I think this heartache is the dark underside of having the privilege of growing up in a place where you have such deep roots. It makes change all that much harder. <br /><br />I love you all!Becky Brownhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08351322716749475996noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7301586145140787353.post-68541181914980563242016-07-06T19:52:44.688-05:002016-07-06T19:52:44.688-05:00I have wondered the same thing about the house my ...I have wondered the same thing about the house my dad grew up in. I spent almost every day of my life until I started kindergarten in that house. My grandpa passed away and grandma moved into an apartment in the fall of 2000. She planned to have sale and already had a buyer ready for the spring...my freshman year at Mizzou. I spent winter break in that big, old house by myself instead of at home because I needed that. The house is at the end of a dead-end street, so I have to want to drive by it when I'm home. So much about it has changed on the outside. I want so badly to go inside, but I think I would have the same mental reaction you did. Maybe when my kids get a little older and can appreciate it, I'll knock on the door and ask the new owners for a tour. I'll remember your story when I do. My mom's childhood home and farm were torn down last winter. My uncle, the terminal bachelor, lived there until he and mom sold it. My grandpa died when I was four - my only memories of him were on that farm. I asked to see it one more time before they pushed it over, but never got back there to do it. It needed to be torn down and I can accept that, but I'll never have closure. I just have to close my eyes and remember back to when things were easier and someone else was responsible for stuff like paying the bills and fixing my hair :) Not gonna lie, I usually end up crying. Glad I'm not alone in being a sappy nostalgic!!Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08693872955016233432noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7301586145140787353.post-50936721294724161922016-07-06T10:20:55.717-05:002016-07-06T10:20:55.717-05:00That was a lovely thing to say to them. That house...That was a lovely thing to say to them. That house will go on to shelter love, how good to have people care for it. This was a great trip down memory lane in a way for me, too, since my grandma died last year and we gathered for final times in the house and now a new couple live there and are updating it in a myriad of necessary ways. Bittersweet.<br />It's the little things, like the position of a TV set, that flood our senses.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7301586145140787353.post-59875461855477156042016-07-06T07:44:36.151-05:002016-07-06T07:44:36.151-05:00The current owners of my grandparents home ripped ...The current owners of my grandparents home ripped down my granddad's garage and put a huge addition on. It mostly blends in, except for the concrete block on the foundation. And that kills me. I haven't gone inside, but I have stood on the property line at the back yard, from the side of the Catholic church - the one my parents were married in (among other family milestones) - at the back door of the parochial school we attended (my parents met there in first grade) and then proceeded to sit in the graveyard where my aunt and cousin are buried to realize I can't quite go home again, but I can at least have a picnic in the back yard. For that, I'm grateful.Beckyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13879162672311458964noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7301586145140787353.post-54367863888127331402016-07-06T06:14:18.584-05:002016-07-06T06:14:18.584-05:00What a great experience! I bet it was bittersweet...What a great experience! I bet it was bittersweet, but I'm glad that you got to see it. <br /><br />As a new homeowner who bought an older house, it's interesting to hear your take on things. We bought our house from a lady who bought it from an estate. She lived in it for five years and didn't do anything to the interior (obvious, given the floral print wallpaper). Maybe someday the children or grandchildren of the previous owners will stop by and we will get to show them what we've done. BentNotBrokenhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10151724076659555122noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7301586145140787353.post-77206223621407741682016-07-05T20:39:45.666-05:002016-07-05T20:39:45.666-05:00Heck, I ABSOLUTELY cried! My grandparents lived a...Heck, I ABSOLUTELY cried! My grandparents lived across town and we spent SO much time there. Grandpa died when I was four, but my Grammy was so wonderful; and I don't remember she ever got her feathers ruffled. And what a peculiar little house--it had been hauled from a nearby town where it had originally housed workers who built Shasta Dam in far northern California; there are still "dam houses" here and there around town. Oh, Grammy Grace, how I miss you! Becky, thank you so much for writing this post!Jenny Hart Borenhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06587246633354905840noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7301586145140787353.post-51069180812743243902016-07-05T18:43:57.396-05:002016-07-05T18:43:57.396-05:00Ohhhhh, I would certainly cry if I ever had the ch...Ohhhhh, I would certainly cry if I ever had the chance to visit either my grandparents' or my childhood home again. I mean, do you know the song, "The House That Built Me"? I'm guessing you don't love country music, but no matter. That one makes me cry every time. Mary @ Giving Up On Perfecthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12879039457971511498noreply@blogger.com