The House of my Dreams

#2 has to do with my paternal grandparents' house. I had a lot of fond memories there and occasionally I still have dreams of that place. It must have left quite an impression on me in my youth.

When I was growing up in rural Carroll county west TN I lived in a house right up the hill from my paternal grandparents. Down the road from us in one direction lived my dad’s 2nd oldest of 3 sisters, aunt Karen. Up on the other hill on the other side of the hollow from my grandparents lived at one time my oldest aunt, Sharon, and after her my youngest aunt, Sandra. So it was only natural for me to feel a closer connection to my dad’s family. We all were within a mile of each other and our properties connected for the most part. I would spend many Friday nights down at my grandparents’ house watching the dukes of hazard with my cousin Brian, fishing up at the big pond, playing kickball in the front yard, churning the homemade ice cream contraption in the summer, hunting for box turtles along the creek banks with my blue healer Shannon, and throwing dirt clods at anything that moved out in the field. But the one strongest memory I have overall is the house itself. A wood stove that rest on a brick foundation in the living room heated it. Christmas dinners and gift opening frenzies took place in the adjoining den. The main bathroom door could only be locked by pulling out the closest drawer so it would keep someone from opening it inward too much and give you time to say “hey occupied!” One of the extra bedrooms had red carpet and the other had blue. The couch in the den was almost exactly like the one Tony and Emily have in their apartment. Long, green and screaming of the 60’s or 70’s fashion…but comfy! One of my most vivid memories was watching the 86’ World Series game when Bill Buckner missed an easy ground ball at first base that let the Mets win the worlds series. Brian and I were just 3 feet from the TV screen jumping and high-fiving each other. I used to help my grandmother plant potatoes and green beans and corn in their garden. And I would be once again recruited for summertime black-eyed pea shelling, corn husking and green bean snapping when the time was right. My memory of that house is so strong even to this day. In May 1992, on a Sunday my aunt Sandra called to tell us that the house had burned down. We rushed out there just in time to see the volunteer firemen collapse the last standing wall into the huge pile of white ash. Suddenly that huge house didn’t seem so large. I could still tell where the living room used to be. I could still see the frame of the TV and couch, that ugly green but comfy couch. The only thing they could figure was that my grandma had left the stove on while preparing some food for the church’s fellowship lunch. She took it hardest of all. She sobbed sorrowfully into my dad’s shoulder as he comforted her. He told her, “Cheer up momma, that house was getting old. Now you can get a new house and make it just like you want this time…even better.” And he was right. That fall they finally moved into a bigger and better house. With a nice patio on the back where each summer about 50 hummingbirds swarm around all her flowers and feeders buzzing and squeaking and playing. Plenty of good times and good memories are being established in that new house. But there’s a reason I told you about the old house. Not because I am nostalgic at heart but for a more mysterious reason that will come in the next blog.