Yeah. That's true. For me anyway.
The second picture is what remains of our neighbor's cabinet-making business. There used to be other barns in the background, but those were torn down by my brother and the neighbor's eldest son. My house would be behind and to the left.
The school where I went for grades two through six. It's not a school anymore, although it is still a government building. That roundish portion on the right is new. They tore apart the entire right side where I spent my last two years.
This shot show another round addition to the left. I wonder why they closed the school. There'a heck of a lot more people out there now than when I was there.
This is the house my parents built after the fire. It wasn't blue back in 1973. The siding was stained redwood. The people who bought the house from us thought it would look good to paint over beautiful redwood. They did add a porch. That wasn't there when we built the place. My room was in the upstairs left corner. Helvie's room was right below mine.
I took this shot just to show the gnarled trees which remain from forty-plus years. They are some of the few remaining trees from the fire. They survived from being so far away from the original house.
This is an original building to the farm. We called it the Root Cellar. It was actually in quite good repair when we left. Now even the bricks are falling away. This was our storm shelter in case of tornadoes. Dirt floor. No windows. No electricity. For some reason it seems sad to see it so decayed. The greenhouses used to be to the right, but Daddy and Mother destroyed those right off. Then we used the space for a garbage pit. The orchard is gone, too. A dozen fruit trees. All gone.
On the way back home I drove by Stephen's old house. It was about five miles from mine. When Stephen lived here the house was yellow. No trees. Stephen's room was in the basement, at the near corner.
Very little remains of the places I knew growing up. Ball fields are identifiable simply because the wooden posts which supported the backstops have yet to topple. But the screens are gone. The fields are overgrown with weeds and, in one case, two large trees. So many houses are gone. My own, included. We only lived in the house above for a little more than a year.
.
FairyHedgeHog suggested I might do a photo spread for my 100th post. I decided to do that, but with a slight twist: I wouldn't use pictures of my current neighborhood. Instead, I would return to the place where I spent most of my youth and take pictures there. I reference it so much, particularly on A Voice in the Wind, it seemed appropriate. It was a shock to return after so many years.
.
I generally go back there about every five years just to look around. It's been closer to ten now. Things have changed drastically. Lots of new roads, houses, and malls. Old roads are gone - or moved! They actually moved a road.
.
But what amazed me was how few buildings remained. Houses, stores, barns, and a host of other places just aren't there anymore. I had taken Son with me. I was going to show him all the places where various friends and such lived. So many of their houses are gone. Wiped from history.
.
And yet some of the most decripit places remain. They were decrepit when I was young forty years ago. They're still there.
.
This first picture is of the old creamery in the local town, just a mile north of my old home. It was an abandoned building all through my growing up years. We kids found a way to break in through the pipes and use it as a clubhouse. Doesn't look like it's used today. Yet no one tore it down. Seems odd. Especially when I discovered the local grocery store is gone. ALL of the businesses in town are gone. But the creamery remains.
The second picture is what remains of our neighbor's cabinet-making business. There used to be other barns in the background, but those were torn down by my brother and the neighbor's eldest son. My house would be behind and to the left.
The school where I went for grades two through six. It's not a school anymore, although it is still a government building. That roundish portion on the right is new. They tore apart the entire right side where I spent my last two years.
This shot show another round addition to the left. I wonder why they closed the school. There'a heck of a lot more people out there now than when I was there.
This is the house my parents built after the fire. It wasn't blue back in 1973. The siding was stained redwood. The people who bought the house from us thought it would look good to paint over beautiful redwood. They did add a porch. That wasn't there when we built the place. My room was in the upstairs left corner. Helvie's room was right below mine.
I took this shot just to show the gnarled trees which remain from forty-plus years. They are some of the few remaining trees from the fire. They survived from being so far away from the original house.
This is an original building to the farm. We called it the Root Cellar. It was actually in quite good repair when we left. Now even the bricks are falling away. This was our storm shelter in case of tornadoes. Dirt floor. No windows. No electricity. For some reason it seems sad to see it so decayed. The greenhouses used to be to the right, but Daddy and Mother destroyed those right off. Then we used the space for a garbage pit. The orchard is gone, too. A dozen fruit trees. All gone.
On the way back home I drove by Stephen's old house. It was about five miles from mine. When Stephen lived here the house was yellow. No trees. Stephen's room was in the basement, at the near corner.
Very little remains of the places I knew growing up. Ball fields are identifiable simply because the wooden posts which supported the backstops have yet to topple. But the screens are gone. The fields are overgrown with weeds and, in one case, two large trees. So many houses are gone. My own, included. We only lived in the house above for a little more than a year.
I went back expecting memories to flood. They couldn't. Nothing looked the same. There is so little left to trigger a memory. So now I will rely on smells and sounds, which inexplicably bring me back thirty and forty years in time. More than once I have said to Spouse upon walking outside: It smells like summer in 1965. It doesn't look that way any more. It never will again.
I suppose I should take pictures of this town and save them. Son is going to need them when he comes back searching for a memory. I don't know what it will be like then, but it won't be like it is now.
2 comments:
That sounds kind of sad.
I love the pictures. It's so much more countrified than anywhere I've ever lived.
"It's so much more countrified"
You should have seen it forty years ago. What's interesting is that the new construction tends to look as run-down as the original appears. I'm not sure there's a lot of money in the community even today.
I may go back when the snow's gone and see it all greened up. Late spring and summer are much more cheery than winter.
NOTE: What I did not photograph was that the people who currently live at our old place have some kind of business which deals with machines, grease, and grime. Doesn't make for a good picture.
The house looks a lot smaller than memory allows.
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