My house is still standing. My mom still lives there. My mom and dad built it when I was a baby. And I mean my dad actually built it - not had it built. He, my grandpas, uncles and various friends all pitched in. I was always proud of our house. Most of my friends lived in older homes. My house was only as old as I was!
The house doesn’t feel like home to me anymore. In fact, I always feel anxious when I’m there. I’m not sure why. I have great childhood memories of that house. Although my dad died in the house (heart attack at 54) but I was already out and married. That could be part of it. My mom keeps the house clean and tidy but she refuses to do any updates or things like painting. I feel like she’s letting it die. That could also be part of it. I don’t think I’ll feel too bad when it has to be sold.
According to my parents, the house I grew up in (from age 8 to 21) was cut into two pieces, driven twenty miles down the road and then reassembled. I wish I could have seen that as a time lapse video!
Grew up in uptown New Orleans from 0-11 years old (1960-1971). House is still there and looking pretty good. Just down the street from Commanders Palace. My parents built a new home in Metairie when I was 11 and they owned the home until I was 25 (married and moved out). Home looks beautiful still.
When I went into the navy and got a security clearance I had to give the addresses I’d lived in since birth. Like I said above, from 5 onward was easy but I had to get Mom’s help for everything before then. It took her about an hour but she managed to remember the four or five addresses we’d had here and there in the Los Angeles basin.
She said to wish the investigators luck – about half of them were under freeways.
It’s weird to realize the post WWII boomer houses are 65 to 75 years old. My ranch was built in 1955 (66 years old). It’s required a lot of regular maintenance to keep it in good shape.
I live in a neighborhood of homes built in 1948-52.
In the nine years we’ve lived here a large proportion of our neighbors who were the original buyers have either died or gone into supported living arrangements (nursing homes or assisted living). I do not believe there is a single one of the original buyers still living here (they’d be in their 90s at least)
Some of the houses are occupied by the next generation of the family, while there is one family where the second generation (in their 70s) is in the original family home, while the fourth & fifth generation are in a house almost across the street (couple in their 20s with a new baby). My wife can’t figure out why I that that is so cool. Our nine years in this house is by far the longest we’ve lived in one place and neither of us has lived anywhere near our parents in our adult lives.
Because it is a tangible reminder of what family is supposed to “be”? Stability, continuity across time, identity, the words used typically are tradition, heritage, memories, etc.
Eh, not everyone subscribes to all that, or uses the same mechanisms to achieve those things anyway, but you could try that and see if that clicks the light on for her.
Yes, it’s still standing, though it’s been sold and the folks who bought it changed not only the house but the lot as well (no more chicken coops and stuff). The house I grew up in was old…it was over 100 years old when we had it. It’s an adobe house of the old school…foot thick walls, narrow windows, no built-in electricity or running water. The folks who have it now have changed a lot of it, but it’s still in one of the really bad barrios so it’s not exactly become an upscale yuppy home or anything like that.
How do I feel about it? I visited there about 6 months ago and really, didn’t like how it had been changed. There used to be a large veranda in the back (filled with spiders and cow skulls, of course ) which is gone now. They have divided the lot and put up another house thing where the chicken coops and goats were, and they have a bunch of cars parked there. It looks a lot smaller now than it did when I was a kid. I guess I’m a bit sad about how it is, as well as how the neighborhood, never a great place, has really gone down.
My parents still live there and I’ll be there on Friday. I don’t worry about what will happen to it after they are gone but I hope they make good decisions about what to do with it while they are here.
This happened to my father. My father never lived in my grandmother’s last house, which she bought just after my father married my mother. He and his brother still own it though, because my father couldn’t bear to sell it after she died. Ironically, my grandmother gave the house my father and uncle grew up in to them when they were both grown. They sold it nearly as quickly as they could with no particular sentimentality that I can remember.
The house I went home to from the hospital is still standing. The only place I’ve ever lived that isn’t was a group house I rented when I went to graduate school.
Mrs. Charming and Rested’s friend and former boss was selling his family home. It was a lovely, well-maintained house in great neighborhood with great schools. It was going to sell quickly but the owners were very sentimental about the house and particularly, about a tree in the front yard. The tree was not only beautiful and very old but the tree was one element of a national news story centered around their lives. The owners offered to sell the house to us at a good price but we weren’t in a position to afford it then and it didn’t fit into our lifestyle at the time (although if I had it all to do over again…)
Given how hot the neighborhood was, they knew they could the buyer to agree as a covenant to preserve the tree. The buyer was very happy to accommodate them. As soon as the ink was dry on the contract, the buyer tore down the house and built a McMansion. Our friends were heartbroken but they hadn’t specified preserving the house as part of the deal. It had never occurred to them that the buyer would tear it down.
Both the house that I came home to from the hospital is still standing, and the home we moved to when I was 4 is still standing. I haven’t been in the first house since we left, but I could draw you a layout of the home right now. The second house, is the house my parents built when I was four. I lived there until 1987, when I moved out to start my own life. My parents lived there until 2005, at which time they sold it to move closer to the maximum number of grandkids. I haven’t returned to that house since then.
I just looked up both houses on Google maps, and the exterior of the homes haven’t changed that much, but the lots, landscaping and areas surrounding both homes has changed significantly. I don’t really care what happens to the houses. It’s the memories of living in both places that mean the most to me, not the condition they are in now.
When my family moved from my childhood home–we apparently sold to a real asshole. He tried to sue my folks over not leaving the curtains in one bedroom.
He then went on to remove anything of character from the house. The house was backed by a city park and we had a beautifully landscaped multi-tiered backyard…he filled it all in and even removed the fence so literally there’s no clear delineation between the city park and the property. The only good thing is he planted some trees in the back–but removed the trees from the front yard.
All this from just looking at google streetview.
I had not been back in over 20 years… but was back there for a roadtrip and drove by… the owner was outside andI thought about stopping and asking if I could look around more and see what he did…but chose not to. .
A recent street view showed big changes in progress. Total facade redo I’m sad for the red brick planters all across the front primed gray at the moment. Not for the better except for the new front door, and golly it’s same damn door I’ve found to replace at my house.
Yeah, mine is still there. I drive past it on occasion when I’m home visiting the folks. It’s nice. I’m glad that I don’t have to be glum about yet another connection to the past no longer existing.
The house I grew up in now belongs to my sister. It was almost mine; after my mother died everything was supposed to be divided evenly among her five children, and after some discussion it was decided that I would buy the house from the estate, using my fifth as the down payment. Then suddenly my sister decided that she and her husband wanted it; they already owned a house but wanted to live in the neighbor she grew up in instead of where they were currently living.
For a while this caused a bit of a rift in the family, until I decided owning the house wasn’t worth breaking up over.
I can see how your sister’s decision would have caused some resentment, since she already owned a house. I think you were right to let it go, though. When my parents gave most of their belongings away prior to moving cross-country, my siblings got all the antique furniture, including the pieces made by our grandfather, as well as china, etc. I got some china, a silver tea service, and a couple of vases. Mom said I didn’t get furniture because I lived out of state, but one of my sisters also lived far away, and Mom had furniture shipped to her. It still stings a bit, but ultimately I decided the important thing was that the heirlooms were still in the family and getting good care. I still don’t understand Mom’s reasoning, but I know she loved me, and it wasn’t worth making a fuss about it.
My parents were the original owners of the house in 1960. My siblings were already born I came along later. Its the only house I knew growing up. My mother still lives there. I suspect when she goes whoever buys it will expand it like most of the house in the area.
not everyone subscribes to all that, or uses the same mechanisms to achieve those things anyway, but you could try that and see if that clicks the light on for her.
) which is gone now. They have divided the lot and put up another house thing where the chicken coops and goats were, and they have a bunch of cars parked there. It looks a lot smaller now than it did when I was a kid. I guess I’m a bit sad about how it is, as well as how the neighborhood, never a great place, has really gone down.