A "For Sale" sign posted in front of the house my grandparents lived in from the 1930s to about 1960 caught my attention over the weekend. I immediately went online and found a few photos and I'm hoping for an open house (photos). I would love to see the inside where I spent many happy hours of my childhood playing make believe in the upstairs bedrooms, helping my grandfather print church bulletins in the basement, and enjoying big family dinners in the dining room. At grandma's house, just four short blocks from my family home, there were always homemade cookies and lots of activity.
The setting is nothing like I remember from the 1950s. Several houses are now crowd in on all sides instead of an orchard, long rows of raspberries, and a barn. A railing protects the porch from children who liked to jump off into the bushes and there are sidewalks and a finished driveway in place of gravel. Sometime maybe I will write about my bicycle wipeout on that nasty gravel.
It looks like the inside has been updated, but the familiar fat newel post still stands at the bottom of the narrow stairway and the bathroom has the same tiny windows my cousin had to crawl through when I was locked in with his sister. During the 1930s, nine family members shared that one bathroom and children slept two to a bed in the small bedrooms.
I will never forget the magic of that house especially when it was filled with the sights, scents, and sounds of a family Thanksgiving celebration. Whenever the family gathered, it was a tradition to take a photo on the front lawn. This one is from about 1958. I'm the blond on the right with the puffy skirt.
PS - The house has already sold and they have taken down the photos. . . I will have to think of a plan B.