I had planned to post this yesterday but the scanner wasn’t working properly.
This is the original ad for the house my parents bought in 1970. Hard to believe the price was only $13,900. But, minimum wage at the time was Roughly $1.60/hr. Financed through FHA, the payment was only $60.00/month.
The yard was a green barren area, but it didn’t take long for our father to plant more trees than was necessary. They were nice to climb and lovely to behold, but mowing around every … single … one with a push mower wasn’t the best way to spend a few hours. Ask my brother, Chris.
A house that becomes a home isn’t just a lot of lumber pieced together. A home is much more than that. Security. Warmth. A family working together and creating memorable moments. And if you’re really lucky, you’re blessed with love and respect for one another. None of these are guaranteed, however, and not all are required. We never possessed them all, and some of what we had, disappeared.
I have so many memories, good and bad, from spending most of my early life in this house. My imagination sprouted, and as I matured, my curiosity grew, too.
Behind this house was thirty acres of woods. Adjacent to that was Boykin’s Farm pastures (a couple hundred acres) with several ponds. This area teemed with places for a young boy to explore. My childhood days were before technology occupied and lured the mind (thankfully), and I spent hours outdoors every day. Back then, I got up before my parents and went outside barefoot. Often, during the summer months, my siblings and I stayed out well after dark. It was fun to see what insects were attracted to the porch light.
This was my first home. I cherish the memories. Even in my early fifties, my heart gets stirred and occasionally, I feel a slight tug calling me to visit. Not all the memories were great, but overall, I felt safety there.
Several years ago, when I went to Chattacon, we drove past the old place. A new family has it now, and most of the large oaks, maples, and sycamores are still standing. I can tell you about each tree and approximately the time our father planted them. Those tall trees were nice places to climb and hide on a warm breezy day. From the top, I could see several miles in each direction. I hope the new family has blessed memories in their future living there.
Home is where the heart is, and since what remains of this old homestead is in my mind, it’s no longer home. My home now is with my wonderful wife of twenty-six years, and we certainly hope our children and grandchildren have fond times to recall when they get older.
Until next time ….
