The more things change . . .
Happy Thanksgiving folks. I’ll be spending the day with Mom’s side of the family in the house where I grew up. If history is any judge, after dinner, half the family will clean up while the XY half will nap wherever they happen to find a spot in front of the living room TV. I’ll most likely wander around taking photos and inspecting the house to make sure everything is as it should be (familiar). In the kitchen, there’s a tall corner built-in cabinet with three sections, each of which is still lined with remnants of wallpaper that hung in the kitchen when I was a kid – the bottom section sports a red and white checked paper that dates back to my mom’s first kitchen remodel in 1979 while the upper cabinets are still lined with a fussy blue and white patterned paper that’s also long gone. The A1 and corned beef hash can always be found in that cabinet, just as the same books fill the built-in bookcases separating the living and dining areas. On the other hand, the house has WiFi and Mom loves her iPad, but it’s nice to know that some things change more slowly than others. Hope you have a great holiday. Cheers.
I find Mom’s flour and sugar containers to be deliciously retro, especially the olive green screw on tops.
Most of these books have been here as long as I can remember.
A long metal turnkey opens the original front porch windows. The walls were coated with pebble-dash like the exterior of the house. As a kid, I’d throw the basketball against the side of the house. Bam, bam, bam, bam, each bounce sending a cascade of pebbles to the ground. Now I’m appalled (and the wall is kind of bald).
My mom’s built-in medicine case with the original bead board backing. A hinged mirror closes to cover it. I feel 15 again when I look into the magic mirror – but with some wear. As my friend Matt once said, You might think I don’t look 35, and I might think you don’t look 35, but when I was 16, I knew a 35 year old guy when I saw one.
This is my room. As a pre-teen, I fought passionately for this wallpaper. Behind that door is a walk-in closet with a door to another walk-in closet – one of the the many strange closets I’ve had.
This is my Mom’s den.
According to family lore, I’m like 1/96th Native American.
At night, the kitchen always has this cold glow, but florescent bulbs were green before green was cool.
They really built them to last in the old days, didn’t they? This one keeps on chugging. Maybe I’ll use it as wall decor? Na.
That’s my cousin. He’s a good kid. Just two short years ago, he was (for some odd reason) terrified of the monster in the basement. I finally admitted that the monsters probably don’t live there anymore, and now he seems to like it down there.
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