Walking Backwards
July 20th, 2007 by FiddledeedeeMary, over at Owlhaven, is hosting a carnival about memories of our childhood homes. This hit close to my hormonal heart. Please indulge me as I trip merrily down memory lane.
I was just shy of my 4th birthday, the first time I walked up the concrete sidewalk, leading to our new house. I stood there, looking up at it, as it rested on a small hill. It loomed large in front of me. It was beautiful. I looked to my right, past the tiny creek and up the next hill to see a yard with a chain link fence. Inside that fence, a small girl with long chestnut brown hair was pushing her doll’s baby buggy around her yard. I waved. She waved back. I said to my mother, “Mommy, there’s a little girl I can make friends with.” And I did. Karen became my best childhood friend and companion.
When we moved in, 1964
Those images are seared into my brain. Very vivid images, considering my age. But, many years later, my mother affirmed my memory. When I think of home, I always think of Texas. But, this little house in Springdale, Ohio, a suburb of Cincinnati was by far, my favorite place to live. And I’ve lived in a lot of places and houses. We were there from about 1964 until 1971 or 72. My most happy childhood memories were created in that house.
It was a time when my family was together and happy. Before teenage angst, before divorce, before the realities of life hit me square on the head. Innocent childhood days were spent playing with Barbies for hours on end and arguing over who was cooler, Donny Osmond or David Cassidy.
In my mind, even today so many years later, I could walk through the rooms and remember every minute detail about that house. The scratch on the closet door in my room. The dent in the closet door of my brother’s room where he tried to run me through with his saber sword. (Who in their right mind would give an 8 year old boy a sword? Dad?)Where each and every heater register was located. Those were cold winters in Ohio, and on frigid mornings I was jockeying with our cat for the best position in front of the radiator vent. I remember the feeling of the cold den floor on my bare feet. And the smoothness of the stone on the fireplace hearth. I loved the smell of that stone. I’ll just let my freak flag fly when I tell you that I use to taste it. When no one was looking. So, it should be absolutely no surprise to me that my two year old son occasionally still drops to his belly to lick the sidewalk. I can still hear the sound of the front door, when my dad would come home from work. It was a large double door, and it rattled. And the sounds of my mom working in the kitchen, frying chicken.
The backyard was a child’s dream. My parent’s installed a chain link fence around it, the kind that had two dogs facing one another on the top of the gate. There was a beautiful Magnolia tree by the house in the back that smelled wonderfully sweet in the Spring. We had a playhouse with a fort on top and a real staircase leading up to it. Summer days were spent splashing in the 3 foot above the ground pool, which was shaped like a figure 8. My dad planted fruit trees in the back yard, and we spent many many afternoons on the back porch, making hand cranked homemade ice cream. My job was to sit on the top, to hold it still while my dad cranked. I weighed all of 45 pounds, soaking wet, so I don’t believe I was all that efficient. However, it did usually net me the first spoonful. And my rear end would thaw eventually. On cool summer evenings, we would haul the little black and white TV out to the porch and watch an episode of “Twilight Zone” while eyeing the fireflies suspiciously in the yard.
It broke my childish heart to leave that house. My school. And my friends. We moved to an old Victorian house in Harrison, Ohio, because it was a dream of my mother’s to have a big old house in which to showcase her beloved antiques. We stayed on in Ohio for another year and a half, and were transferred back to Texas.
I swore to my friends that I would be back when I turned 18. That was nearly 30 years ago. I never returned. Someday I will. And I will be shocked by the changes. The woods in back of our little house are now occupied by a hotel. The vacant lot next door, where we played many a kick ball game is no longer vacant. I wonder if the fruit trees still grow in the backyard. And if the evergreen tree we planted in the front yard after it served as a Christmas tree is still there.
There was an unsightly sewer grate in our front yard when we moved in. My mother, in true southern fashion, placed a concrete bird bath on the top, and planted a tulip bed which encircled it. She reasoned that the soil would be awfully fertile, and well, when life gives you sewage, make art out of it.
1971, if you look closely, that’s me in the 2nd window from the left
I hope that whoever is there now, loves that house as much as we did. I look at my children, who are the same age as we were then. And I pray that we are making magical childhood memories for them in this house.
Fiddledaddy was raised in the same home that his parents now live in. And we visit often. So, it’s hard for him to understand when I get all melancholy, looking backwards. Maybe it’s just a girl thing. Or maybe it’s just me.
And my pre-menopausal whacked out hormones.
Posted in My Life as I See It |
July 20th, 2007 at 5:14 am
Beautiful memories. I love how you captured your feelings.
July 20th, 2007 at 5:41 am
I’m in the Cincinnati area and yeah…Springdale is way different than you describe it then.
Thanks for sharing.
July 20th, 2007 at 6:11 am
You lived in the Brady Bunch house! Well, it looks like it, anyway.
Funny how happy memories can make us so sad.
July 20th, 2007 at 6:17 am
Great post! I also wrote about Donny Osmond in my post about my childhood home….. what are the chances…lol
July 20th, 2007 at 6:43 am
What a great tie from past to present - and something I forget to think about. I wonder if we’re making the right sort of memories for our kids in our house… What will they remember years down the line? I’m pretty sure it won’t be whether or not the furniture coordinates with the curtains!
July 20th, 2007 at 6:47 am
Oh this is beautiful!
My 3 yo son has been licking the garage door. I now wonder if he will be blogging about the taste of the non-lead based paint in thirty years??
July 20th, 2007 at 7:06 am
I just recently went back to my childhood home. It was destroyed in the tornado that hit Greensburg, KS on May 4th. Even though it was an empty lot I could still pictue where everything was and it brought a smile through the tears. Thanks for reminding us that it’s the memories and the people that matter.
July 20th, 2007 at 7:34 am
This post was both beautiful and humorous. Thanks for sharing!
July 20th, 2007 at 7:50 am
awe that kinda made me sad for you.. You should go back and visit.. it sounds like you really would like to.
July 20th, 2007 at 7:59 am
My husband lived in the same house all his life too, and has no appreciation for all the nostalgia. I think it goes deeper than just the house, it’s something you can’t put your finger on.
I loved this post and all your memories.
July 20th, 2007 at 9:28 am
I would need a police escort to comfortably go to my childhood home…well maybe just a bodyguard to feel safe with. Somehow we need to bottle those magical childhood memories. Blessings…
July 20th, 2007 at 10:03 am
I have so many childhood homes that I wouldn’t know where to start!
One neat thing is that this one house we lived in when I was maybe 4th grade was later moved into by my husband’s family, and they still own it!
July 20th, 2007 at 10:24 am
What a sweet look into your childhood! When I first read it, I had to jump in on the carnival, too. Thanks for sharing!
July 20th, 2007 at 10:54 am
Sweet memories. Thanks for sharing.
July 20th, 2007 at 11:16 am
That does look like the Brady Bunch house
I loved reading this, Dee Dee.
July 20th, 2007 at 11:17 am
Hey,
I’m in the Cincinnati area. Yes, the winters can be cold. I suppose especially to someone form Textas. Cool story!
July 20th, 2007 at 11:32 am
My mom moved out of my childhood home when I was 25 and I remember walking through the empty rooms, reliving the memories, and sobbing (being pregnant probably contributed to the sobbing!). I understand that melancholy…
This was really beautiful. Thanks for sharing your memories and childhood home with us!
July 20th, 2007 at 1:39 pm
This is beautifully written. You have a much better memory for details than I do!
July 20th, 2007 at 2:41 pm
I live about 10 miles from my childhood home.
Good memories.
July 20th, 2007 at 3:16 pm
enjoyed your memories. especially all the rock licking. i used to enjoy holding a pebble in my mouth.
July 20th, 2007 at 5:14 pm
I’m not so good with memories…maybe that’s why I started scrapbooking.
Anyway, I loved reading about your memories of this house.
July 20th, 2007 at 5:46 pm
Great memories! Thanks for sharing!
July 20th, 2007 at 7:30 pm
Ah, yes. Ohio winters are fun, aren’t they? I remember laying my PJs over the space heater in the bathroom trying to warm them up before putting them on.
Thanks for the guided tour!
July 20th, 2007 at 8:10 pm
My childhood home was also in Ohio and my sister and I did argue over Donny Osmond and David Cassidy. I was the Donny fan…that purple sock thing got me. Great cultivation of memories…I’m glad it was good for you to look back.
July 20th, 2007 at 8:19 pm
Thank you so much for sharing your pictures. I am crying, you have described that beautiful so well.
What wonderful memories. 
July 20th, 2007 at 9:59 pm
Neat memories-fun house!
Mary
July 20th, 2007 at 10:09 pm
What wonderful memories. It sounds like a great childhood home.
July 20th, 2007 at 10:20 pm
Dear Dee Dee,
Thank you for sharing your memories. I enjoyed reading them, as I do all your posts.
As I have looked back through the years, especially since my only brother died 8 months ago from cancer, it amazes me the little seemingly insignificant things that trigger those memories. Such as, remembering one family holiday break as the place my Dad ordered pink lemonade for us (pink 7-up). It really was pink. And how we would drive from Christchurch to Hamner Springs, stopping at roadside cafes for coffee made entirely with milk. Devonshire teas with my Mum (scones (biscuits) and jam (jelly) and hot tea/coffee, at the Hot Baths cafe (While my Dad and my brother would continue enjoying the Hot Baths).
We lived in many houses over the years, moving almost every year, sometimes to a whole new country. We date things by the house we were in.
Now I date things by when which one of our 7 children were born.
We are now living in the same house we did when our first 2 were babies/toddlers.
Sorry for the epic, you have me on a roll here.
Blessings,
Bec.
http://www.askbec.blogspot.com
July 21st, 2007 at 11:45 am
Dee Dee,
Thanks for your wonderful blog; I have been reading it for close to a year now. As someone whose father worked for the government and moved around alot, I totally get the feelings you have for your old house. I feel the same way about all the places we lived (CA (don’t remember it though, VA, MN, OH (Blue Ash-near Cincinnati), MI, and back to OH as an adult. I love when I have the chance to revisit these places where all my childhood memories, and I too, have so many specific memories about such little things (like the hole in my wall where my brother slammed my door into my wall!). Memories are great though.
I do have to comment on OH winters though. After spending 4 years in MN, we were amazed at how mild OH winters can be. Our first year of school in OH, they actually called off school for drizzle that they were afraid was going to turn to ice. We absolutely couldn’t believe it when the kids told us to go home from the bus stop; we were so used to only getting off school if the snow was up to the rooftops or it was 100 below windchill. haha. Thanks again for your great blog!
Crista
July 22nd, 2007 at 2:21 pm
This was a beautifully written post and I loved seeing the photos. Great job!
Hugs!
Kat
July 22nd, 2007 at 7:45 pm
Geez, thanks for the sniffles and tears. I really, really need to look at a pic of my childhood home now. Dang!! Again with the hormones…