For twenty years this was the view from my bedroom window. I don't know when this photo was taken but it was probably in October or November because during the warmer months the trees and bushes were green and the wild oat fields beyond the shrubbery were tall and wavy green and alive with quail, pheasants and jack rabbets.
Beyond the grassy fields were several small creeks which I frequently explored, chasing frogs and playing pretend games of being in the wilds of Africa or, with my BB gun, protecting myself from bandits and barbarians.
The neighborhood was sparsely populated and houses were identified by the owner’s name. In conversation, someone would say, “Did you see the Helmick house has been painted?” Or, “The County was doing work between the Anderson’s place and the road.”
I don’t think my parents actually knew the people in most of the homes, they just knew the names, probably because people had their names on mailboxes. Also, hardly anyone moved away and new constructions were uncommon so, after a while, in casual conversations, names and houses became a single identity.
Then something happened. Perhaps because of relaxed zoning codes, perhaps it was because of the proximity to a larger city or maybe it was just the result of over population ... whatever the reason, almost overnight, the area changed and became charmless and filled with row upon row of ordinary looking houses.
My parents eventually sold their house which was had been centered on two acres. Looking at the Google image, there are now six houses where once had been one.
The yellow circle is where my home had been and the arrow is towards the view from my bedroom. Of course, when I was seventeen I couldn’t wait to leave. I suppose, when I moved away, I assumed the house and view would always be there. No, sometimes you simply can't go home.
8 comments:
Yes it is sad to not have that beauty. The place I grew up in became crap before my eyes due to money being paid to the local officials. The gorgeous old library with the wooden floors and brick arches, filled with the smell of books, became a Burger King. Even as a child I was disgusted by it all. The two lane road between me and the local market/ice cream/candy became four lane highway and a horror to cross. Yeah it sux. The man responsible for making the place I grew up in ugly beyond reason,lived in the house across from ours. Soon that family moved to a big hill in the country with two historic homes on it....and so it goes.
PQ - We have this thing called memory and with it comes the ability to compare and contrast.
What I find sad, lots of people have similar stories yet it seems we simply can't maintain a status quo.
Change is a force of nature and we can adapt, fight it or move on.
Does look a little different. But if it was the same I thing that you have moved on, and wouldn't go back for frog hunting or sneaking through the wheat.
Joe _ the disorienting part of it, the street names were the same but everything was different ... all the houses of my childhood's neighborhood are gone, replaced by something else. Compounding this, the neighborhood of my childhood was populated by working class people who took pride in having neat and tidy homes. Now the area is shabby and rundown looking. Things didn't pay forward.
The feeling I had when standing at the spot were our driveway had been was, nothing remains, none of the old stories, gossips ... nothing. I might as well be in a foreign country.
oh, that's kinda freaky, how densely populated it is now. there's a house next to my parents' house now, close enough to surf on his wifi, but they've still got 40 acres on the other side. :-)
Now your view would be the back-side of the DMV. The whole of our little town has exploded in houses and too many people and higher crime and icky traffic. Probably part of the reason I stubbornly hang onto the 2.5 acres I was born & raised on. I just can't bear to think of this property bulldozed of its trees and shrubs to make way for over-built, ugly, 2-story hovels of humanity.
Cheryl - it's curious, the things remembered. I have vivid recall of the many oleanders, most of which were 8 ft. tall, and of an olive tree. The olives were jumbo sized which we occasionally picked, treated and ate.
And the quail ... mama quail would sometimes lead her chicks out of the tall grasses and onto the lawn. They zig-zagged, very quickly, like a tiny train with many passenger cars.
Your view was beautiful. It certainly filled up.
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