I spent many wonderful moments in your beautiful home..... enjoying conversation and laughter and wonderful meals... Most of all I loved sitting at your kitchen or dining table looking out on those beautiful woods with a trickling creek.... Special memories...
I loved your beautiful home in the woods. Jim’s right, it looked like the house grew there. The big windows and the reliable warm welcomes were the highlights for me. I thought your upstairs room was the coolest. Thanks for sharing your thoughtful words on what defines home. I’m touched, and still churning on my own perspective of home. 🩷
Like, Barry, I spent a lot of time at 902 West Parkway. I remember your room upstairs probably better than my own. I was JEALOUS of the skylights, the quirky bathroom, the isolation from the melee below (HA! And we KNOW who created a lot of that melee...). The entire house was like a second home to me, always felt welcome when I walked in, for the familiarity to my family home (thank you, Norman~) and your Mom's incredible cooking!! And your Dad, always reading a paper, trying to stay out of the whirlwind! Good memories...thanks for sharing!
Your first paragraph, Elizabeth, brought back fond memories of the letters from my parents: witty, but few from my father, twice a week from my mother. She would type them, because she said her handwriting was so bad (an inherited trait, I fear); they were full of updates on family, friends, and local news. For over 40 years she continued to send those much-expected letters. Unlike you, unfortunately, I saved few of them, which I very much regret. Through her letters I felt joy and sorrow, kept up-to- date with a new niece and nephew, learned of deaths of family friends, and never felt estranged from my small home town. When her failing health caused her to stop writing, I felt an immense loss. I hope she knew how much those Wednesday and Sunday letters meant to me.
A lovely read, Elizabeth, and the comments are part of this moment of remembrance that we are all having. Thanks for kicking it off!
I smiled through all of it, staying close to you during the tour, and losing myself occasionally in the memory of my house-of-origin, in Wilmington, DE. I went back to visit it in 1999 (20 years after my mom sold it). The new owner said everyone in the neighborhood still called it "the Hickman House."
The phrase that made me "Oooooo..." audibly was about the Trimline phone With Its Own Number! Talk about a dream room!
And letters! We are likely the last generation to write them; and maybe the last to collect them. Fifteen-cent stamps. Aerograms. Post cards. So old the rubber band around them has come apart.
Oh Elizabeth, this glorious tribute to such a special place is absolutely beautiful. What an incredible letter to your parents - I'm so thrilled that you've shared it here. ❤️
Reading this from many time zones away (I believe it’s 13 now) you brought be right back to that wonderful place. No, that room wasn’t quite mine, but years later it informally became “the twins room” during our many visits. Predictably, is was the site of much giggling, frolicking and assorted mischievous escapades, much our mother’s delight. We did not miss out on wonderful memories. We share many of our own.
My family moved frequently due to my father's work. My parents always sought out good school systems for us and my mother was always able to make each house a home. I have all the childhood and adolescent memories of those houses but your lovely piece makes me wonder what my parent's memories of each might have been. I most recently recall driving away from their last home on the lovely island in Maine. My then 95 year old father and I had driven out for one last look and I was bemoaning the newly painted hardwood floors (RED!!), when he patted my hand. "It's their home now."
What a great home! Both the structure and the life you all lived in it sound like the stuff of TV families I grew up watching (and I mean that in the best way).
Like someone else, I was struck by the existence of the letter on paper, which made me think again about our conversation about things. Now, I'd probably send such a letter through email, and it would get lost in the ether. How great it is that you have it, Papyrus and all. :-)
This was beautiful reading. How prescient were you to write such a letter!
A beautiful house as well, Elizabeth, sequestered in the woods. I can imagine the birdcalls and the ghostly images of your family life flickering in the leafy background.
As to letters - I wish we all still wrote real letters. There was excitement walking to the letterbox and joy in the process of carrying a letter inside, making a cuppa and grabbing a cookie, sitting down and slitting the envelope, unfolding the letter... we need it now more than ever!
Beautiful post about a beautiful home. I've always thought it's rather sad when people have to downsize to a more manageable place, especially when it means leaving their dream home.
This is absolutely wonderful ! A mutual friend sent this to me today -she saw it on fb ! My husband and I are the currant owners of your wonderful childhood home -bought from your folks 20 years ago ! Would love to hear more stories and to have you over to see what changes we have made and what we have kept just the way it was when your parents built this great house . Please reach out the next time you are in HP ! Don has our contact info ❤️
I spent many wonderful moments in your beautiful home..... enjoying conversation and laughter and wonderful meals... Most of all I loved sitting at your kitchen or dining table looking out on those beautiful woods with a trickling creek.... Special memories...
I loved your beautiful home in the woods. Jim’s right, it looked like the house grew there. The big windows and the reliable warm welcomes were the highlights for me. I thought your upstairs room was the coolest. Thanks for sharing your thoughtful words on what defines home. I’m touched, and still churning on my own perspective of home. 🩷
SOOOOOO LOVELY!!!!!!! I love this so much!!!
Like, Barry, I spent a lot of time at 902 West Parkway. I remember your room upstairs probably better than my own. I was JEALOUS of the skylights, the quirky bathroom, the isolation from the melee below (HA! And we KNOW who created a lot of that melee...). The entire house was like a second home to me, always felt welcome when I walked in, for the familiarity to my family home (thank you, Norman~) and your Mom's incredible cooking!! And your Dad, always reading a paper, trying to stay out of the whirlwind! Good memories...thanks for sharing!
Your first paragraph, Elizabeth, brought back fond memories of the letters from my parents: witty, but few from my father, twice a week from my mother. She would type them, because she said her handwriting was so bad (an inherited trait, I fear); they were full of updates on family, friends, and local news. For over 40 years she continued to send those much-expected letters. Unlike you, unfortunately, I saved few of them, which I very much regret. Through her letters I felt joy and sorrow, kept up-to- date with a new niece and nephew, learned of deaths of family friends, and never felt estranged from my small home town. When her failing health caused her to stop writing, I felt an immense loss. I hope she knew how much those Wednesday and Sunday letters meant to me.
May the current owners love this house as your family did, and fill it with their own memories.
That WALLPAPER!! oh, glorious HP in the 70s, long live our grooviness!
A lovely read, Elizabeth, and the comments are part of this moment of remembrance that we are all having. Thanks for kicking it off!
I smiled through all of it, staying close to you during the tour, and losing myself occasionally in the memory of my house-of-origin, in Wilmington, DE. I went back to visit it in 1999 (20 years after my mom sold it). The new owner said everyone in the neighborhood still called it "the Hickman House."
The phrase that made me "Oooooo..." audibly was about the Trimline phone With Its Own Number! Talk about a dream room!
And letters! We are likely the last generation to write them; and maybe the last to collect them. Fifteen-cent stamps. Aerograms. Post cards. So old the rubber band around them has come apart.
So long as we can remember, let's do it!
Oh Elizabeth, this glorious tribute to such a special place is absolutely beautiful. What an incredible letter to your parents - I'm so thrilled that you've shared it here. ❤️
Reading this from many time zones away (I believe it’s 13 now) you brought be right back to that wonderful place. No, that room wasn’t quite mine, but years later it informally became “the twins room” during our many visits. Predictably, is was the site of much giggling, frolicking and assorted mischievous escapades, much our mother’s delight. We did not miss out on wonderful memories. We share many of our own.
My family moved frequently due to my father's work. My parents always sought out good school systems for us and my mother was always able to make each house a home. I have all the childhood and adolescent memories of those houses but your lovely piece makes me wonder what my parent's memories of each might have been. I most recently recall driving away from their last home on the lovely island in Maine. My then 95 year old father and I had driven out for one last look and I was bemoaning the newly painted hardwood floors (RED!!), when he patted my hand. "It's their home now."
Thank you ! Your work is wonderfully evocative!
This is so incredibly special - such a beautiful tribute to your home.
What a great home! Both the structure and the life you all lived in it sound like the stuff of TV families I grew up watching (and I mean that in the best way).
Like someone else, I was struck by the existence of the letter on paper, which made me think again about our conversation about things. Now, I'd probably send such a letter through email, and it would get lost in the ether. How great it is that you have it, Papyrus and all. :-)
This was beautiful reading. How prescient were you to write such a letter!
A beautiful house as well, Elizabeth, sequestered in the woods. I can imagine the birdcalls and the ghostly images of your family life flickering in the leafy background.
As to letters - I wish we all still wrote real letters. There was excitement walking to the letterbox and joy in the process of carrying a letter inside, making a cuppa and grabbing a cookie, sitting down and slitting the envelope, unfolding the letter... we need it now more than ever!
Cheers...
Beautiful post about a beautiful home. I've always thought it's rather sad when people have to downsize to a more manageable place, especially when it means leaving their dream home.
This is absolutely wonderful ! A mutual friend sent this to me today -she saw it on fb ! My husband and I are the currant owners of your wonderful childhood home -bought from your folks 20 years ago ! Would love to hear more stories and to have you over to see what changes we have made and what we have kept just the way it was when your parents built this great house . Please reach out the next time you are in HP ! Don has our contact info ❤️