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...
It was -- is! -- a becoming site. No idea quite how I ended up in farming, given that there was barely enough sun to grow grass, but that's a subject for another day. It was always a pleasure to have you there!
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. 🩷
I don't think I quite understood just how cool my cool room was until much later in life, though I knew I was one lucky girl. If your churn ends up coalescing in to something you want to share, Lyn, I'd love to hear it!
I can't quite picture your childhood home, Courtney (tell me more!), but I know we share the same fondness for the community we came up in. To say we were fortunate doesn't really do it justice, does it?
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!
Isolation from melee vs. creation of melee. Hmmmm.... I'd bet that was an even split. Haha! Since I moved away more than a decade before the house was sold, your memories of it in all its glory are even more recent than mine, Carolyn. You belonged there, for sure! The style clearly suits you. And yes, a big round of applause to architect, Norman Zimmerman. Here's a fun little journey, if you've not looked at it lately. LOVE the disclaimer at the top! https://www.ncmodernist.org/zimmerman.htm
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.
Witty but few from my father, for sure. I can probably count them on one hand! We also share the tenderness of losing the steady stream of letters from our mothers. Mine wrote in cursive, often with pens that didn't hold up for the duration of the letter, so there might be two or more different colors or ink weights, plus no small amount of her grumbling about that in her message. I still write to my children, though with greatly reduced frequency, given how modern forms of communication render it less necessary. I will always advocate for putting pen to paper, paper to envelope, stamped envelope to post office. It's an act of love! Thank you so much for this connection, Marcia!
I'm sure they do, Rona. I notice and have feelings, mostly positive, about the exterior modifications. I never went back inside, though my mother did and, as I recall, couldn't appreciate why they wanted to alter some elements. Like I said, it had been her dream home. She couldn't fathom changing it. Thanks for your comment.
LOL! Not sure we could describe much else in the house as groovy, the patchwork quilt wallpaper in my bedroom notwithstanding. My parents were pretty darn traditional about darn near everything. But yes, how amazing that the new owners saw the joy in keeping that kitchen the same! Thanks for sharing the fun, Stephanie.
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.
"The Hickman House"... what a joy that must have been to hear! The maternal grandparents I mentioned kept a home in Westfield, NJ that became my uncle's. Eventually, he moved to a care community and the house was sold to a young family. It would have been in the family for something like 80 years by then. When he died, the new family saw the obituary and invited any of the immediate family to come back and tour the house. What a gift for my mother to see her childhood home again and for all of us to appreciate how so much remained the same.
My parents used the excuse of keeping a second phone line "in case of emergencies." I think it was mostly to keep the peace.
I know you are probably right about us being the last letter-writing generation, at least in any appreciable way. But I hope there will still be a few hold-outs (one of my children among them!) Which reminds me -- I owe them both a letter! 📫
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.
You know, it didn't occur to me until now that the way the piece was written inadvertently made it seem as though you never connected there, or made your own memories. Of course you did, with your family! The boys were probably the first to run their trucks and trikes across the basement floor and to rumble through the living room. And how often did we avoid walking over that spot on the kitchen floor so as to not awaken them (or you) in the room below?! Thanks for the reminders, Rob.
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."
Drawing on my southern upbringing in all the right ways here, Susan, when I say "Bless your father's heart." As do most of us, my parents adapted to their places. My father died just four years after they moved for the last time and my mother spent another 13 in that townhome on her own. So many reasons why that final location was, I'm sure, their least favorite. As you can imagine, this house was the prize winner. Your father and my mother were both given the gift of very long lives. Or maybe it's us who were the recipients of that gift? Very much appreciate your reflections here.
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. :-)
We had a good life, Rita. Certainly not without heartache and certain kinds of hardship, but also filled with advantages I didn't fully appreciate back then.
I still send letters or handwritten cards every now and again. And on rare occasion when I receive one, it feels like I'm experiencing something semi-precious. I am very glad to still have this one. I don't know how much longer it will exist in paper form. Maybe this essay will inspire one of my children to hold onto a little longer? On the other hand, it might make it easier for them to toss the original. One thing is sure: I won't know what they decide, so it's out of my hands! 😅
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!
I'm good for it! Send me your address! The only issue is that my experience posting letters to places down under is that they can take more than a month to arrive, and I've had at least two never arrive at all. But it's worth a try.
Thank you, Prue. I thought of you and your special place as I put this essay together. <3
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.
Thank you, Terry. While some people feel they are doing themselves and their loved ones a favor, it is a real loss for many. Change is hard. For older folks whose recall and short term memory might never really catch up, especially so. Certainly wasn't a transition my parents wanted to make. They made the best of it, but it took a toll on both of them.
Sorry to hear that, Elizabeth. A friend of ours has downsized and made provision for if/when she is too old, feeble or ill to manage a big house, and for when she cannot climb stairs or needs a live-in carer. She's nowhere near that stage ATM (hopefully), but I wonder if that's the most sensible time to do it rather than when you absolutely have to, at which point it's harder to coppe, as you imply.
I think this is admirable, for those who can or will approach it this way. Having watched the process in my folks and other people I care about, it does seem that the longer you stay, the harder it is to leave. The real trick, I think, is in applying those same ideals when it's YOUR TURN to make the decision. :)
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 ❤️
Oh, Beth...! What an unexpected and amazing comment to receive! I would love to see the interior of the house again some day and will definitely take you up on the invitation when I have occasion to be in High Point again. Mostly, I'm thrilled you all love it as much as we did. The house really does deserve that. It is, as you know, a unique and special space. Please feel free to reach out to me anytime. Don has my 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...
It was -- is! -- a becoming site. No idea quite how I ended up in farming, given that there was barely enough sun to grow grass, but that's a subject for another day. It was always a pleasure to have you there!
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. 🩷
I don't think I quite understood just how cool my cool room was until much later in life, though I knew I was one lucky girl. If your churn ends up coalescing in to something you want to share, Lyn, I'd love to hear it!
SOOOOOO LOVELY!!!!!!! I love this so much!!!
I can't quite picture your childhood home, Courtney (tell me more!), but I know we share the same fondness for the community we came up in. To say we were fortunate doesn't really do it justice, does it?
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!
Isolation from melee vs. creation of melee. Hmmmm.... I'd bet that was an even split. Haha! Since I moved away more than a decade before the house was sold, your memories of it in all its glory are even more recent than mine, Carolyn. You belonged there, for sure! The style clearly suits you. And yes, a big round of applause to architect, Norman Zimmerman. Here's a fun little journey, if you've not looked at it lately. LOVE the disclaimer at the top! https://www.ncmodernist.org/zimmerman.htm
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.
Witty but few from my father, for sure. I can probably count them on one hand! We also share the tenderness of losing the steady stream of letters from our mothers. Mine wrote in cursive, often with pens that didn't hold up for the duration of the letter, so there might be two or more different colors or ink weights, plus no small amount of her grumbling about that in her message. I still write to my children, though with greatly reduced frequency, given how modern forms of communication render it less necessary. I will always advocate for putting pen to paper, paper to envelope, stamped envelope to post office. It's an act of love! Thank you so much for this connection, Marcia!
I totally agree with your comment about putting pen to paper. . . a seemingly lost art. Of course, the USPS doesn't make it easy these days.
May the current owners love this house as your family did, and fill it with their own memories.
I'm sure they do, Rona. I notice and have feelings, mostly positive, about the exterior modifications. I never went back inside, though my mother did and, as I recall, couldn't appreciate why they wanted to alter some elements. Like I said, it had been her dream home. She couldn't fathom changing it. Thanks for your comment.
That WALLPAPER!! oh, glorious HP in the 70s, long live our grooviness!
LOL! Not sure we could describe much else in the house as groovy, the patchwork quilt wallpaper in my bedroom notwithstanding. My parents were pretty darn traditional about darn near everything. But yes, how amazing that the new owners saw the joy in keeping that kitchen the same! Thanks for sharing the fun, Stephanie.
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!
"The Hickman House"... what a joy that must have been to hear! The maternal grandparents I mentioned kept a home in Westfield, NJ that became my uncle's. Eventually, he moved to a care community and the house was sold to a young family. It would have been in the family for something like 80 years by then. When he died, the new family saw the obituary and invited any of the immediate family to come back and tour the house. What a gift for my mother to see her childhood home again and for all of us to appreciate how so much remained the same.
My parents used the excuse of keeping a second phone line "in case of emergencies." I think it was mostly to keep the peace.
I know you are probably right about us being the last letter-writing generation, at least in any appreciable way. But I hope there will still be a few hold-outs (one of my children among them!) Which reminds me -- I owe them both a letter! 📫
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. ❤️
Thank you, Rebecca. I know you have strong attachments to your childhood home. I was sure you'd understand my own!
😘 I understand absolutely perfectly, Elizabeth! Hugs to you. 🏡
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.
You know, it didn't occur to me until now that the way the piece was written inadvertently made it seem as though you never connected there, or made your own memories. Of course you did, with your family! The boys were probably the first to run their trucks and trikes across the basement floor and to rumble through the living room. And how often did we avoid walking over that spot on the kitchen floor so as to not awaken them (or you) in the room below?! Thanks for the reminders, Rob.
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!
Drawing on my southern upbringing in all the right ways here, Susan, when I say "Bless your father's heart." As do most of us, my parents adapted to their places. My father died just four years after they moved for the last time and my mother spent another 13 in that townhome on her own. So many reasons why that final location was, I'm sure, their least favorite. As you can imagine, this house was the prize winner. Your father and my mother were both given the gift of very long lives. Or maybe it's us who were the recipients of that gift? Very much appreciate your reflections here.
This is so incredibly special - such a beautiful tribute to your home.
It's one of those things I'm glad I wrote at the time, Roe. And one that, as some pieces do, sort of wrote itself. Thanks!
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. :-)
We had a good life, Rita. Certainly not without heartache and certain kinds of hardship, but also filled with advantages I didn't fully appreciate back then.
I still send letters or handwritten cards every now and again. And on rare occasion when I receive one, it feels like I'm experiencing something semi-precious. I am very glad to still have this one. I don't know how much longer it will exist in paper form. Maybe this essay will inspire one of my children to hold onto a little longer? On the other hand, it might make it easier for them to toss the original. One thing is sure: I won't know what they decide, so it's out of my hands! 😅
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...
I'm good for it! Send me your address! The only issue is that my experience posting letters to places down under is that they can take more than a month to arrive, and I've had at least two never arrive at all. But it's worth a try.
Thank you, Prue. I thought of you and your special place as I put this essay together. <3
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.
Thank you, Terry. While some people feel they are doing themselves and their loved ones a favor, it is a real loss for many. Change is hard. For older folks whose recall and short term memory might never really catch up, especially so. Certainly wasn't a transition my parents wanted to make. They made the best of it, but it took a toll on both of them.
Sorry to hear that, Elizabeth. A friend of ours has downsized and made provision for if/when she is too old, feeble or ill to manage a big house, and for when she cannot climb stairs or needs a live-in carer. She's nowhere near that stage ATM (hopefully), but I wonder if that's the most sensible time to do it rather than when you absolutely have to, at which point it's harder to coppe, as you imply.
I think this is admirable, for those who can or will approach it this way. Having watched the process in my folks and other people I care about, it does seem that the longer you stay, the harder it is to leave. The real trick, I think, is in applying those same ideals when it's YOUR TURN to make the decision. :)
Yes. I'm afraid I am a failure in this regard!
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 ❤️
Oh, Beth...! What an unexpected and amazing comment to receive! I would love to see the interior of the house again some day and will definitely take you up on the invitation when I have occasion to be in High Point again. Mostly, I'm thrilled you all love it as much as we did. The house really does deserve that. It is, as you know, a unique and special space. Please feel free to reach out to me anytime. Don has my contact info.😊