In the fall of 2017, I received a phone call that proved without a doubt there are some pretty thoughtful people in this world. On the line was a young woman named Toni. She had purchased my childhood home and was in the process of remodeling it when she found a ceiling tile that included names and dates. She decided it was special, and after several months of investigation, she found the owner on Facebook…ME! How many people would take the time to do that in this fast-paced world? What’s more, Toni invited me to visit, and I gladly accepted.
My parents purchased this small, white framed home in 1951 with five acres of land for $4900. I can remember three or four different additions to accommodate their needs. Not many homes I knew back then were as comfortable as ours … or maybe I am just partial. Momma was known for her hospitality, so people were always coming to visit. There were always pots on the stove and a cake sitting either on the washer or dryer or the long chest freezer, all of which was in the kitchen. I didn’t’ say it was featured in House Beautiful.
Folks came in and just made themselves at home. There was plenty of room. Two rocking chairs served as extra seating. Space heaters kept us warm in the winter and we finally got air conditioning units when I was in high school. Oh, happy day! Louisiana is so hot and humid.
Holidays would find us with lots of company for Easter egg hunts, Christmas and Halloween bashes, reunions and family get togethers. Our yard would look like a parking lot. Children would be running hither and yon. Mother had a green thumb and spent a lot of time with her flowers. She had a large squared off flower bed in the front yard that she planted every November with tiny seeds and a few months later, there would be bright fuchsia colored poppies about 3 feet tall filling that bed. People she did not even know would stop and she would give them seeds. I always thought she planned for that to happen, I mean, putting it right out near the road!
When I got a call at work in the early ’90s asking why they were painting the house purple, well, I just shrugged my shoulders. I already knew that calling Momma would be futile. She was not going to waste good paint. From then on, our purple house definitely served as a compass point for the area. It was known by many. And it wasn’t really purple but you can look at the pictures and judge for yourself.
If Momma saw a framed picture that she liked at a yard sale, she brought it home proudly, grabbed a hammer and the first nail she could find and hung it up. The quilts that she and her mother made together covered each bed. And over her bed, hung a studio portrait 16×20 of my oldest sister, Diane, who was revered and loved by the family. We thought she was special, too, being the oldest and very pretty, not to mention brainy. There were no pictures of me or my younger sister Becky, but we didn’t mind.
Momma and Daddy lived there for 53 years until so called “progress” forced their move. The road was being widened, so many of the families in that once very rural area were being forced to move elsewhere. It seems the state was purchasing the homes to either sell, move or demolish. Daddy held out as long as he could refusing to even speak with the state reps that came by to “make offers.” But the inevitable happened; and I helped my parents make decisions.
It was an extremely sad time for my parents and other neighbors that had been life-long friends along this once gravel road. As Momma said, everybody was being scattered from hell to breakfast. The fact that they moved into a larger home with more conveniences was of no consolation. Although my parents did have a few good years at the new house, Daddy drove back to the empty acreage countless times to just walk around. Somehow, I learned where the old house had been moved not far away and took them to see it. It made them so sad we never went again; and I tried to avoid the subject.
Daddy had already passed away and Mother was in the throes of Dementia when I got the call from Toni. As I drove up, there was some semblance of the house I had lived in, but it was completely gutted with evidence of construction. Of course, the new tan paint totally threw me off. Meandering around inside, I began to identify our bedrooms, kitchen, bathrooms. Toni explained that the kitchen was going to be very modernized and have an island. Momma would have loved that. Overpowered with images of the past brought on the waterworks. Sentimental, I definitely am.
As soon as I saw the tile, I immediately remembered sitting on the floor writing some of our family history on the back of the tile. High on the ladder, Daddy was installing new tiles on the ceiling. On this particular tile, I had written all of our family’s names, birthdays and the statement “I’m writing this so if anyone tears down our house, they’ll know that our family has been there since June 14, 1951 and the date now is July 15, 1966.” I was 14 years old. I explained to Daddy why I was doing that and he just laughed. He had little faith that anyone would ever find it.
Toni, my gracious benefactor, also gave me a window since all the old ones were replaced. Now restored and transformed into a lovely mirror, this window hangs proudly in my home. As I stand in front of it, I strain to see our long, straight gravel driveway lined with mimosas, azaleas and bridal wreaths. And the kith and kin that sauntered through those doors … why didn’t I appreciate it more?
Momma and Daddy are gone now but they both would be so happy to see the house with a new family enjoying its comforts. They cared little for material things knowing those were of little value. Family is all that matters.
I knew this house very well !
So glad to read the story, wonderful memories of growing up in a simpler time
So many wonderful memories of this beautiful home and all the fun times spent with your family and hours and days spent fishing that small pond in the back will always be cherished in my heart. The love given from your parents no words can express my gratitude. I am thankful for those times
Love your stories! The purple house was a true landmark and it saddened me when it was moved.
I remember it like it was yesterday, Riding our bikes up to the front door and asking if we could go fishing. ” The Good Ole Days”
Yes yes yes the good ole days!
Kathy
Kathy, the blog is wonderful! My mouth is watering and my eyes are tearing from the heartfelt sharing of the abounding Love of your Family! Thanks for this peek into your Special Memories and reminding us all to cherish our own Family Memories!!
Thank you for wharing such a beautiful story of coming full circle. We do often miss so many things in life, I’m very glad the new owner had the heart to search for you until she found you and how sweet that you were able to rekindle a good memory. I, too had a “hiding place”…a wooden floor square that the builders cut to “fit” as long as it was pulled out away from the baseboard. But if you pushed it just a bit under the basboard and part of the wall, it made a GREAT secret place to hide notes for the future….except, at some point I opened it before we sold the house and took them out only to place them only God knows where. Silly notes, but that’s the thought process of a 10 year old. LOL So my story just faded away into oblivion…Glad your lives on!
Thank you for reading and reaching out to me. Life is good. I hope we can enjoy every minute
Kathy
Kathy- What a wonderful memory! I loved your reading your story and can just imagine your family in their home. Thanks for sharing.
Kathy- What a wonderful memory! I loved reading your story and can just imagine your family in their home. Thanks for sharing.
I remember this home very well. And you are right, some of my favorite memories growing up is going to Baton Rouge to visit Aunt Tumpie, Uncle Ben and all my wonderful 2nd cousins. I remember going to drive in movies and eating ice cream at mid-night. Lots of love and laughter in your home. So glad you are sharing with the world!
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What wonderful “growing up” experiences you had, as shown by your memories and your character. I know your parents were so proud of you. Sad about the property having to be sold and your dad’s loss of his persimmon tree…no doubt he would enjoy those cookies. Tons of love grown and shown in that home…how fortunate you are to have been nurtured in that atmosphere…
I was so very lucky. My parents loved and sheltered us, maybe a bit too much because boy, was I shocked when I went out into that big old world.