Whatever happened to …

… your childhood house?

Along with a couple of people I went to school with, we moderate a private Facebook group devoted to memories of our childhood community. Some people continue to live there and some of us just like to have memories. Recently, I ended up chatting with a new friend and we got to reminiscing and that had me thinking about houses.

Of course, this calls for a song.

We lived previously in Sutton West which is bizarre in itself since it’s actually east of Sutton. I have no memories of this but I do from where my parents moved. Long-time readers might remember this post.

We actually lived in three houses there during the course of my lifetime. The first was in a very small bungalow and my memory from there was a heater in the middle of the house. The further you got away from it, the cooler things got.

When my brother came along, we had to move. Move we did, up the street to a large two-storey house. My biggest memory there was the upstairs where we actually had two staircases to the top storey which meant a lot of awkward vacuuming and dusting. I wasn’t allowed to walk to school since I would have had to cross two major highways. So, for something like a quarter a week, we got a ride with the school caretaker. His car was full so it probably was a moneymaker for him at the time.

Eventually, we moved a great deal closer to the school and I ended up getting a “get out of school 10 minutes early” card as a crossing guard. It was a small house with a huge lot. My biggest memory there was moving from a shared bedroom with my brother and bunk beds to two rooms in the attic. He had to walk through my room to get to his and that led to a lot of brotherly altercations.

With the passing of our parents, the house has been sold a couple of times with each new owner doing upgrades.

We still drive home twice a year to visit the cemetery and always take a drive by the places where we lived, wondering how we’d be received if we got out and knocked and asked for a tour. We haven’t had the nerve yet.

That calls for another song as it was truly the house that built me.

For a Sunday, what are your thoughts?

  • Do you still live in your childhood community?
  • Do you still live in your childhood home?
  • What has happened to the home over the years?
  • Was it an easy walk to get to school from your place?
  • Did your childhood house “build you”?
  • Have you ever gone back to drive by your old house?
  • Have you ever gone back and asked for a tour of your old house?

I’ll bet that you have some interesting thoughts about this. How about sharing them in the comments below?

This is a regular Sunday morning post around here. You can view all the previous posts here.

7 thoughts on “Whatever happened to …

  1. Doug, I don’t know what happened to my childhood houses. We actually moved to a few different ones when I was growing up, including an apartment building and a condo in Toronto. But these songs you included in here are two of my favourites, so now I’ll be singing in my head all morning long. Maybe this will help with writing Communications of Learning. 🙂 Happy Sunday!


    Liked by 2 people

  2. Good morning Doug! Hi Aviva!

    Thanks for this post. I worked my way through your questions in my head, and it made for a nice Sunday morning reflection.

    Liked by 1 person

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  5. Meant to comment earlier 😀
    I will work through your questions now…
    As for your first two: No and no.
    My first home in northern MB (0-2) is gone. My “growing up” home in NW Ont. still stands.
    Yes, it was an easy walking distance to elementary school. I had a bus option for high school, but could still walk on a nice day.
    Every time I visit the small city of my “growing up” home, my family and I drive by. Well, circle around, as it is on a dead end street.
    I have been reflecting quite a bit on your question about a house “building me”. I still tear up to that Lambert song. I am that little girl with the guitar. Just not as successful haha

    About 5 years ago, I went to visit a very close childhood friend who had bought a newly built house beside my “growing up” home (where the dead end ended). As we were saying our good-byes, the man who bought the house from my parents came outside. My friend introduced us and revealed who I was. I asked if I could walk in the back yard and check out the wooded area behind it. My husband and daughters were with me too. We roamed a bit and then as we returned to the front yard to leave, he said we could look in the house too. I didn’t expect that at all and I felt imposing, but he was very good about it. Maybe it was the unexpected tour that I was now suddenly on, but I fought tears the whole time. I still don’t know why I felt so emotional. I was so happy that my girls got to go into my childhood home. Those mixed emotions…
    As for the house “building me”, hmmm… I am sure that the values of my parents and the community I grew up in “built me”, but then my parents chose that house and that community and it is all very connected, I suppose. It continues to make me reflect and remember.
    Thanks for the invite to share my sappy story!

    Liked by 1 person

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