As I was loading photos on my Ipod and digital photo frame, I came across some old photos I had scanned. Among them was a picture of the house I grew up in. Andy looked at it and remarked that it was a plain little house.
I had just been staring at it and remembering a magical place. I still drive by when I am in the Detroit area and wish I could go inside just one more time. I looked at that house and realized that in comparison to where Andy has grown up, it may seem like a plain, little house.
Andy doesn't know about the "finished" basement that my dad was so proud of building. It even had wallpaper with martini glasses (with olives) and musical notes, a big mural of a scene from "up north" and a bar that my father and friends loved to congregate around. After a few beers, they would call me down to play the piano and I would sit at the huge, old upright piano and play for hours, while they sang along.
Andy wouldn't understand how much fun it was to hide under the stairs and listen, while my older brother talked to his girlfriend on the phone. The phone was built into the wall, as a sign of my dad's handiwork, long before cordless phones. So if you wanted privacy for a call, you sat on the stairs.
Everyone had a place in that basement. There was Dad's workshop and I'll bet it still smells like typewriter grease and cleaner. Ed had his short wave/CB radio spot, which had postcards all over the walls with his buddy's call letters on them. It was fun to hide away and listen to that too. Eventually, Dave had his big train set in the main room, where he could spend hours on end in fantasy.
Mom got the laundry room and I can still picture her sitting at a huge machine, called a mangle, which was like an industrial iron. She would sit there for hours ironing bed SHEETS,shirts and underwear!
My favorite spot was a little cubby behind the furnace. It belonged to ME. I decorated by drawing on the walls, adding wallpaper scraps. I played with my dolls there and it was my own world. My brothers had no interest in coming into that world. When the dog had puppies, my mother would put them in my spot and I spent hours on end watching puppies grow.
At the top of the stairs was what my Mom called the "half bath" and it wasn't as big as a closet. Under the sink, there was always a case of Towne Club Pop, which is a poor man's Faygo. Once a week, she would go to the Towne Club store and I could pick out 24 flavors. We didn't pay the extra for Coke or Pepsi and I don't remember caring a bit.
There were no video games in that basement, no TV set and I wouldn't see a computer for 20 years. I did have a portable record player that I could bring down from my room, but usually played the piano instead.
So as I loaded those photos today, I thought back to the day of NO technology. My kids are walking around texting their friends, with ipods in their ears unless they are playing computer games or Nintendo Wii. What did I do with myself without all that stuff?
If it was not snowing, I rode my bike for hours on end. Every night after dinner, I would go pick up my friend Pat Green and wait while she finished washing dishes, so we could ride our bikes until "the street lights came on". We both had to be home within 5 minutes of that signal.
I played Army in the woods with the Simmons boys and built forts in the trees. One summer, I built a fort, by myself, behind the garage. I scavaged the neighborhood for every scrap of wood I could find and then spent most of then summer in my fort.
Many summer nights we just sat on the lawn and listened to my Dad tell us stories. He taught us to play Mumbly Peg, Red Rover, Kick the Can and how to box. When winter came, we played outside until we were frozen and then he taught us to play Pinochle and Black Jack. On the weekends, he taught me to repair cars and do body work. We just set up a heater in the garage. He kept me busy.
Pat and I went from playing dolls to sitting in that basement listening to the Beatles and finally to high school parties WITHOUT alcohol. We thought it was great because my parents ordered pizza.
I miss that house and all it's memories and I don't remember ever having a boring minute.
