The End of an Era

If you've been following these posts, you may think that this headline refers to the pre-mature demise of my beloved Orange. But this "era" has far deeper roots than the 2010 NCAA basketball season. This one goes way back...



On Friday, Mom and Dad closed on the sale of our childhood home after more than 40 wonderful years in the place. I was trying to think of a fitting way to pay tribute to our home, so I took a nod from Letterman and give you here:

"The Top Ten Best Things About 5295 Old Sterrettania Road."




Number 10: We were one of the best "playgrounds" for all the neighborhood kids. Whether we were riding bikes around the circular drive, skateboarding on one of the street's only paved driveways, or swimming in the 4 foot in-ground pool out back, all the neighborhood kids liked to hang out at our house.


Number 9: Easter Egg Hunts. I don't have too many memories of egg hunts as a kid, but once the grandchildren came along, Dad made a BIG deal about Easter egg hunts at our house. All the kids are old enough now, so I can let out his secret: About a week before Easter, he'd go shopping and get each kid a half-dozen or so gifts. Then he'd fill plastic eggs with random numbers. When the kids found an egg, they'd open it, and with great fanfare, he'd say, "Number 14! That's a Katie gift!" and he'd go to the Katie pile and produce gift number 14 (which was never really assigned a number). Each kid got exactly the gifts that he had purchased for them! I don't think the kids ever figured out his scheme!

Number 8: The Katie and Joe Trees...and the kids' handprints in the new cement driveway. Funny how the grandkids had their own special impact on the place... On Earth Day in the late 1990s, we planted two pine trees to fill in "holes" that were left in the row of blue spruces when we cut down Christmas trees in prior years (see Memory #3). We named those trees the Katie tree and the Joe tree. Maybe we thought that someday they'd make good Christmas trees, but we never cut them down. Maybe they'll be there forever.

Number 7: The Music Room...a.k.a. the "big room." There was always someone in the house when Mark and I got home from school. That's because mom had 30+ piano and/or organ students who'd come for their weekly lessons. Our family room was like the waiting room, so when we'd get home from school, there was always the next student or a parent waiting while we watched TV and did homework. The house was always filled with music, whether it was Mark playing classical toccatas on the organ, mom bangin' out Christmas tunes, or dad cranking the grind organ. And the big room, in later years, made a perfect Master Bedroom suite for those geezers who got tired of climbing the stairs!

Number 6: Ah, that fireplace. I learned to love a roaring fire because of that beautiful raised hearth fireplace. And how many times did we hear the story about the bricks?! Mom and Dad went to the brickyard to find the roughest, nastiest bricks they could. But when they paid a visit the day the masons were building it, they found that the bricklayers were trying to put the "prettiest" side of the bricks facing outward! Oops. If someone points it out, you can just about see the point where the rugged side of the bricks are turned forward. Oh! and on the topic of the fireplace...why did the field mice seem to hang out there? Ah! the joys of living in the country!

Number 5: Feeding the Birds. The Fischers love their birdfeeders! And it's Dad's job to get out there and feed the birds: rain, snow, sleet and hail!

Number 4: Christmas Cookies. Mom is famous for her many varieties of delicious holiday treats, whether it's a nut roll, pecan tarts, candy cane cookies, butterballs, or whatever. But the best memories are all the years of making --and then decorating -- sugar cookies. It's a day-long process that everyone gets to participate in. And the memories of those days are some of the sweetest!

Number 3: And speaking of Christmas...The gi-normous 14-foot Christmas trees. For many years, we had real trees that touched the cathedral ceiling in the big room. My fondest memories of childhood are about those trees-- whether it was the stress of getting them into the house and put up, decorating it (grandma Fischer at the top of the ladder with the fireplace tools), playing "I spy" with some of our favorite ornaments (Popeye, the Snoopy ladder, and later the Christmas pickle), or just sitting in the warm glow of the lights and smelling the fresh real tree. Those trees made the family gatherings even more special.

Number 2: Sitting on the porch...and later, the deck. We were so fortunate that the land across the street remained an open field for all those years. It was so relaxing to sit on the front porch and (quite literally) watch the world go by while you sipped a cold Pinot Grigio. So many people who came to visit would sit there with us and shoot the breeze. And if you broke your glass, don't worry, we make you feel right at home by slamming our own glasses down on the cement! And then in recent years, we moved the party to the new back deck. Now that was luxurious--like adding at least two more rooms onto the house! Great parties, great times, great memories.

And the Number 1 memory of that house... The countless extended "family" members that passed through over the course of time. Whether it was one of the seventeen (I honestly tried to count and list them all...maybe my math is wrong) exchange students --Edwin (Holland), Angie (Germany), Juha (Finland), Monica (Italy), Carrina (Sweden), and on and on... Or it was someone who needed a place to stay because they were going through a transition, a crisis, an illness, or a time in their life when they just needed a safe, comfortable place, the Fischer's always had their door open--literally, in fact. In addition to the exchange students, there had to be more than a dozen adults who stayed at 5295. For whatever reason, that house was a source of strength and courage for so many people who needed a respite from the world--either for a few nights, a few weeks, several months, and even a couple of years in some cases. There was always warmth and safety and love in those walls.




Mom and Dad moved into a lovely ranch-style condo that will be much easier for them to enjoy and maintain now that they're getting older. It's been hard for me to deal with this major transition, being so far removed geographically. I was talking with Mark just the other day and asked him, "Are you sad about Mom and Dad selling the house?" And he -- being the big brother and all -- wisely reminded me, "Carla, the house is just a building. All the memories will be with us forever."



So, fare thee well old building. We've packed our memories and will take them to a new and better place for now.