A Muted, But Real, Sadness, tponetom

[tponetom]

A Muted, But Real, Sadness.
I received an E-mail, recently, from my cousin in Detroit. He told us our old homestead had been demolished some time ago. 5012 McClellan is now just a vacant lot number. Many of the houses in that neighborhood have been long gone. Too bad!
However, when it is your home that has disappeared, it becomes a silent, yet tumultuous, event. The past erupts in the form of a million vibrant memories.
Third house from the corner. East side of McClellan and North of E. Warren.
Sadness is an emotion we all have. We try to keep it in the cellar of our brain, parked in a dark corner, hidden out of sight and mood. We spar with it occasionally when we are confronted with minor problems or situations that we try to avoid. We usually overcome them and return the sorrow to its proper niche. But there are times when sadness will not be deterred. It bulls its way to the front and center stage of our brain. That would be directly behind our forehead.
Any anatomy student knows that area, more familiarly, as the Mechanical Room where there are all kinds of contrivances that helps us stay on a level tack. There is a reservoir of salty dew, just waiting to be dribbled out, a few drops at a time. There are pumps, and valves and levers that have to be opened with our emotions. The closest draining canal leads to our eyeballs,,,,where the tears may simply ooze out, one or two at a time. But there are times when the floodgates open, and we let them flow with no attempt to curb them.
When the reservoir runs dry, sadness retreats.
The demolition of the house does not inspire a gusher of tears. But with the diminishment of the memories and the history of that house, everything will fade away.
But isn’t that what life is all about? What goes around, comes around. Some day, someone will build a home in that vacant area, and maybe a pyramid of new memories will begin.
I am reminded of that incredible final scene in the movie, "Citizen Kane." Who, What, Why, is "Rosebud."
I can see myself at the age of 10, running down the sidewalk, raising my brand new, "Western Flyer Sled" like a banner, throwing it, violently on the snow covered sidewalk, and then belly flopping on top of it, with all the panache I could muster. [[Maybe Orson Welles stole that idea from me.)
Life does not get better than that. and so I cling, tenaciously, to those memories.

[Ray1936]

Well, looking at what is on view from Google Maps, Street View, and looking up/down McClellan from E. Warren, the neighborhood doesn't look too bad to me.

Top one is looking north, bottom one looking south.

[eriedearie]

Okay Tp - my eyeballs are leaking at the sweet memory of my childhood home - it too is long gone. Great story. Keep 'em coming.

I hope you and Peggy are well.

[Maof]

Well, looking at what is on view from Google Maps, Street View, and looking up/down McClellan from E. Warren, the neighborhood doesn't look too bad to me.

Top one is looking north, bottom one looking south.

You are righty Ray, the neighborhood really isn't that bad. I got married at Nativity of Our Lord 16 years ago and just drove down there about a month or so ago. Very well kept area.

I do feel for you T as my childhood home is no longer as of about 3 years ago. Many great photos and memories to hold on to. I just wish I had that stained glass window that in a coat closet but was seen from the front porch

[Linda from Detroit]

My first home on Virginia Park is long gone too. I understand how you feel. It is like losing a very special part of ourselves. I'm just glad my second home is still standing and hopefully the people who just bought it will at least take some care of it.

[Ray1936]

What address on Virginia Park, Linda? Pop lived at 1301 Virginia Park in the 20s and I have some great old photos of that street from 1927 - 29. Let me know if that's close; I'll post 'em if so.

[detmich]

A Muted, But Real, Sadness.
I received an E-mail, recently, from my cousin in Detroit. He told us our old homestead had been demolished some time ago. 5012 McClellan is now just a vacant lot number. Many of the houses in that neighborhood have been long gone. Too bad!
However, when it is your home that has disappeared, it becomes a silent, yet tumultuous, event. The past erupts in the form of a million vibrant memories.
Third house from the corner. East side of McClellan and North of E. Warren.
Sadness is an emotion we all have. We try to keep it in the cellar of our brain, parked in a dark corner, hidden out of sight and mood. We spar with it occasionally when we are confronted with minor problems or situations that we try to avoid. We usually overcome them and return the sorrow to its proper niche. But there are times when sadness will not be deterred. It bulls its way to the front and center stage of our brain. That would be directly behind our forehead.
Any anatomy student knows that area, more familiarly, as the Mechanical Room where there are all kinds of contrivances that helps us stay on a level tack. There is a reservoir of salty dew, just waiting to be dribbled out, a few drops at a time. There are pumps, and valves and levers that have to be opened with our emotions. The closest draining canal leads to our eyeballs,,,,where the tears may simply ooze out, one or two at a time. But there are times when the floodgates open, and we let them flow with no attempt to curb them.
When the reservoir runs dry, sadness retreats.
The demolition of the house does not inspire a gusher of tears. But with the diminishment of the memories and the history of that house, everything will fade away.
But isn’t that what life is all about? What goes around, comes around. Some day, someone will build a home in that vacant area, and maybe a pyramid of new memories will begin.
I am reminded of that incredible final scene in the movie, "Citizen Kane." Who, What, Why, is "Rosebud."
I can see myself at the age of 10, running down the sidewalk, raising my brand new, "Western Flyer Sled" like a banner, throwing it, violently on the snow covered sidewalk, and then belly flopping on top of it, with all the panache I could muster. [[Maybe Orson Welles stole that idea from me.)
Life does not get better than that. and so I cling, tenaciously, to those memories.

I think it does.

[Bobl]

tponetom:
You've done it again.
I know the sadness that you described, but lack the ability to compose the lyrical descriptions that you submit here.
Find myself looking for your posts, daily!

Below is my entry from another thread, about the remains of a once happy home on the East Side:

Went back to the vacant lot today. Garage slab and the dilapidated swing that was used by generations of young ones remains amid the trash, tires, and broken dreams.
It amazes me that the scrappers have not removed the steel swing frame, and that the lilac bushes still stand guard next to where the porch was.

Many members of this forum have experienced this. Your post describes the feeling, to a t!

[Maxine1958]

I share your sentiment tponetom.

Just months after loosing my mother back in 1997, they completely leveled the block where my parents drug store once stood. Stopped me dead in my tracks when I first saw it. Had to circle the block and a few of the surrounding ones just to be able to wrap my mind around the devastation. It was like a huge part of my life and history was suddenly erased from the earth.

Oh drat, those darned leaky salt water valves are working overtime.

[Ray1936]

Interestingly, two years ago I happened to be driving through Grand Rapids on my way between Chicago and Traverse City. I brought along the address of a house I lived in as a very small child c. 1938. It was with delight that I not only found the house in wonderful condition, but the entire neighborhood bright and pleasant.

A tale of two cities, I suppose.........

[eriedearie]

Tp, you know I read your posts as soon as I see them. I reread them as well. I don't know if it's the gray, gloomy sky, or the fact that I forgot to take my morning medication, but rereading this today has put a knot in my throat.

When I think of my childhood home, I remember my friend Phyllis at one end of the street and me at the other. At the age of 11 or 12 we decided to play "chicken"...so we rode toward one another in a straight line in the middle of the street. The first one to swerve was "the chicken" - there was no way it was gonna be me! The closer we got to one another, the more determined I became. I stayed the course and kept peddling in that straight line right down the middle of Ruth Street. Unfortunately, Phyllis did the same as me. Oh, the crash that occurred!

I still have the scar on my right knee that proves that I am no "chicken" - I bet Phyllis still has hers too.

Memories!

[Ray1936]

Erie, sweetheart, I always suspected you had a wild streak in you, and that last post just proved it to me......

[Linda from Detroit]

What address on Virginia Park, Linda? Pop lived at 1301 Virginia Park in the 20s and I have some great old photos of that street from 1927 - 29. Let me know if that's close; I'll post 'em if so.

We were at 4080 Virginia Park during the 40's till the mid 50's. Thanks so much!

[detmich]

Get on with it, all of you.

[Ray1936]

You were pretty far away from 1301 Virginia Park, Linda. The family home was on the corner of Merrill, not far from the Lodge Freeway today. It's still there, and that cement flower pot is still on the ledge today. [[That's my late aunt in the photo; loved her dearly.) c. 1927

[gibran]

Pulling up to the house that was my home for 18 years; on Wayburn after buring ny dear father I didn't realize how small of home that was so large in my life..the lessons learned from neighbors and relatives that crossed into it ...was bigger than any other building I have ever lived in since. I looked at the yard that was still kept up but not quite the same my dad's handiwork but nice never the less and saw the footprints of a new family running the same paths to the porch that I did. The metal dog on the front screen door was still intact...but most importantly ...the basketball goal that my dad hung from the garage was still hanging as a testimony to his love for me...years passed but there was a family ..that didn't look like mine but just as much at home as ours on that small littlehome and building their memories and hopefully loving each of their children likemy parents did for me and my sister...Life does bring change..ten years later I pulled up to a hud sign...hopefully someone bought it and cleaned it up and carried on the two families traditons that were started in the little house on wayburn...

[tponetom]

gibran;
Our mansion on McClellan had 768 square feet plus an uninsulated attic that served as a dormitory.
Ma and Dad, two older sisters, two younger sisters, one younger brother and myself lived fthe Life of Riley, with untold riches heaped upon us by family, friends, neighbors, and our teachers.