Saturday, February 09, 2008

Out with the Old

Toby took Friday off, and we went to WF to see Mom. Before Mom left for Scotland a few weeks ago, she made an offer on a little house closer to my brother’s house in WF. She was supposed to close on the new house yesterday.

She has lived in the same house for 31 years, so this was no easy decision. If you count up the years, you will know that I did not grow up in this house. In fact, the family joke is that Mom and Dad sent my brother and I off to college, and then they moved hoping we would not find them. When we came home at Thanksgiving, they had a new house. After 31 years, though, it is the family home, the place my kids think of as Grandma’s house, and it is quite comfy. Mom’s old house is in an old neighborhood with big trees and cobble streets. It is pretty neat, but the neighborhood has gone down. It is not something we really notice, but if you notice the tall fence with barbed-wire on the top around my parent’s backyard or if you read about the big drug bust across the street from Mom’s house a couple of years back, you might also worry about her. Every once in a while, the news reports a drive-by shooting somewhere in the vicinity. This has been worry-some for a long time. When Dad died, we all encouraged Mom to find a new place. Sometimes, she seemed so settled and happy in that house, that I could almost overlook the neighborhood. Last summer she saw a little house that she really liked, and it pushed her in the direction of putting her house on the market and looking for a new house. Now she has found one. She signed the papers yesterday. The celebration was a bit small since she seemed to have some sort of flu bug. We will just have to celebrate later.

My brother, Pete, was also at Mom’s yesterday. He is the pesky little brother. Normally, when we get together, we take turns torturing Mom – doing our best Heckle & Jeckle routine. We were a bit more subdued since Mom was not at her best. It takes all the fun out of teasing her when she does not respond.

In the next few weeks, I can see that we will be working to get Mom moved into her new house and get the old house cleaned out. It will be out with the old and into the new. We will have a heck of a garage sale. Toby and I worked in Mom’s storehouse yesterday going through Dad’s junk, taking what we wanted and setting stuff aside for the sale. I know I married the right man. There were so many times that Toby was as moved as I was finding things of Dad’s that reminded us of special times. Toby would hold up some piece of worthless junk and say, "I have to keep this. I remember your dad …" When we came across Dad's old Converse tennis shoes, Toby said that Dad had loaned them to him on several occasions when Toby had forgotten his own tennis shoes. Unfortunately, the rubber on the toes was hard and cracking. I’m glad that Toby and my dad loved each other and had good times together. I want a husband like that for Jesse someday – someone who will fit into the family, who will work side by side with us, who will take a snort of Wild Turkey even though it is not his favorite, who will laugh with us, and who will be strong enough to make a family of his own with my daughter. Someone who can say this is my family and we will serve the Lord.

Last night Toby and I went to "An Evening of Shorts" which was several small one act plays put on by the Duncan Little Theater. Lindsay was suppose to play a part, but she had gotten sick, and her sister Reagan had taken Lindsay's role. Reagan was excellent. I laughed until my jaws hurt. It was such a funny little skit. I will have to find photos and post them soon. The last skit was audience participation. Five men from the audience were chosen to read a skit on stage. They put on wigs, hats and women's accesories. It was hysterical. Toby was one of the men chosen as was Lindsay's dad and Shay, Linday's boy friend. They were suppose to be a church committee - funny stuff. Once again, I will post photos when I can.

5 comments:

Buck said...

Wow. 31 years is a long, long time to be in a house. I think all of you may be in for both the best and worst of times when moving day comes.

Still and even, your Mom has made her decision. One just has to believe there was quite a lot of soul-searching involved there. I'm sure you, Lou (along with the rest of the family), will rest easier knowing she's living in a better neighborhood.

Bag Blog said...

Buck, I'll keep you informed on the move - it could prove interesting. It is funny because growing up, we never lived in any one house more than 5 years. Toby and I kind of follow that pattern.

Jo Castillo said...

Sounds like a big change. Wow. I liked your little watercolor, too.

Kris, in New England said...

I agree with Buck - this will be a best/worst of times situation as you get closer to moving your mom. My parents sold the house I grew up in after living there for 25 years. They then lived in the next house together for 9 years, until my dad died. Then my mom stayed there for another 9+ years, until she retired and moved to Maine. Moving them out of my childhood home wasn't that bad - I still had both of them, ya know? Moving my mom out of her house was very hard for all of us - cleaning out, throwing out was so damn hard. In the end, I now have a garage full of crap that I can't bear to part with, yet have no intention of ever using - all if it things that were my dads or are tied up with childhood memories. I've gotten to the point - 4 years after my mom moved to Maine - where I need to start letting go and clearing out. Which will be another best/worst of times scenario.

Oh, and sorry about being MIA for lately. As I mentioned at Buck's place, my employer has blocked all BlogSpot sites and my after-work availability has been very limited lately. I'm hoping that will pass, soon.

Bag Blog said...

Kris, I expect there will be some weepy moments in the move, but now is a good time. Sorry about your blogging being banned at work. I hope you find time away from work without blogging taking over your home time. It is a delicate balance.