I sold the family home this week. Not really a home for the last few years, but the place my brother and I grew up. I actually remember some of the places we lived before Evelyn persuaded John it made more sense to own than rent. I think they paid about $5,000 for the house back in the early 50’s. Probably paid $50 a month for 30 years. Evelyn had our trash guy plant a couple of little sycamore trees and they grew to 70 foot monsters before John had cut down because he got tired of “having leaves all over the yard.” Evelyn was gone by then.

50 years at 500 Walter Street boiled down to set of mis-matched golf clubs; a box of trophies (Blane’s); some really heavy high school year books; a set of 78 RPM records from the 40’s; a couple of pounds of mold and mildew; and a lifetime of memories. Everyone kept asking me if it was difficult to sell the house in which our family had lived all those years. I said no and that was more true than not. But for two days I kept hearing Peter, Paul and Mary singing The House Song.

This room here once had childish laughter
And I come back to hear it now and again
I can’t say that I’m certain what you’re after
But in this room, a part of you will remain.