Growing up, things always have a different perspective – the simplest example being that we are short and everyone looks very tall. I grew up in Otsego, Michigan, a small town of under 5000 people and about 160+ in my high school graduating class. While my home was not spectacular and I am sure I compared it to a few of the upper middle class kids I knew, it was cozy, my parents cared and our basic needs were met.
My parents just celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary and still live in the home where I grew up. They bought it for a few thousand dollars before I was born. We had one bathroom for five people and my sister and I shared a room upstairs. We walked through my brother’s room to get to ours and the only closet was in his bedroom. For the most part we were happy. My mom bought us girls a “Betty Crocker Cookbook for kids” and each Saturday (when we were old enough), we would plan the menu and cook a meal. One of my favorites was the candle salad – a ring of pineapple, half a banana stuck in the middle with a toothpick holding a cherry on top.
Now that I am a Realtor in Oakland County Michigan, I have often looked at their home with a critical eye. I have often thought—what would I say to a buyer if they were considering this home? I stay in my old room and think—you can’t call this a bedroom without a closet. At the same time, I can see my sister here and our spats about whether we should have the fan going out (sucking the hot air) or coming in (bringing the cool). I sometimes sit on the window seat and look out at the night remembering how it was: hide & seek in the yard; staying overnight with my girlfriend across the street; not sleeping and looking at our home wishing I were there—lights on and my dad watching TV; or making a house of leaves with a blanket for a bed and entering make believe doors; the ice skating rink my father tried to make in our front yard – always bumpy but made with love just the same; filling the trailer with our camping gear for our yearly vacations in Pentwater.
My sister has since passed away and I think of all the times we went to sleep in the same room; our squabbles about her wearing my clothes; dividing the room in half and not letting each other cross over; accusing her of moving the light switch when I was walking in my sleep—all the silliness of sisters. Then I remember how outgoing she was (2 years younger)—I would send her to the neighbors to sell my Girl Scout cookies as I waited on the sidewalk. I couldn’t go to our kindergarten picnic to Kalamazoo because I was recovering from an illness. My mom packed us a lunch and sent us off in our little red wagon—around and around the block we went until we felt we had arrived at Melham Park. We ate our lunch together—just the two of us. My sister was so happy to spend time with her big sister. Then I remember the time I sang to her – “Kindergarten Baby Stuck in the Gravy” because my friends were watching & someone must have sang it to me once. It was just a rite of passage.
So, when I was visiting my parents recently, I didn’t see the Michigan basement or the tape holding up some of the ceiling paper upstairs or the original cupboards in the kitchen that have been painted over and over. I walked down the stairs and saw where we hung our stockings; remembered all the Christmas Eves we didn’t sleep – the three of us conspiring who would be next to go to the bathroom, peeking at the presents and reporting back; we even had our own tiny tree that was decorated with popcorn and paper chains. Most of our home movies were of Christmas. My mom had an awful childhood and vowed to make ours so much better than hers. But she said that Christmas was the time that her family rallied together and it was her favorite memory so she made it ours. When I was in college, I was known as the Christmas fairy because I bought a 4-foot artificial tree and decorated it—the only one twinkling in the windows of the dorm.
What Makes a House a Home from Cathy Tishhouse on Vimeo.
Our family home has had walls removed; the back door is now on the side of the house; a new garage that is now attached; a new porch when a tree fell on the old one; a small finished room in what is REALLY a Michigan basement which I can’t imagine using now. As a Realtor, would I recommend anyone buy a house like this—probably not—but then I wouldn’t take away any of these cherished memories. We are all of it—the fights and the special moments—they make a house a home and make us who we are.
I recently helped a family buy a lovely lake property where they want to raise their family. It is on a nearly private lake and I asked the sellers how they could ever leave it. They said an interesting thing – it was too quiet now, their children are gone and “the home needs doors banging and children coming and going” . . . As I said earlier . . . growing up, things always have a different perspective and a home is more than a house.
If you are looking to Purchase a Home, click here for an IDX Home Search
If you are looking to Sell a Home, click here for an outline of our Marketing Strategy
Royal Oak Michigan Realtor selling Oakland County Real Estate. TishHouse sells Houses - selling Real Estate in Southeastern Michigan with RE/MAX Showcase Homes in Birmingham, Michigan. Helping People in a challenging market by specializing in Short Sales. See what my clients have to say about my extraordinary customer service. Follow me on Twitter.
Comments(11)