I loved this post by Rene Fabre. It reminded me of my own childhood. I know there are more people out there having the similar experiences . This re-blog is for them.
We moved from the Renton Highlands to the Earlington neighborhood in 1958. Grandma and Grandpa moved that same year. Grandma just couldn’t bear to leave the neighborhood where she was surrounded by relatives and friends of so many years. Grandpa acquiesced, and they moved across the street. The high school was expanding their campus and building a tennis court. George and Pauline had to go.
(circa 1958) Outside Grandma's House on Tobin Ave...
Grandma Pauline, Uncle Georgie, Grandpa George, my Dad
Steve, me, Terry...
Of course as an 8 year old I was oblivious to what was going on with them. We were moving from the projects. The Highlands then was mostly tiny homes built to house people who came here to work for Boeing to build airplanes for the WWII effort.
After living in cramped quarters, Mom was in heaven about our move to a 3 bedroom home with a living room, dining room, den, and full basement, complete with woods across the street. Earlington was a wonderful sleepy little neighborhood then, just a few blocks from town. It had a rural flavor much like a scene from the movie American Graffiti.
(circa 1962) Our home in Earlington.
We were a mile from Grandma’s house. Many is the day we commuted between homes riding our bikes or walking.
(circa 1965) Most often this is where you'd find Grandma Pauline.
It always smelled absolutely amazingly amazing. Grandma was always making something and she was one of the best cooks and bakers I have ever encountered in my life, even to this day. We hardly ever bought vegetables at the store. Grandpa always sent us home with a bag full of lettuce, corn, onions, peas, beans, berries, rhubarb, potatoes, parsley, chives, all fresh from the garden. He'd smile, "this is for your mom."
I drive down Tobin Ave on occasion just to see how the old place is doing. Our family sold it back in the late 90's. A few weeks ago I went by and discovered it was for sale. I looked it up online and was totally blown away. The owner poured a lot of love into that place.
They moved walls, finished the basement, built a dormer and added 2 bedrooms upstairs, created 2 more bathrooms, re-did the kitchen, added hardwood floors, and updated absolutely everything… It’s so totally tricked out it’s almost beyond my imagination. I couldn’t believe the pictures.
I’ll always have such fond memories of that home and the good times we had at Grandma’s House. I love the fact that someone was so inspired to contribute to it the way they did. I’m reminded of good Karma. Perhaps a home with a lot of love well lived in continues to inspire. I also wonder if after all that remodeling, "Is there still a root cellar under the back porch?" I need to stop by and say hello.
I say Grandma’s House because that’s the way as a kid we cut to the chase.
“Where you going?” … "I’m going to Grandma’s House."
I'm thinking all of those wonderful meals and home baked apple and berry pies, cakes, bread, and pastries may have had a little something to do with that very honored distinction.
We were blessed...
Disclaimer: I am not promoting anyone connected with the sale of this home. I'm simply a small town boy sharing a few memories of my Grandma's House and days gone by. I do think however the new owner will enjoy a wonderful place and just maybe, they'll pick up on the good Karma left behind by the wonderful people who lived there once upon a time...
The pictures I found online are here.
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