One of the worst things for me when my parents were divorced is our family home was sold. The memories are important, and not being able to visit the place where they all happened is sad.
Congratulations on your dream house, OSC. Posts: 4393 | Registered: Aug 2003
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Most of our family memories are spread across several states and cities. My parents built their dream house back in 1990 when I was 20 and only lived there for two years while I was in school before permanently moving out. I've moved three times since then. As a result I've never really felt rooted to any one place. I really can't imagine what it's like to have a dream house or dream home. The wired thing is now I have a strong desire to get rooted but at the same time I'm too restless to want to stay in one location for long.
My mom tells me that once I get married I will no longer be restless. Oh, mom!
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I liked it also. I really really hated it, but I will have a soft spot for that cinderbrick monstrosity that we brought our 3 oldest children home to when they were babies.
Posts: 11017 | Registered: Apr 2003
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And here I was feeling really transient because we've only lived in our present house for fifteen years. I compare that to the way it was for some families only a couple of generations ago - a house would be passed down from parents to children, never sold - sometimes three, four, or more generations living in that same house, so thick with history and memories (and attic-crowded with memorabilia!) that it was like everybody was still alive there!
Of course, only a tiny minority of families could ever afford that kind of house, so it was never the normal way of life ... except on the family farm, back when those existed <sigh>. Not that I'd ever want to live a farmer's LIFE - they actually WORK for a living, and it never stops.
But even the people I've known who lived in that kind of house have chosen to sell the land to developers and move on. We just don't have that kind of feeling about houses anymore ... or, rather, as this thread shows, we have that kind of YEARNING - but few of us indeed are ever able to hold onto those roots.
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I expect to never live in a dream house, just as I expect to never drive a dream car. They are a low enough priority that I can't imagine ever being wealthy enough for that much money to trickle down that far.
Posts: 16551 | Registered: Feb 2003
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My parents just sold the house I grew up in and moved into a bigger, nicer, more conveniently located house closer into town.
It's great, but when I go there I'm not home. I miss that anchor -- the centeredness of being able to sleep in the room you've slept more nights than anywhere else. Where all the sights and sounds are familiar and comforting.
Of course, I'm also at the age where I have to put childish things to rest, so I guess it was inevitable.
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Yeah, when people used to live in a house, they'd be tied there, their grandparents killed Indians to get it, their parents were born and died in there, their whole family lived there, worked their, living in a symbiotic relationship with the land around them, now it's all big heartless machines. A tractor doesn't love the land, how can it, the driver does his work, gets his three dollars a day, then goes home. It's just cold dead machinery and the bank monster, robbing the people of their heritage. [/literary reference]
That column was incredibly touching. My parents lived in the same house for more than a decade, then there was a messy divorce, with the house changing hands more than once before they both ripped up their roots and ran. In all honesty there are more bad memories than good ones, but it still hurts to lose everything that I ever called home.
Posts: 959 | Registered: Oct 2005
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got that same feeling also, the house that i grew up in was an old farm house that was dated to be about 200 years old, just this past july it burnt down, i dont live with my parents anymore but they are rebuilding the house, they lost pretty much everything, i was lucky to get the things out that i did. but now the house looks totally different but the memories remain
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That was an utterly beautiful story.
