This is the house I grew up in: Norwalk CT. We moved from a rental house in the same town, to this one in 1958 and it was occupied by my family until 1993 when my folks moved here to Denver. Amanda took this photo today, so it is nice to see that the house is well taken care of and no changes are visible, and it is also nice to see that she is as sentimental about such things as I am. Not quite sure what she was doing in Norwalk, but I am sure I will hear the details soon.
My room was the upstairs room on the right. There was an alcove in front where I had a desk and an old fashioned kidney shaped dressing table with a three fold mirror on it, and a lavender gingham skirt. From there, it opened up to a huge space where I had 2 twin beds also in lavender gingham, a dresser and tons of bookcases. The ceiling was slanted in the front and back of the room but it was a large room by most standards. My closet was only about 3 foot wide and I honestly don't know how I lived with so little space in it. No matter, because most of my clothes were piled up on the spare bed in my room most of the time.. Truth be told, I still pile stuff, but don't tell anyone. There was only one bathroom upstairs which the 4 of us shared with very few problems. My parents were in the other upstairs bedroom while my brother resided in the main floor bedroom.
The driveway was very long as you can see, and it opened up double wide at the bottom where the garage is. It was hell to shovel and finally, Mom and Dad hired a plow which provided the space and mounds for the most elaborate snow caves/forts one can only imagine. One thing about such a long driveway... I really learned how to back up once I was driving. My skills may be rusty now, but I was a helluva backer upper in those days.
See the basketball hoop on the garage?? We had the only one in the neighborhood at the time and my adolescence was spent playing HORSE with all the boys in the neighborhood: Eddie, Bobby, Bruce, Charlie, Bradley, Hughie and anyone one else who drifted over. It is not there now, but there used to be a split rail fence along the left side of the driveway, and from there I would hold court with all my friends. Needless to say, being one of the only girls in the neighborhood had its perks. I even let my brother Steve play.....sometimes.
The wide hedge in front of the house near the street was a real chore to trim but it did afford some privacy at the house. The tree on the far right of the photo behind the hedge, was a split birch with the lovliest bark. Raking the leaves, both in front and in back, was a chore that I remember well. Those huge oaks really let go after providing their foliage show each fall. And, in the early years, before all the rules changed, we would burn tremendous piles of leaves in front of the hedge near the street. The whole neighborhood would have this wonderful smoky fragrance that would last for days. I wish I could see the rose bushes that my Dad planted, because they were his pride and joy: Peace and Tropicana are the two I can think of, off hand.
Thanks, Amanda, for the memories. You and Alison also have memories of visiting Grandma and Grandpa in this house: barbeques in the back yard, catching fireflies (which we don't have in CO), picking tomatoes from Grandpa's garden and meeting the grandkids of our neighbors.
I guess it takes only a grey dreary rainy day, and one photograph to bring it all back.