Flippy - I Rant, You Read
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
My Childhood Home Goes Up For Sale
I thought I’d be okay with my parents selling the house. In fact, I encouraged them to sell it because it’s silly for them to have to drive back and forth between S. California and Vegas every few weeks. My dad sent me an email tonight telling me that they put the house up for sale. It’s made me a tad weepy. My parents bought the house for maybe 30k before I was born, so I spent my whole childhood there. I went to all the same schools as my brothers. I’d always thought that some day I could buy the house because it’s such a great house. I’ll post pictures as soon as I get some from my parents. It’s funny though, I couldn’t even afford the house if I wanted to buy it. It’s now worth something crazy like 600 or 700k, because of the real estate market there.
I’ve picked out the things I want from the house (again, pictures of those later) - no, not any of the big furniture or anything. I want Mr. Smooth. He’s a cheesy wooden knight that my dad painted silver and turned into a lamp. When I was maybe three, I named him Mr. Smooth. My brothers agreed that I could have him. Who knows where he’ll go, but I want him. Also, I want the little plastic yellow cinnamon sugar bear. He’s probably all grubby from 40 years of use, but I don’t care. He always dispensed the perfect cinnamon/sugar combo.
I guess I don’t like change much. I don’t mind *me* moving around - I moved out of my parents house to live in their apartment building. Heh, baby steps. I lived there for about five years, then I moved to Vegas for a year. Then, I met a girlie and moved to Pacifica, which is a few miles south of San Francisco. I loved Pacifica, but we had a psycho landlord and our oceanfront place was moldy and gross. We moved to San Francisco for three years or so. San Francisco is an awesome place to live. Then, with Leigh-Ann, I moved back to Vegas where most of my family is...and where we could afford a house. San Francisco was out of the question, what with the Noe Valley neighborhood (where we lived) average little house going for more than a million bucks.
I just thought the house would always be there. Logically, I knew it wouldn’t. I’ve been telling my parents to sell for years, so they could settle in Las Vegas permanently. I didn’t expect to feel so strongly about the house going up for sale. I haven’t even been back home for a while, but it doesn’t really matter—that’s where most of my perfect happy childhood memories are. Where I threw books down the hall when I was mad at David. Where I learned to play baseball and football in the streets with my brothers and the nextdoor neighbors’ five boys. Where my cousin put the smoke bomb in the Jantzen’s driveway and Mr. Jantzen ran after him down the street, threatening him with his wife’s slipper, accusing him of trying to blow up their house. That troublemaker became a Yale/Harvard educated cardiologist. I still picture him as a kid, running down our street, being chased by a slipper wielding old man.
I need to go to bed. I’ll have more stories tomorrow. I’ll go to bed weepy tonight… Crap, and I never cry.
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