A Multi-state Parade of Homes

My friend Mary Beth and I used to always attend the San Antonio Parade of Homes.  It was our evening together to look at beautiful, well-designed, award-winning houses.  We were the perfect pair, because she looked at the design elements and I focused on the plan and structure.  Hours were spent comparing observations and dreaming "what ifs"....

This vacation allowed me to visit several homes in different states, and while none of them were for sale, I was so happy to once again be in the position of viewing these various homes  - each and every one loved in its own way -

Our first stop was at the home of some long-ago friends from our college years.  They'd planned on our staying with them, and then found themselves in an emergency reno situation.  We met them at their home, and were given the tour before having dinner out.  Their home was beautifully done (she's had a career as an interior designer), and looked like a showplace.  Each and every room was perfect, like you'd see at a model home; but what I noticed as I walked through each room was that there was nothing of THEM in the house.  Each room had one family picture artfully displayed, and his "man cave" had all the things he loved, but I came away with a somewhat sad feeling.  Expensive, yes; beautiful, yes; warm and loving - not so much. 

Along the way, we visited The Hermitage; the plantation home of President Andrew Jackson and his beloved Rachel.  Amazing to see things they used during Civil War/slave days.  The needs of the family were paramount, as were the needs of a President as far as entertaining lots of friends and political allies. To think that Sam Houston stayed there, as well as other people I'd heard of, was inspiring and humbling.  The men who walked us through the house were alive with stories and details, and you could tell that they felt very responsible to tell the story right.  The grandeur and scale of the rooms was impressive, and yet you could feel the love that lived in those walls.   Wallpapers brought over from France in the 1800s looked as pristine as it had when it was hung, and those tiny, high beds covered in mosquito netting captured my mind.  As we walked away from the mansion, I was a little sad to learn that it had almost been lost in the years following Jackson's death; and so glad to know that generations following have enjoyed and appreciated its story.

While in Painesville, Ohio, we visited the homes of some of Andy's relatives.  A current "relative" by marriage owns one of the homes, which sits next door to the other.  Andy and I were last there in 1977, while the Aunts were still living.  The rooms are huge, and the windows massive.  We were not able to go inside either one, but the joy of watching Andy relive his times there with his family made up for it.  Lots of pictures were taken, and we shared those with my father-in-law when we stopped by.  He was glad we'd gone, and again we heard stories.  The neighborhood has deteriorated with the years, and the exterior colors changed, but the houses remain strong.  We are looking forward to receiving a history of the houses that the current owner has put together to learn more about their pasts.

But my favorite home along the way was our friends, the Connell's, home.  Driving up to it, you felt like you'd gone back into "Leave It To Beaver" times.  We knew which one to look for, because Steve has a perpetual Texas flag hanging on the house!  Tree-lined streets and sloping yards welcomed us in.
The home is love - what more can I say?!?  Every inch of it is theirs; from the oodles and oodles of family pictures and grandkid books and toys, oil paintings done by his late mother Mildred, and Steve's ever-present music playing in the background.  On the porch outside, a swing sways softly overlooking the sloping yard and chain link fence, where they told of us each neighbor and the stories of the park across the street behind them and the Buckeye tree waits to turn vibrate Fall colors. One of the most telling things to me about the love in this house was hanging above each bedroom door.  Once their children were grown up, they became foster parents.  In several places along the walls were escape maps, and the items above the doors were motion detectors.  You see, sometimes Foster children take off in the night, and once they were in bed, the alarms were set to protect them from leaving without our friends' knowledge.  I stood there in wonder at the steps and measures this couple took to provide safely and stability in the lives of young people who'd never known in in their own families.  We felt at home immediately, and really hated leaving when our time with them was up -

So that is my own personal Parade of Homes.  Each one left me with a definite perception and memory.  It makes me wonder about my own home - what do people take with  them when they leave?  How long will it stand, and how many generations of families will live in it?  Will it be a home that my children and grandchildren revisit in their adulthoods to recapture fond memories? All I  can say it, I was truly happy to see it standing here, where I'd left it all those days ago!!