The House that Built Me

This blog post is something of a different entry from me, but I wanted to capture a moment in time.   

Miranda Lambert wrote a song about “The house that built me”  that I always liked.  It told the story of going back to your childhood home and remembering its significance.    My story to tell is different, but the same in a way that I hope makes sense by the end.

I actually grew up in southern Virginia and my parents’ house is where I call home.  However my mom was from Northern Virginia in a small town called Bealeton that was about 3 hours north.   She had a sister and a brother, both of whom had sons about the same time I was born.  There were three of us cousins and we became best friends.  Likewise I have two sisters and as happenstance would have it, my uncle and aunt had kids at nearly the same time as my sisters.   There were 8 of us in total and each round of kids was roughly the same age.  We would all get together at my grandparents farmhouse in Bealeton at least twice a year, but sometimes more where each generation double or triplet band of cousins stuck together on their own adventures.     

Those memories at my grandparents farm are some of the best I have.   The farm had 2 barns which we called the "Big Barn" and "Little Barn" where we strategized battle plans against each other in “war games." or spied and pestered the younger cousins.   There was a large sawdust pile beside the "Big Barn" where we dug out large forts and saw our grandma's displeasure when we tracked sawdust shavings everywhere.   There were huge hay bales covering a field behind the big barn where 2 of use would jump across them while one of us tried to pull the jumpers off.  Granddad had horses that we would ride and tractors we would drive.   In fact granddad was adamant he would teach all of us to drive and we practiced in an old Mercedes Benz, a beat up Lincoln, or a dump truck depending on our destination on the farm.  And then there was the train tracks in front of the house.  The trains provided excitement as we put pennies on the track or watched for the red caboose at the end of each train.   At the end of a long day of playing it was the comforting noise of a train's whistle that put all of us asleep.

I cannot even begin to quantify how the experiences on that farm shaped me as a person.  However I can say that when I need to find a smile or a good memory, I often go back to a time I was on that farm.   I remember shooting nerf guns at chickens with my cousins and as we tried to figure out how to get the bullet back when it got stuck in their feathers.   I remember the various trees that we had built treehouses in and I remember eating a bowl of ice cream with granddad and the cousins every night.   Even though all the cousins only got together a few times a year, that place became a home away from home.   I can still see every room in the house, every tree and fence on the farm and every stall in every barn.   I remember the horses names, the various dogs names, and the colors of the cats always roaming.

As we grew up, my granddad sold the farm.  A quarry took over the back half of the farm with the knowledge that my grandparents would have lifetime rights to the house and front side of the farm.  As a kid this decision did not mean much to me since I still got to play just like normal.  In some ways it was even more exciting since we could see the rock quarry in the distance.  In the early days the quarry was blasting and we all got as close as we could to watch the dirt fly and feel the ground shake.   

As I grew older the reality hit me that the farm would one day disappear.   My granddad passed away and then after some years my grandma followed him.  The farm still stood although it fell into a state of disrepair.   We would still meet as a family at my uncle’s house and on those occasions I would still try to stop by to see the farm and watch the ghosts of memories.  I would see flickers of kids riding bikes from the house to the barn.  I would see 3 boys shooting basketball or the front porch swing swaying high as the same boys tried to touch the ceiling light with their feet.  I saw a three legged dog keeping pace with those boys and of course I heard my grandma screaming our name across the entirety of the farm to call us in for lunch.  I saw my granddad pass gas on while sitting on a bucket full of holes and then look up with a smile and say, “Wow, did I do that to this bucket!?”  I hear the train whistle and if I look close enough I still see a red caboose getting ever farther away.  I remember the taste of the mulberry's that grew on a tree right beside the house and can hear the creaking of the windmill that towered above the house.  I smell the smoke of the burning barrel as granddad burned trash and can hear tractor firing up as we went to help bail hay.

Yet even though both my grandparents were gone, the house and barn were still there and I took comfort in the memories still held vividly in that place.     Then just the other week we all got news that all the structures on the farm are due to be torn down very soon.  The quarry offered the family one last time to come see the farmhouse that some had called home, some had called a refuge, and some had simply called grandma and granddad’s house.  I was traveling for work and could not even make the last trip to see the farm.  However I studied each picture that my cousins and family sent over chat and remembered.  I wanted to capture this moment in time so that even when the house and farm are gone and memories that were bound to that place for so many years are free to float away, that this may be a net to catch them. 

Here is a trip through memory lane.   Most of the pictures are from my cousins so thanks to them for sharing!

The long driveway crossed railroad tracks.  New tracks now go right beside the should down to the quarry which is way back where the tower is located in the picture.

The house is starting show its age.   There used to a big front porch spanning the entirety of the front of the house.   On the right side there was a porch swing where all three of us would cram in and swing it as high as we could until the parents came out fussing.    The top left window was looking out from the "back room" which was a bedroom we stayed and talked many a night.  

In an old photo I found you can the swing in use.

That swing stands out because everyone used it.  Here were some old photos of granddad with me and one of my cousins, Matt as well as many more the new photo.

Even my dad liked that swing.

Off to left of of the house in a flied was the "little barn."   The little barn was knocked down years ago and the only picture I could find of it was this one.  We were always riding horses and me and Cash spent many hours together riding. 

To the right of the little barn was the Big barn.    The horses had a cozy home in this barn, but the top lofts were hideaways for us.    These pictures are as it stands now before it is torn down.

The sawdust pile was located here in the back of the barn.

Our hideaway was the loft of the big barn.  Here is where we had practice dummies to fight and a piece of a sword we had made still standing from all those years ago.

This is a painting of what the farm looked like in its heyday.

Time flies and we all grow up, but that farm always connects us.   Three amigos:  Matt, Chris, Josh.

Even my parents were married in the front yard of that house.  My sister took a beautiful tribute to that marriage just days ago.

The three siblings at the house one last time.

And of course the two people that were the glue that kept us together:  Richard and Virginia.

"The House that build me"

I know they say you can't go home again. I just had to come back one last time. Ma'am I know you don't know me from Adam. But these hand prints on the front steps are mine. Up those stairs, in that little back bedroom Is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar. And I bet you didn't know, under that live oak My favorite dog is buried in the yard.  I thought if I could touch this place or feel it This brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself If I could just come in I swear I'll leave. Won't take nothing but a memory From the house that built me.  Mama cut out pictures of houses for years. From 'Better Homes and Garden' magazines. Plans were drawn, and concrete poured, And nail by nail and board by board Daddy gave life to mama's dream.  I thought if I could touch this place or feel it This brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself. If I could just come in I swear I'll leave. Won't take nothing but a memory From the house that built me.  You leave home, you move on and you do the best you can. I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am.  I thought if I could touch this place or feel it This brokenness inside me might start healing. Out here it's like I'm someone else, I thought that maybe I could find myself. If I could walk around I swear I'll leave. Won't take nothing but a memory From the house that, built me.