Nov 16, 2010
Ten-Word Tuesday. The First House
Bossy recently took this photo — it’s the first house she can remember living in when she was just a couple of years old. It’s located in a Philadelphia neighborhood called Germantown, which is a coincidence because it was founded by Germans in the 1600s.
The house is filled with apartments — the Bossy family lived on the ground floor, in the apartment that encompasses the windows you see to the left of the front door. This apartment house fell in disrepair over the last few decades, but thankfully it’s being renovated.
The porch previously ran the distance of the front of the house — which was painted bright white with a red front door — and the landscaping was more mature and integrated.
Other things Bossy remembers about this first house: it was filled with interesting people who practiced a very 1960s open-door policy. Bossy’s family apartment was the hub for these strange bedfellows who would gather regularly for the copious meals prepared by Bossy’s mom.
Bossy remembers having a crush on one of the neighbors in particular. Or maybe he was a boyfriend of a neighbor. His name was Larry.
Larry had a tangle of jet black hair which he sometimes secured in a ponytail. And he had an epic beard and eyes that smiled and Bossy wanted to marry him.
Other people Bossy remembers from this apartment house: the landlord Van, which was a nickname formed when Van’s last name was chopped in two. Van was an older gentleman.
Van would periodically turn up at the Bossy apartment door with a tongue under his arm, asking Bossy’s mom to prepare it. And sometimes Bossy would go upstairs and watch TV with Van in his apartment because that’s what kids did when dinosaurs roamed the earth. As Bossy remembers it, Van had one of the first remote controls.
Bossy remembers the following regarding the layout of the family apartment, but she may have it all wrong:
Bossy can sum up this first place she remembers living in this way: Love and friend-filled, it shaped Bossy’s way of socializing.
Which is what today’s Ten-Word Challenge is all about. In exactly ten words, can you tell Bossy about the first place you remember living?
And be sure to check back later today for the best early memories on the web!
Head stuck in staircase rungs. Little Maura not so smart.
Northern California, 1959, shared room with one of three brothers.
Was called a “ranch” house but no horses were involved.
Mom still lives there and it’s sadly fallen into disrepair.
(ps – where did Bossy’s family pee or shower?)
One bedroom condo. Los Angeles. Shared room with two brothers.
Penn State University married student housing. Corn field in back.
Semi-attached two family house in Queens. Mom decorated chinese style.
Scary TV with brother drinking hot chocolate, old houses creak.
The Addams family house was LITERALLY across street. True story.
(Charles Addams used it as his inspiration when creating the cartoon.)
Had a series of dogs — no memory of walking them.
–>Orange/yellow/brown shag carpet that matched orange recliner.
–>Neighbors all knew each other so kids were always “watched.”
Big house, lots of snow, Rochester NY. Moved to CA.
Orange tree in every yard GI tract, San Fernando valley.
40+ kids live in five houses. Moms barely maintain sanity.
Navy base housing in California. The moms smoked a lot.
Enfield CT 1964. Shag carpeting, orange vinyl covered kitchen chairs.
Maybe Bossy doesn’t remember the bathroom due to diapers? Heh.
hey, my name is Van! good to hear of another one of us
Early 1950’s, Mom and I lived with grandparents and uncle.
Entire second floor of city tenement. GIANT gas space heater.
first floor of two-family house, brother’s tiny room through us girls’
OK, that’s 11 words, but I can’t take out the “tiny”. I think it was originally a sewing room or a place to sit and rock a baby. Our room was off the hall, and you got to his by walking through ours. He had room for a twin bed and a dresser and a toy chest. The house was built in 1899–so much character. I miss that.
Saturday morning cartoons, fenced-in yard, Snoopy birthday cake, shag carpet
Playing in big boxes when Dad installed indoor plumbing ~~ 1952.
Military duplex. Six kids our side, nine kids their side!
1) Cute little white house, shared bunk bed with my brother.
2) Mom’s decorating: wine bottle candle holders with melted crayon drippings.
3) Still haunted by beat poet Rod McKuen albums mom played.
Early 60s, parsonage next to church, linoleum floors, big porch.
Can’t remember big things, like where’d we park the car?
This is the kitchen with Where’s Lee Harvey Oswald graffiti.
Small rancher in California, could walk to the glorious beach.
five kids one bathroom always yanked out by older sibs
now have own bathroom- bother me at your own risk
Rancher in Mojave dessert. It snowed 1″ one year. Miraculous.
Neighborhood park. Teens doing drugs in the slide. Want some?
Still living in it…well again after mom’s passing. Love it.
New Mexico base housing, Green Light Go and skinned knees.
Same apt. To die for! High ceilings, fireplaces, chandelier, butler buttons.
a swing hung in bossys doorway….
Germantown and converted mansions…
No heat because I was dating ex girlfriend of landlord.
The first place I can remember living is where I live now. No I don’t suffer from one of those weird memory illnesses you see on Dateline NBC, I am back living in the house I grew up in.
My Mom was a divorced mother of three who worked as a waitress at The Harvest House in the King of Prussia Plaza to support our family. She worked the dining room, sometimes double shifts who knows how many days a week to keep the money coming in since leaving my Dad when I was six months old. I know we lived for a time with my Grandmother in West Conshohocken followed by a succession of apartments but the only place I ever remember living is 131 West 5th Street. Bridgeport, PA 19405. Our telephone number was, and still is, 277-1842. The only things that have really changed about the place is that we switched to 610 from 215 back in the great area code split-off of 1994 (January 8, 1994, to be exact) and my Mom passed away nearly three years ago. Since separating from my wife in June of 2009 I moved back to ‘The ‘Port’ and have been calling the place my childhood home ever since.
‘It’s the little black and white house with the porch swing, pushed back from the street. It has hedges in front and it’s across from Franzone’s parking lot. The corner of 5th and Green. Between Green and Mill.’ I have given those descriptors countless times over the years to people who were on their way over for the first time. ‘Park in the lot across the street’. The lot across the street. It’s been owned by Franzone’s Pizzeria for as long as I can remember. Before they owned it, the lot contained a set of Victorian-era twin homes. I barely remember them being there, any memories are hazy and dream-like. I think they had tall ceilings and doors between the ‘parlor’ and dining rooms. Cher Devore and her family lived in the one on the left (if you were standing on my front porch), we went to kindergarten together before her family moved away. The Waldo’s lived in the one on the right before buying a single family home on Old Fort Road in King of Prussia, right down the street from Candlebrook Elementary. On a side note, Candlebrook Elementary was the site of my first kiss without brushing my teeth first. When I was in Jr High, I dated a girl whose family was having a graduation party for her older brother and I was invited over. It was a REALLY hard decision to make because my brother’s friend (and guitar mentor) Mark Williams, left his small amplifier and DOD Overdrive Preamp 250 pedal over my house and I had all afternoon to play through them before he came and took them back. Ultimately I chose to go to the party which led to my experience at Candlebrook Elementary. My girlfriend and I decided to ‘go for a walk’ and went down to the school. When we finally ’settled in’ to make-out I was sorta nervous because I had eaten some of the graduation cake at the party and had failed to cleanse my palate with some water after and here I was, breath feeling clean but slightly ‘thick’ from the cake. Ya wanna know something? I don’t think she even noticed.
My brother J and I shared a bedroom. It was upstairs in the front of the house. J was seven years older than me. I always remember our bedroom having paneling and a white acoustic tile ceiling (hey, it was the 70’s), J installed both. That would have made him maybe eleven years old. He also designed and constructed a built-in framing system that put our mattresses in an L position with storage areas underneath that had removable magnetic access panels. J also dug the hole and installed the above ground swimming pool we had in our back yard. He was probably twelve or thirteen back then. That’s the kind of guy he was. We slept in the same room for probably, ten years. That’s a lot of lights outs together. J committed suicide in February 1992.
Across the ‘hall’ was my sister Denise’s room. I say ‘hall’ but really it was just the door across from ours at the top of a flight of steps. Once you got to the top of the stairs there was a teeny-tiny ‘landing’ with a step up to the left and Denise’s room or a step up to the right to my room with J. In between these rooms (and accessible from both) was the house’s only bathroom. Guests who needed to use the bathroom normally went through the back bedroom to use it. Denise had a canopy bed. The room was painted pink and the bed was all done up with ruffles and white sheets and shams. She also had a cork board, actually tiles of thick cork my Mom glued to the wall. Even after all of these years you can see the faint traces of glue and cork that we could never get off. My sister Denise is really into music and despite lessons she never took to the piano we had down in the living room. She did however have lots of records, albums and 45’s. The 45s were kept in a mustard-yellow-ish round plastic carrier with a white handle on top that when twisted, unlocked the top from the base. Inside there was a cylinder on which the 45s were stored. I can remember the blue and green MGM Records label. And the dark burgundy/purple Capitol records label. Two of the most memorable were The Parrot Records label that accompanied a Tom Jones recording, for the life of me I can’t remember the title. It may have been ‘It’s Not Unusual’. I believe I still have it somewhere.
The other was Mary Hopkins’ ‘Those Were the Days’ on Apple. If I am being completely honest, that song always sorta creeped me out. But no 45 record ever creeped out more than the Black and Red Atlantic label adorned 45 of ‘Black Dog’ by Led Zeppelin that was in the basement rec room of my Uncle Bill and Aunt Inga’s house in Hagerstown Maryland. I remember I slept over there one time and because it was the basement with no windows I never knew what time it was. I felt like a pre-adolescent coal miner. I clearly recall dropping the needle on that 45 and hearing Robert Plant’s voice enveloped in echo-y reverb coming through the tinny speakers of their home stereo, ‘Hey hey mama said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove.’ And then that evil riff with the half-time drums, it was so rhythmically complex to my little eight-year old brain that I couldn’t handle it. Alone in the dark basement of my Military severe Uncle Bill and his German-wife Inge who spoke with a thick accent and wore pink-ish/orange lipstick on her small, thin lips that left a mark on the white paper of the non-filtered cigarettes she smoked. And Uncle Bill’s fingernails were thick and yellowed from some sort of fungus he got in Vietnam. He also had a mustache with hairs that stuck straight out like hard bristles and I always recoiled with dread when it was time to leave and I had to kiss him goodbye. Boy I remember hating that. Kissing my Uncle Bill and Aunt Inge goodbye……….I get chills thinking about it all of these years later.
Denise had a pretty varied record collection. Carole King ‘Tapestry’, Barry Manilow (I’m pretty sure she had the first five albums), The Carpenters……… this is where I believe I developed my love for love songs and ballads, that and being genetically disposed by my Scots-Irish heritage. But then she also had some of the first Kansas records which seems odd. And Beatles and Wings. And Cat Stevens. And Rod Stewart!! Boy did my sister love her some Rod Stewart. And Faces ‘A Nod is As Good As a Wink…’. My sister also took me to my first concert Kiss at The Spectrum 1977. We also bought my first album together Alice Cooper ‘Billion Dollar Babies’. And she bought me my first Guitar Player magazine, at Record Revolution in the Valley Forge Shopping Center. March 1979 with Joe Perry on the cover. I remember breaking the alarm clock she had in that room too. It was on of those ones that had the numbers that flipped. I knocked it over while I was invading her privacy when she wasn’t home and all of the numbers spilled out onto the floor. As much as I tried I wasn’t able to put it back together correctly. She still has the note I wrote her apologizing. It’s very cute.
You enter the house through the back door, always have. You walk down ‘the alley’ which is the brick walkway between my house which is ’semi-detached’ and the twin next-door. The front door opens into the room which would have traditionally been the living room but we used as my mother’s bedroom. Our living room was in the ‘dining room’. The downstairs lay-out is, in the back door, kitchen, living room (dining room) stairs upstairs to two bedrooms and bathroom, or straight to Mom’s bedroom. The house cost $6,000.00 in 1969. My mom LOVED that house. Being a single Mom working as a waitress, this was a dream come true for her. She purchased the house from The Waldo’s who moved across the street and whom I believe she knew from the kids going to school together. Suffice to say without ‘Daddy Charlie’ and Norma Waldo, my life would have been a lot different. They were extremely kind and generous people who worked with my Mom to make sure she could buy the house.
‘Coxey’s Army’
It seemed like there were always people over the house. Always filled with kids from the neighborhood. Our tiny living room, which may be 10×12 ((and FILLED TO THE BRIM with my Mom’s knick-knacks) would regularly have bodies wall to wall, I can still remember my Mom saying ‘Don’t move. Stay right where you are’ as she maneuvered her way through the room as if it were a mine field.
My sister was the first to leave (I think she moved to an apartment on Hector Street in Conshohocken) which opened up her bedroom. When my Mom talked to me about moving out of the room I shared with J, I was really upset. “Why, doesn’t he want me to be in there anymore?”. She finally convinced me how nice it would be to have my own space. It was nice. But it wasn’t the same as being in with J.
J moved out, sorta, eventually, to stay with his girlfriend over in Norristown. He was probably in his 30’s. I moved into the front room, our old room and stayed until I moved to Brooklyn in 1994 and then back in again in 2000 when Kathleen and I split. Living with my Mom was always pretty easy. We got along really well and we loved each other’s company. She was living alone in the house the night we called the ambulance and had her transported to the hospital. Years of smoking had caused the Emphysema from which she suffered and she was having more trouble than normal breathing that night. It was a Friday, actually early Saturday. Monday morning they put her on a ventilator and sedated her. The following week she was gone.
Being back in the house is sorta strange. I’m kind of in transition at this point in my life so I’m living kinda like a college kid. The place isn’t really ‘furnished’ or decorated to any degree, everything just sort of a holds a purpose for now. For the most part, it kinda looks like it did when I grew up there but most of my Mom’s stuff has been given to the thrift stores, and the things my sister and I want to keep reside in various states of storage. My Mom was great. She made getting rid of her stuff after she died so easy on us. She said ‘Whatever you want, you may have. Anything you don’t care to keep…..take it to the thrift store. That’s where most of it came from anyway. My things have served me well in my life but you don’t need to feel obligated to keep them if you don’t want them.’ The hardest thing to get rid of was her winter coat. It was nothing special, sort of a ratty old, waist-length faux-sheepskin material. I took a load of her things to her favorite thrift store one gloomy, rainy afternoon and when I pulled up to the collection area it was empty so I got out and unloaded my car. The last item was my Mom’s coat which I laid on top of the pile. As I pulled away, I kept looking in the rear-view mirror, staring at her coat. It was her warm winter coat and now it was just lying on an old pile of clothes in a parking lot. I pulled the car over and cried my eyes out.
Drafty Victorian on a dead-end street with lots of kids.
Well, Bossy, I spent my formative years in a trailer.
Grandparent’s house. No idea where we slept.
Mom still in same house. Was farm country. Now? McMansionland.
Homestead AFB. Coconut tree in front yard. Kids forever stealing.
(coconuts)
Big front porch, girls sleep north side, we sleep south
Semi-converted farm house. Haunted for sure.
Wow Dennis—–so sorry you had to go through that. I hope you feel better now and remember good times
1812 brick colonial filled with family. Warm and loving Gramma
Duplex – us upstairs, uncle, aunt and cousins downstairs.
Thinking Mpls. Snow, Crab Apples Perfect Childhood. Uhmmm #40 start a blog (He didn’t get the 10 word memo?)
First memory, not really the place just smell of new concrete stairway. Still love that smell.
First home I remember shared bedroom with two brothers. Bunk beds and a crib for baby brother. All living space downstairs, upstairs existed but off limits for the three year old and a train set lived up there. Cocker spaniel puppy found Easter hat for me that Mom had stashed up there too. Never did get to thank Blackie for that kindness.
small ranch, finished by parents, farmland subdivision, planks over mud.
Timber house, very tall steps. Did Bossy have no bathroom?
Bougainvillea out front, shag carpet inside, a pool in back.
Sounds like a lyrical upbringing, Bossy. Peace!
Lots of “harvest orange.” Scarred me for life.
Apartment next to pedophile; no wonder mom was helicoptery.
Georgia pines. Basement rancher. Brown carpets. Kittens in my closet.
PS: Larry looks like a Playmobil guy.
#40 something tells me you wanted someone to ask this question
farm house, dairy barn, garden, lots and lots of work
1950 – Family’s first house 4 people 4 rms 1 bath -$9,500
By 1956 Added 2 more kids, 2 more brms +bath
Sold 2009 – $289,000
New house – four acres – pond in back – sledding hill – freedom!
A waterfront trailer on Queens Creek was my first home.
I’m still on the same creek, different home. Prefer trailer.
six over four with a door. we built a five over four and a door and i just heart it!
In ‘Helen’s house’, a small apartment house in the Bronx.
Big farm house, fields, cattle, draft horses, dog, great food.
Geranium-covered fences, garage as extra playroom – miss you California
Berkeley, flag lot back house, dad’s Gauloises on breakfast tray!
allowed to cross street before best friend was allowed to
…and, Bossy, what a warm way to learn about social engagement…..what a sense of community that was instilled in you early on…..how cool…..
Good heaven’s Dennis has written a novel on 10-word Tuesday!!!
My 10 words:
Moved back after 25 years – peace, beauty, love, action dust.
Red Cape, Stow, Ma. Gold linoleum floor, 4 kids, Doxie!!!
Amazing house with fishpond, bought, then sold, army brat life.
inside: blue plaid sofa, pink linoleum-floored bedroom, Queens NY 1970s
outside: played on concrete, walked to school without parents, Queens NY 1970s
Tiny apartment upstairs in Grandma’s house. Love on 2 floors!
Stewartsville, NJ – Talked parents into watching Coneheads at 4 – 1977
Groovy 1960s townhouse with open courtyard where tenants grew marijuana.
Former one room school house in Aldie, VA.
Burned foot on large heater floor grill. Scarred/scared for life.
Little next-door girl taught me to play. Imaginations soared high.
Remember Daddy’s garden better than house itself. Moved at four.
Sorry, this is my first time commenting and obviously I failed to get the whole ‘ten word’ thing. I was inspired and motivated to write, even if it is rambling and ultimately sorta crashed and burned at the end. I’ll be better next time I promise.
Did Bossy attend Houston school like her brother, and friend Tim???
what part of 10 word Tuesday does @dennis not get?
“La Suzette said:
what part of 10 word Tuesday does @dennis not get?”
Obviously all of it. You can delete my entry since I broke the rules. I was on a roll, what can I say.
Single mom in a duplex with crazy best friend next door, total fun!
1950, Dad planted rose bushes for mom in the backyard.
Newport Beach, Calif 1950
pink room with pink shag carpet. grand piano that I kept hitting my head on. dog named dinki.
Dennis – I like your ten words. Ignore the snark!
Lavern and Shirley lived down stairs with their standard poodles.
Welcome to the world of BOSSY’s Snarks Dennis! We’re glad you’re here:)
3rd floor flat, wooden ironing board came out of wall.
1. Dennis, I feel like I lived with you, great memories!
2. Huge mahogany ledge at top of stairs, could play on.
3. Other side was 10 feet down to front hallway openess.
4. Brother hung & swung me with jumprope off deep end.
Actually jumprope tied to a bike innertube around my waist!
bears in camp, can’t walk to the power house by myself
Old LR neighborhood, Clintons later lived up the street.
Front hedge served as badminton net, lesbian couple there now.
When I dream I’m ‘home, it’s always in that house.
Apartment across from Griffith Park. Harley Davidson INSIDE the living room.
p.s. My poor newlywed mother didn’t know what she’d gotten herself into
Small 2 BR in Dearborn MI Dad worked at Fords
cold illinois winters where I slept with bed-wetting sister
Apartment with courtyard where kids loved and raised each other.