It was dark brown with stone trim when we lived there. There were originally huge white birch trees on either side of the walk, but they got some tree disease and had to come down. The replacement must have come from a later owner, I don't remember my parents planting anything after.
It's strange to see it now, not because of whats changed, but because of what hasn't, like the cabinets in the kitchen. The walls had a black and white paisley wallpaper and there was a brick patterned vinyl on the floor, otherwise its untouched. To the right was the big bar cabinet where I learned to mix my dad's Chivas and water, the beginning of my affinity for scotch. Oh, and that pendant where the table goes was red. Painting it to match the walls was a good idea.
I'm really surprised that nobody has ever pulled out that paneling or those fake beams. The pinkish carpet looks bad, but its way better than the olive green I used to flop down on to watch TV.
Most shocking of all is the asking price of 110K, for a 4 bedroom 2 bath house. I sold my 2 bedroom 1 bath bungalow in Brookside (not far from where we are now) 10 years ago for 112K. Location location location, it really is true.I've said before that I'm not sentimental about houses, but seeing it again does give me pause. A lot of things went down within those walls, mostly good things, a few not so great. Like any house I suppose.
4 comments:
Very interesting. I think it would pain me to see the house where I grew up. We were the last family to live in it. Since our tenure, it housed a law office. Later, a counseling clinic. (Old house, downtown location.)
The price of your old house is shocking. Seems like a lot of house for that amount of money.
each time the house i grew up in goes on the market, my mom would go see it in the open house. she said she had to stop because it was making her sad. she took such good care of it, that it hurts her when it's not in as good condition as she thinks it should be. they built that house, so she's very attached. i only walked through it once and that was enough for me. too sad to see everything all different...
Often when visiting KC I drive by the houses I lived in as a lad. Seems to always make me cry. I loved those places.
The world was a very different place way back when
David,
Wow, I barely recognized the front of the house, but the inside looks just the same. I remember sneaking cigs out of the sliding glass door in the family room, and all those cabinets that you would slam as I chased you through the kitchen. Thanks for the memories honey.
Love you! Stacy
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