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A
slice of home reflects values, needs |
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I was raised in a comfortable ranch-style cement block house
with hot water pipes in the concrete floors under the
carpeting that kept every floor toasty warm all winter.
My dad built the house in 1946 and still lives there today.
The house, lovely and spacious, is a showplace of repair
and improvement, the landscaping gorgeous and the circle
driveway has a giant oak tree in its center standing sentinel
over the three lots. For me, it will always be home.
I wonder, do the homes we grow up in have anything to
do with the dreams of our adult living spaces? Do we seek
the same comforts and similar lifestyles we had as children?
Since 1980 I’ve lived in the same house in a suburb
of Milwaukee, a large tan brick on two lots with enormous
trees. I like my house, but as I get older the day will
come when the yard work will be too much. But hopefully
for at least 10 more years, I’ll wander around my
home, try not to feel too guilty because it isn’t
always spotless and enjoy the view of the trees from my
deck.
Now that my children are grown and living all over the
place, I’ve learned some lessons about what is important
to each of us when it comes to the spaces where we live
and plant our roots.
My youngest child is still a part-time student in Arizona,
working a variety of free-lance jobs with network TV sports,
often traveling around the country on a weekly basis.
His roots, for now, are planted in a rented, ranch-style,
four-bedroom home shared with four other young people
his age. Andrew admits to spending lots of free time at
his girlfriend’s house. For him, his job and friends
are infinitely more important than his physical environment.
My son Michael and his wife Amy own a medium-size home
in the heart of a busy Madison neighborhood, a few miles
from the campus and hospital where Michael and Amy work.
Their neighborhood is filled with houses that are very
close together, sidewalks on both sides of the street,
many young families, lots of children and a huge efficiently-run
baby-sitting co-op. They talked about moving to a bigger
home outside the city limits when their third child was
born, but instead added a bedroom and full bath in their
basement because they want to stay in the house that’s
close to the schools, jobs, church and more friends than
you can imagine.
My daughter Julia lives with her three children in a rented
three-bedroom, two-story townhouse on the outskirts of
the eye-blinker town of Dane in the Madison Diocese. She
has lots of closets, beautiful oak trim and a washer and
dryer right off the kitchen. Not having to do yard work
or worry about major repairs is a boon to Julia’s
sanity as she struggles with the everyday stresses of
being a single parent. Still, someday she hopes to own
a home instead of having to pay rent.
My oldest daughter, Jeanne and her husband Canyon have
a far-out lifestyle compared to the rest of us. When I
visited her for the first time after they moved to the
coastal hills of the Bay Area in California, I experienced
a scary ride on a steep, winding, hair-pin curvy road
up into the hills. Then we parked the car and began the
hike up to the house that was built by wilderness lovers
in the 1960s. You have your choice: a quarter-mile hike
on a narrow, steep dirt path barely a foot wide in places
with no guardrail even at the dangerous places …
or you can climb the steps. First, 20 steep steps, then
perhaps 50 feet of path, then 20 more steps, more path,
more steps, another path.
One-hundred-sixty-seven steps total until you reach their
quaint all-wood house perched on a steep hillside, surrounded
on all four sides by dense forest. Trees everywhere, close,
distant, and climbing to the horizon on the far side of
the canyon.
The house has no heat source other than a small wood stove
in the living room, a single bathroom with a tiny hot
water heater that seems to stop working at least once
a day, and no screens on the windows or doors to keep
out critters, cats or bugs. Jeanne, who is obviously in
love with the place, smiles, “We had a raccoon in
here one night.” I shudder, rub my knees to ease
the pain of walking up 167 steps, and walk out on the
deck that boasts a breath-taking view of mountains, hills
and trees as far as the eye can see.
When I returned home after my five-day visit which included
seven trips up and down those steps, I practically kissed
the one and only step I must climb to get into my house.
With a cup of vanilla tea fixed just the way I like it,
I thought about how we all create environments that fit
our needs. Andrew needs other people living in his house
to help divide up the cost of housing and the work of
a home while he finishes school. Michael and Amy need
the closeness of their busy friendly neighborhood as they
raise their family. Julia needs a landlord who will deal
with the big fix-it issues. And Jeanne and Canyon need
space and trees and isolation and quiet. It all comes
with a price, but for all of us, it’s home, sweet,
exactly-how-we-like-it, home.
(Lorenz, an internationally-known author and speaker,
lives in Oak Creek and is a member of Divine Mercy Parish,
South Milwaukee. You may contact her for speaking engagements
at <patricialorenz@juno.com>.) |
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