I noticed, not surprisingly, that most of the houses here are typical redneck houses, that is, either cheap aluminum siding houses, or trailers in a trailer park. There are a few exceptions(such as our house) of a few old “Century” homes, old Victorian brick, but generally they are run down delapidated slums.It’s interesting how houses to me bring up various different memories and feelings as well.
Our house is 95 YRS old and brick. We are surprisingly only the 4th owner!I lived in apartments until I was 12 and then we rented houses,and didn’t own our own house until I was 26 YRS old,and renting all those YRS growing up I felt a sort of a “stigma”, that it was inferior to rent, and low-class, as everyone else I knew owned their houses(they were also the ones that had plastic covering their furniture!).I was embarrassed. I was the only one in an apt, and then the only one who rented a house. I was also the only kid in school(this was back in the 70’s) that had a single mother, a mother that worked, no siblings,and had no idea where my father was. I was a freak, different, and outcast right from the beginning and always felt “less” than everyone else,”lower”,and ashamed, and when you hear of someone renting as opposed to owning you think” white trash” as white trash very rarely own their own home, but usually always rent.
I will always fondly remember our first house in Toronto. It was a nice old brick house and when we left in 1984 to move to California it was around 85 YRS old. It had nice cherry wood panelling, a fireplace,floral wallpaper, fancy French doors, and hardwood floors.I was 12 when we moved there and we had a great landlady as well; she never put the rent up the whole 6 YRS that we lived there. I still have happy memories in that house and reminders of a happy time and this is the house I consider to be my “real” home.(I even have fantasies of going back there and asking the owners if I can look around, and have dreams I actually move back there,too!) We have lived in several homes since then in different places but that one was my first and has happy memories and will always hold a special place in my heart.
Our house now is only the 2nd one that we’ve owned. Our old house I used to love and was crushed when we had to quickly leave(fleeing an enemy) and resented being displaced and having our lives disrupted and changed forever, but because of those circumstances now when I look back at that house(and that city) I have only scary fearful memories attached to it.It will always be associated with that trauma of being threatened,under siege,and in danger, no longer a safe place. It’s interesting as well that our houses have always been connected with doctors: our old Toronto house was bought by a doctor when we left, we bought our old house AND this one from a doctor! How weird is that?