201

Last night, after more than 100 years, the house next door to mine came down.

The demolition crew started on the garage around 1:00 yesterday afternoon, and by the time I got home from work, they had cleaned it up and were ready to start on the house.

Roughly an hour and a half later, the house was gone and the cleanup began.

In talking with the neighbors, we can’t help but feel sad about it. Sad that such a beautiful old building – one full of so much history and character – had to be torn down because of the neglect it suffered over the last several years. Even in its neglect, it still kept much of the charm it had all those years ago when it was one of the finest homes in town. I suppose even now I was holding out hope that someone would swoop in and renovate that house as it deserved.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mqotuuCCQZQ&feature=youtu.be - video of the front of the house.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WfhU9-2yuqw&feature=youtu.be - last of the second floor.

As we have worked through my house these last few months, I can’t imagine the work that must have gone into building the house next door all those years ago. You could see the chisel marks on the woodwork we salvaged, and we heard the stories of the wagon train that brought in all that foundation stone from Indiana. No pneumatic nail guns around..no circular saws.

In the short time I’ve lived in the neighborhood, I’ve heard so many stories about this house. From sitting on the porch sipping tea with grandparents, to sleepovers with friends, and the junior-senior prom held here way back when, this house has seen over a century of family – and community – history pass through its halls, and now all that’s left is the memory.

There’s something sweet about that, though. As it stood most recently, the house was not the one from those memories – it had become a sadder version of itself and it might be better – certainly easier – for everyone to remember it as it was.