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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.

Homework

I hate homework - most everything about it, actually. I hated homework so much while in college mostly because I hated what I was doing in college. (I graduated with degrees in Financial Management and Economics...needless to say, this guy was the life of the party.)

I did that to myself because I didn't want to be the guy who was 30 years old, who still wore sweatpants everyday, and referred to passers-by as "Bro" on his way to Personal Wellness. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with sweatpants (I am writing a blog, after all..). I'm just saying the seven year college track wasn't for me. College was fun. A blast. For me, though, moving on was always the purpose. I stuck with a major I disliked because deep down I knew I could pursue whatever it was I truly wanted once I had a degree, and I didn't want to spend any more time getting from 'Point A' to 'Point B' than I had to.
However, there was one thing I learned more than anything while in college: if there was something I didn't want to do, I wouldn't do it. Not in a 'kicking-and-screaming-on-the-floor-of-a-department-store" sort of way. I would do what needed done, but I definitely didn't put my heart into it. And I wanted desperately to put my heart into something.

It took some time before I put it together.

Why was I always more willing to finish my homework when I knew there was a copy of "Cottage Living" waiting for me? Why was 'This Old House' always more entertaining than 'Jersey Shore'? And why do I have this odd fascination with reading Martha Stewart's blog every day hoping for more musings from the vegetable gardens and butler's pantries of Bedford?

I now have a theory. Anytime I have a serious (read: wine-induced) conversation with a really good friend, I find that all any of us are really looking for is simplicity. We don't need to be media moguls, billionaires, or Super Bowl victors. We just need to be happy. We just want to live a life that is full and somehow rewarding - and if we leave the world a better place than it was? Bonus!
I want a house. Not a big house, but one with character and a story. Something I can restore and make even better. A place to call my own and to open up to everyone. I want to have dinner in my too-small dining room using vegetables I grew in my too-small yard. I want something simple. I want a home.

So now I begin the rest of my life - the life after school. The life of my own choosing. The kind of life that gets me involved in my small community. The kind of life where I take my own bags to the grocery store, and save food scraps in a bowl on the kitchen counter for the compost pile. My simple life.