Movin' right along
Yesterday was my one uncle's birthday. (I thought I had a cool birthday--his is 12/3/45.) However, as a twist, my dad got a call from my other uncle. (I think his birthday might be in December as well, but later in the month. I don't know. We don't really celebrate stuff like that.)
Anyway, my uncle Ted (not the birthday boy) called to tell my dad that he'd moved. This is somewhat huge. See, he is the uncle whose property abutted O'Hare. The whole fuss about putting in a new south runway literally hit close to home, as in it will pave over his home, or something like that. Through a series of events I don't all know about, my aunt and uncle ended up selling their house to the city and they moved less than half an hour away from us. As in, my dad practically passes their house on the way to work every day. Wow.
It's been years since I've been to their house--probably a decade. But it played a big role during my formative years. If I spent the majority of my time in my own house, and the next biggest chunk at my mom's parents' house, then the third biggest chunk was at Ted's. My grandmother lived with him from the time I was about four until the year before she died, when I was nineteen. Many holidays were spent there, as grandma cooked a lot, and of course we'd go over and visit, too. It is because of that house that I love raspberries, as there was a patch that grew on the O'Hare side of the fence all the way at the back of the property, and a few times my cousins and I would walk back there and eat the berries right off the bushes. The property was narrow, but long; they probably had several acres. And I don't recall my aunt and uncle living anywhere else my entire life. But grandma's been gone for almost a decade, and my cousin lives down in Kankakee and is studying to be an EMT, so he's gone, too. I guess it was just time for them to go.
This makes me sad--one more piece of my childhood biting the dust. No more reading all the stickers my cousin had stuck to his bedroom door (though nearly all of them read "Kevin"). No more going downstairs after dinner and pretending we were a band, playing all of Kevin's musical instruments. All of us always wanted to play the drums. But he also had a clarinet--that's where I first played clarinet, actually, and I figured out a G scale on it, though I didn't realize what it was at the time. No more seeing their menagerie, which always included fish, but also parakeets and stray cats my grandmother would find. No more Fourth of July and setting off illegal fireworks in the neighbor's driveway, because their driveway was concrete and Ted's was gravel.
I want to go back one last time, to say goodbye, to see the property and figure out just how long it is. I don't know if I'll get the chance. But at least my aunt and uncle got to say goodbye on their own terms, and I hope their neighbors get to do the same.
Anyway, my uncle Ted (not the birthday boy) called to tell my dad that he'd moved. This is somewhat huge. See, he is the uncle whose property abutted O'Hare. The whole fuss about putting in a new south runway literally hit close to home, as in it will pave over his home, or something like that. Through a series of events I don't all know about, my aunt and uncle ended up selling their house to the city and they moved less than half an hour away from us. As in, my dad practically passes their house on the way to work every day. Wow.
It's been years since I've been to their house--probably a decade. But it played a big role during my formative years. If I spent the majority of my time in my own house, and the next biggest chunk at my mom's parents' house, then the third biggest chunk was at Ted's. My grandmother lived with him from the time I was about four until the year before she died, when I was nineteen. Many holidays were spent there, as grandma cooked a lot, and of course we'd go over and visit, too. It is because of that house that I love raspberries, as there was a patch that grew on the O'Hare side of the fence all the way at the back of the property, and a few times my cousins and I would walk back there and eat the berries right off the bushes. The property was narrow, but long; they probably had several acres. And I don't recall my aunt and uncle living anywhere else my entire life. But grandma's been gone for almost a decade, and my cousin lives down in Kankakee and is studying to be an EMT, so he's gone, too. I guess it was just time for them to go.
This makes me sad--one more piece of my childhood biting the dust. No more reading all the stickers my cousin had stuck to his bedroom door (though nearly all of them read "Kevin"). No more going downstairs after dinner and pretending we were a band, playing all of Kevin's musical instruments. All of us always wanted to play the drums. But he also had a clarinet--that's where I first played clarinet, actually, and I figured out a G scale on it, though I didn't realize what it was at the time. No more seeing their menagerie, which always included fish, but also parakeets and stray cats my grandmother would find. No more Fourth of July and setting off illegal fireworks in the neighbor's driveway, because their driveway was concrete and Ted's was gravel.
I want to go back one last time, to say goodbye, to see the property and figure out just how long it is. I don't know if I'll get the chance. But at least my aunt and uncle got to say goodbye on their own terms, and I hope their neighbors get to do the same.