It's not the stuff that creates good memories
The other day, my mom forwarded me a link to the listing for my grandparents' house, which is now for sale.
(You may remember that my grandpa died last year, and I went to South Dakota to see my beloved childhood place one more time.)
No one needs the house anymore, so it's been emptied and now it's up for sale.
As I looked at the photos, I saw the house through a stranger's eyes and I realized: the house is nothing special.
At least, not to anyone outside of my extended family.
If I were shopping for a house and I went to see this listing, I'd just see an old, kind of outdated fixer-upper with some seriously weird bathrooms.
But to me, this house is one of the best places on earth, not because of the house itself, but because of the memories it holds.
The tiny kitchen, the unique sound the floor makes when you run up the stairs, the slightly musty smell in the basement, the odd little upstairs bathroom...all of those things are endearing to me because of the experiences I had in that house and because of how kind people there were to me.
In fact, to this day when I smell a slight scent of mildew, happy feelings come over me. Even though I KNOW mildew is not supposed to be a good smell. 😉
So that got me thinking about how this could be a really encouraging thing for all of us to remember: that the way you treat people and the way you make them feel is what impacts them and makes good memories.
We don't have to offer fancy, expensive stuff to the people in our lives in order to create good memories...we just have to give them love and kindness and warmth.
And that's something you can offer no matter your financial circumstances.
By the same token, it's possible to have really negative feelings and memories about a beautiful house, an expensive vacation, or a brand new car if there's a lack of love, kindness, and warmth associated with those things.
There's actually a proverb about that!
It's not that you can't have nice material things AND love, of course...that would be a false dichotomy.
I'm just saying that when we feel like the stuff we have to offer isn't enough, it's really good to remember that the stuff isn't what matters!
If my grandparents' little 1910 home in South Dakota can feel like the happiest place on earth to me, then I think all of us probably can create good memories and happy feelings with the people around us, right where we are, right at our income level, right now.
And that's a happy thought. 🙂
P.S. Though I think this applies to lots of relationships, I think it's especially encouraging to think about as a parent. It's easy to feel pressure to provide a lot of material goods to our kids, but it takes some of the pressure off if we remember that material goods aren't the things that matter most.
Beautiful!
Even though those precious memories endure, I'm so glad that you were able to revisit those childhood memories, so dear to your heart, one more time.
Also good to remember this as a grandparent.....stuff isn't what builds memories with your grandparents...it is the love, kindness and time you devote to them.
These trips down memory lane after our loved ones pass can be bittersweet...but oh how they can be revealing and help us grow. It is amazing how the ones before us still leave lots of lessons once they have passed. Goes to show they live on in our hearts!
Meant to say grandchildren!
When my grandparents' home sold, it felt so strange--perhaps especially since my aunt and uncle still live next door. When we visited them this summer, I wanted so much to be able to show my children Oma and Opa's house. But I knew it wouldn't be the same. (It certainly wasn't the same on the unkempt outside!) You are so right that the memories are made by the people and the love; they cast the best light on their surroundings.
I attended a youth group reunion Saturday and rekindled many warm memories. One thing that really touched my heart was one remark "Your house was the fun house. I still go by to remember the fun we had there." That house was tiny. We had much less money than other families but my mom made it fun! We climbed trees, took hikes, made snow ice cream, got soaked with the hose and sprinkler and played outside in good weather and in our damp basement in bad. Mom made everyone feel welcome and special. One doesn't need money or a nice house to do that.
Lovely reminder, Kristen!
Thank you!
Thank you for this post. I am fortunate after moving around the US I am able to come "home". I purchased my grandparents home and live on our Century Farm. The outside world is so crazy it's a comfort to be here. Karen
As a great grandmother now, I have noticed that the happy memories my children and grandchildren have usually aren't ones of a trip or some other expensive experience, but some everyday happening that I can barely remember. One remembered the way the house smelled of turkey baking on awakening on Thanksgiving morning. Another remembered the pan I used to make chocolate pudding. and gathering eggs in the hen house.
This is so true, and I have first-hand experience of learning that love, relationships and experiences matter more than things.
As a youngster, our old church building burned to the ground, and I learned "church" is not a beautiful building, it's the family of brothers and sisters in faith.
As a teen, we lived in an old farmhouse that I loved, on a farm where many comical things happened (we could have written a book), but a coming industrial transfer station caused us to sell it to the company which was building the station and move, and a year later, it burned when a renter built a fire in the un-inspected fireplace. I learned that the memories we created on that crazy farm with my family could still make us laugh until we hurt, even though the the farm was no longer ours and the house was gone.
The last home in which I lived with my parents, before moving out as a young adult, burned when I was in my forties, and the fire took my parents' lives as well. I have not much left of their things, and what there was left was split amongst me and my siblings, but my memories of the love, the gatherings, the holidays, even the arguments, are precious to me. It's not the place, it's not the things, it's the love and relationships that count.
I want my kids and grandkids to treasure our relationships and happy times, not our house and not what things we gave them. I worked to instill that value in my kids and now I'm working to establish relationships with the grandkids that will matter more to them than any toys we give them.
*One of my best memories of my grandmother was that she let me help her make homemade dumplings on busy Thanksgiving mornings when she had so many other things to do, steaming pans on the stove and a turkey in the oven to baste. Looking back, I realize how patient she had to have been!
Oh my goodness...you DO have experience with losing houses. Wow!
Thank you for sharing this! I think your perspective about memories despite very difficult experiences is very inspiring.
I am so sorry for the loss of your parents. I can only imagine how traumatic that must have been for you. Peace to you, JD
We recently sold our dream custom home. We are now in a little outdated rental. After the BIG MOVE and downsize, my family and I realized we really miss nothing about the BIG HOUSE. We are together. We are safe and warm. We now have a little money in the bank. Life is good.
I will always cherish the memories in that house ...we raised our boys there....but the house itself is just a HOUSE.
I once wrote a piece for a national magazine about my grandmother's house and the good feelings I had there. I described it fully--including the holes in the kitchen linoleum you had to watch for in bare feet--but my mother was embarrassed and ashamed, and was angry with me for a long time for writing the piece. Ah well. Everyone else liked it!
Aww. That sounds like such a lovely piece. Things like holes in linoleum can be beloved features if you've had happy times in that kitchen. 🙂
So true! To add to that thought, I also think the best food I have eaten has been prepared in the humblest of kitchens. Something to remember after watching HGTV and having kitchen envy hit!
My grandma's sweet rolls were some of the best food I've ever eaten and she baked those in her teeny little kitchen. So, yes! I completely agree.
It's true! The kitchen with the holey linoleum and the stove you had to light with a match (which I longed to be allowed to do when I was little--to this day I love lighting a gas stove with a match) produced the best food ever, including blackberry cobbler with thick cream, with the blackberries picked by yours truly.
My parents just put their house on the market in South Dakota as well. They bought the house from my great grandparents so this house has been in my life and my mom's life forever and always. It was odd to see the listing, it wasn't the house I knew, just a blank slate for a new family. My dad was having a tough time getting my mom motivated to get the house ready for sale so I sat HIM down and told him that this is a hard move on mom no matter how ready she is to move closer to me and her grandchild. This house holds so many memories, both good and bad, and that if he can acknowledge that this is tough for her the move will be much easier. He saw the house, she saw the lifetime there.
Yes, it's SO weird to see a house like that empty. I was always so used to it being full of people and furniture that the empty real estate photos felt strange.
Where in South Dakota did your parents live? My grandparents were in a small town outside Sioux Falls.
Sioux Falls! I'm always amazed at what a small world it is.
I lived in Sioux Falls myself when my son was born eight years ago. It's such a wonderful part of the country.
I know, right? The internet really makes the world seem small.
Ahhh. I had similar feelings when my dad sold my childhood home last year. We were an Army family and it was the only place we ever put down roots. I admit it was really sad seeing it go after living there for 15 years. I felt similarly when my Nanny's husband redid their home after she passed away. There's a fleeting sadness and happiness when I think about these places. But it's important to let the happiness and love win every time. 🙂
This post is one of your best! It resonated with me as the old house I grew up in was over a century old and was a beloved place with all my childhood memories and echos from so many other children though the years. I made the mistake one year on a visit to my home town with my kids of stopping and asking if we could do a quick walk-through and they agreed. I hated all the changes. I said nothing except thanks but my mind was screaming "You painted over all the pine paneling!" In my case Thomas Wolfe was right about "you can't go home again".
Oh yes, that makes so much sense and I know it's how I'd feel if I could see photos of my grandparents' house updated and remodeled. I know it would technically be an improvement, but I do not want to see this house any other way than the way I remember it. I just want it to forever live in my memory as it was!
To this day, when I smell vinegar, I think of dying Easter eggs at Grandma's: how she was determined to get a true red one, (could never happen, because the Paas dye wasn't intense enough, though she kept trying); and how she expected our small families to eat the six or so dozen eggs hard-boiled for the occasion.
We never did, and when we would go back to her house at Mother's Day, Grandma would still be eating them, from the bowl sitting out on the dining room table. This rather skewed my ideas about egg safety, but I stick with the modern egg care rules.
Thank you posting this loving memory of your people and places, and thank you to the other commenters as well.
Lol. In our family, Sunday evening dinner was always tuna fish salad made with lots of the eggs we kids had dyed the day before. The dye always seemed to leak into the actual eggs, so it made for some very funny looking dinners. Thank you for bringing up a good memory I haven't thought of in a long time.
Adorable that your grandmother kept eating the eggs
Great post! Funny that you mention the smell of musty basements. When I was 10 my siblings and I spent a whole month with our grandmother in Niagara Falls. One of the places we played a lot in was her basement, which had an old piano and a record player. It had an odd layout and always the same odd smell, a combination of dust, mildew, and tea tree oil. To this day mildew and tea tree oil still make me smile because it makes me remember that summer, one of the best in my life.
I love older houses. The one I grew up in was built in 1920 and my mom still lives there. Some people say it's so small, especially compared to the McMansions that are usually built today, but I always thought it was just right. I wouldn't want a large house, not cozy enough and too much extra space to clean!
My grandparents built a house to my grandma's specs when they had only two of seven kids left in the house. My grandpa predeceased her, and when my grandma died, the house was sold to be moved. It was clad in brick, but of course moving brick is not really feasible; now it's dark blue siding with replacement windows that have white surrounds, and it sits facing off toward a canyon (an upgraded view my grandma would approve of). It's pretty! — and, by coincidence, my cousin got married this fall in the pasture across the road. It's clearly being used and enjoyed. All in all, very satisfying.
Also, I think this post is one I'll come back to read comments on all day long. Talk about striking a chord with others.
My wife's family moved to SC last year after living their whole lives in New York. My wife still has issues going to her grandfather's house and passing her old childhood home and not being able to go into it. I think if pressed she's probably more upset about not having her family close by more than losing the physical home.
I dread the day when we have to sell my grandmother's house, though there's talk about keeping it in the family, which is nice.
What a nice post! I, too, have places of sentiment that are not sentimental because of the place, but because of the good memories with people, especially my grandparents. In particular, there's a cabin in north Georgia that is effectively no longer in the family and fits the sentiment that you express, plus one more "cue" that makes me remember good times there.
"In fact, to this day when I smell a slight scent of mildew, happy feelings come over me. Even though I KNOW mildew is not supposed to be a good smell."
I like a particular smell most folks would find off-putting at best. This stems from the time when I was a kid and my grandparents had that cabin in north Georgia. I always had a great time with them, and associated the scents accordingly, with one rank smell that I liked because of the positive association, I thought it was merely a "mountain smell." Later, I realized it was skunk. To this day, the smell of skunk reminds me of wonderful time in the mountains with my grandparents.
Yep, I like the smell of skunk. Pretty interesting how a positive association will do that to a smell like that.
Me too! I thought I was the only one who liked the smell of skunk. It reminds me of lazy summer evenings as a child, free of worries and anxieties. Very nostalgic. But it's usually not something I announce to others...
Do you know there is a group of people, mostly women, who smell skunk as lemon? My sister and I are two of them and were invited to participate in a study trying to figure out why. When we were kids my father used to take us on Sunday drives; we were poor and these were our little vacations. My sister and I would ask to be taken to the lemon orchards and my father could nor figure out what we were talking about since lemons are not grown in the north...it took years before we realized road kill skunks were one of our favorite smells!
This made me laugh! I think you've topped my mildew memories.
My kids have great memories of our mini vacations. In fact they were poverty trips. We rented 1 room in a motel with an indoor pool. They fought to sleep in the sleeping bag. We ate out of food I brought & went out for dinner at cheap laces.it also was by a state park ,place to run .
Kristen- I absolutely LOVE this post. Your words are very true and an excellent reminder of the heart of our memories and relationships.
It's funny that you mentioned the slight musty smell that triggers happy feelings for you. I have a very similar experience. My grandparents had a summer cottage near Calvert Cliffs. It was a VERY old summer cottage. Under the house was where the water pump was located and a place of storage & such- in addition to where the old tub washer and wringer were. When we were little, Grandma would pop us in the tub washer when we came up from the beach. This way we didn't track sand and stuff into the house. Anyway, there was a slight musty smell in there. To this day- if I get a whiff of that- instantly I am blessed with good, loving and happy feelings!
I know exactly how that feels!
I couldn't agree more.
My Nana lived in low income housing for seniors in a batchelor suite type apartment.
She died 20 years ago, but I know if I were to go back to that place I would see past the aging building and tiny rooms. I would smell that weird hallway smell where all scents come together to live and be flooded with memories of visiting Nana.
I would remember the joy of playing with coasters and cards as play food and dishes. I would remember grabbing a candy or five from her candy dish in the entry-way and the soft green-brown-grey carpet.
You're so right. Memories are not built on haves and have-nots, but rather the relationships and love we have with the people around us.
thanks for sharing this
It's so nice when you write down what I've also experienced with family and places and memories. It's definitely not the outward appearances, it's always about what you experienced in that place or with those people. It was a very encouraging post, thank you!
Today is my grandmother's birthday, and I've spent the day reminiscing the wonderful memories of her. I so dearly wish I could give her a hug today! Grandparents and memories certainly are special!
My cousin recently sent me the listing for my now-deceased parent's beach getaway place, which they had for nearly forty years, but sold a few years before they died. I loved seeing that someone had freshened it up and made it a place for new people to enjoy. The house we grew up in has been radically remodeled, too. I'm fine with that. In fact, we're in the middle of a total house remodel that we're flipping. We always talk and think of the new family that will live there and we hope the care we are taking will make it happy and safe place for them to create memories for years to come.
Great and timely post, Kristen!
I know what you mean about the familiar smells of a place. When I walked through my grandparents house before the sale I was 100% fine...until I went down into my grandpa's workshop in the basement. The smells there overwhelmed me and I lost it! Tears.For.Days! I have wonderful memories of their house though, which is a huge comfort.
This is so appropriate today. I just spent several days with a couple of other family members working on the house I grew up in (I'm 60 years old). It's not had much updating over the years and is a bit behind on maintenance but it still was home. It will be sold soon because my parent has moved to assisted living. Most of the furniture is old. We looked at a lot of pictures from my childhood and while we didn't have a lot we had a wonderful existence.
You are so right about worrying about giving your children a lot of things. I think it sends the wrong message about what is important and also sets them up to possibly be disappointed when they are on their own.
One of my favorite smells is cigarette smoke. My father smoked all his life and all the times I hugged him I would inhale the odor of those Lucky Strikes. Weird, I know.
My grandfather smoked a pipe. He's been gone for almost 40 years now but I still look for him when I smell pipe smoke (which is a rare thing these days). Also .... I love the smell of libraries! All those new and old book smells mixed together--ahhhh.
This is a lovely piece. I kind of had the opposite happen in my life -- we lived for most of my childhood in a big old Victorian that people loved -- spacious with all the bells and whistles. But, my dad decided it was too expensive when taxes went up so we moved to a much tinier and modest home in a more modest town when I was in college (and living at home). I remember friends asking didn't I miss the big old house? And I realized we were much happier in the small one -- my dad quit worrying about everything and calmed down, my brother was in and out all the time, and we all hung out and talked and ate together a lot more. Funny, but i think we got closer when we were all older! While I have happy memories the old house, I wasn't actually sad to leave it.. My mom kept saying that as long as the family was together we would be fine and she was right.
I loved this piece!
Oh and I am so glad you got to see the old homestead again!
And, we (husband and self--grown daughter on her own) still live in a very small, very modest home in a modest neighborhood and are very happy. I guess I learned from my childhood experience.
This. Exactly This! Thanks for posting this. You have a way with gratitude and a philosophy on life and frugality that extends into some really lovely ideas. <3
I had very similar thoughts when I viewed the listing of my grandparent's house! My grandparents who were so "rich" when I was little had such a humble house through my adult eyes. They built it when was I was 11 or 12, and to me building a house was something only rich people would do! But we always loved to go to Grandpa and Grandma's house! Such fond memories there!
I have read your blog since about 2010. This is in the top three posts you have ever written in my opinion. It really warmed my heart and reminded me of such profound truth. Your simple truths that make me value the valuable is why I keep coming back. Thank you!
Aww, that's such a high compliment. Thank you for your encouragement. 🙂
That is a beautiful observation and so true!
The safety I felt in my grandmother's house has carried me through life, and I feel I have been transfering it to my children without them ever being able to visit the place.
When I can't sleep at night, I still go back in my imagination; I relive wandering around, joining my grandmother in the kitchen when she was preparing food. But the strongest memory is lying in an oldfashioned bed with a matress in three pieces, always feeling the separations in my back and at my ankles. The safety in that room will stay with me forever.
Thank you for this beautiful piece, Kristen.
Oh yes, I do that too! It's such a happy place to visit with my imagination.
This doesn't really have to do with "home" although now that he has just bought his own home maybe it does. My son's favorite smell is that of a hockey rink at 5:00 am in the morning! So many early practise sessions on the ice bring back fond memories for him. So folks, before you grumble about getting out of bed for that predawn trip to the rink, remember, you are making special memories!
My grandpa was a smoker, and whenever I smell cigarette smoke in cold air, it makes me happy.
As an adult I went back to my childhood church to see it decommissioned. The pastor performing the service expressed surprise at how we were mourning a building. But, it wasn't the building; it was the community there in which we had been families growing together. So many memories centered around that church family. I could probably write a whole book of those memories.
Two things-
I LOVE the photos in this post. I feel like I have been there- you sure have an eye for composition! I wonder about the funny bathroom- one thing I have seen only in Iowa is that they add plumbing by putting it on the floor and building a "platform" for the toilet and sink to sit on. Is that what you mean? (in any case, can we see a photo of the bathroom, sometime?)
I, too, have a memory from the smell of mildew. My grandfather was a mechanic and he worked in their detached garage which had walls of just the studs - no drywall. He had every license plate he had ever had on any car he owned tacked up on the ceiling arch. And it smelled just mildewy, or musty, enough that it always triggers memories of him and that place for me. Funny, isn't it? Great post, Kristen - and we should all remember this more often.