Home

This is the home in which I grew up. My Parents were its first owners. The house was part of a late 1950s subdivision. The developer named most streets after either: (1) Civil War generals or battle sites—for example, Sherman, Davis, Concord; or (2) his relatives—Elsie, Andy, et cetera. (I learned this forty years later because I happened to go to school with the developer's Granddaughter.)

The subdivision featured three home styles. All were based on a split-level design, and the three models had many features in common.

The home my Parents bought was the middle model. It had a two-car garage, and the Master Bedroom had an en suite, turquoise bathroom that doubled as my Dad's darkroom. The secondary bath was bright pink; it matched the kitchen tile. The kitchen came equipped with Roper appliances that lasted over thirty years.

Parked in the garage are the cars—Dad's black Beetle, and Mom's white "Swan."

Suburban Chicago, December 1963. I spent a lot of time looking out of the bay window in the living room. The multiple glass panels often leaked. That window had a wide, wooden ledge onto which our black Poodle, Gigi, jumped and barked aggressively at walkers. On the right grows the little spruce my Parents planted when I was born.