5 minute read
You Can Go Back
BY JIM MATHIS
The holidays, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas, are all about going home, whether that means going back to the homestead farm that has welcomed generations, the house where you lived in high school, or maybe just visiting your parents in the condo they downsized to as empty nesters. The latter has been my version for some years now and there’s nothing wrong with that at all. It’s still a chance to share time and love with family, and that’s far more important than the structure in which we gather. Last year my beloved and I did something different though. We still travelled to Des Moines to visit my mom and sister for Thanksgiving, but rather than stay at a hotel near one of their respective condos, we took advantage of a unique Airbnb opportunity. The house where my family lived from 1966 to 1974 – I was roughly age 2 to 10 – was now available to rent by the night. How could I resist?
Now here’s where the story gets interesting; it’s not your ordinary house. This house on Urbandale Avenue in the Beaverdale neighborhood of Des Moines is one of a handful of small, round,
brick houses built just after World War II. The idea was that a round brick house would be more efficient to build, requiring fewer bricks than a rectangular house of similar size. Not having a flat, north-facing wall to catch the cold winter wind, it would be easier to keep warm too. What the builders didn’t account for is that the small, pie-shaped rooms and the rounded interior and exterior walls make placing furniture difficult.
Growing up in that round brick house was an adventure. There were many jokes about mom not being able to make me sit in a corner…because it didn’t have any. People were curious about what it was like, and what kind of people would live in a round house? The answer was our little family. It was arty and creative and fit our family to a T. OK, perhaps that’s an exaggeration. It was a tight fit when it was just mom, dad, my brother, and me. The two bedrooms are the same size, barely fitting a queen-sized bed for my folks. But somehow, we’d squeezed two twin beds in the room my brother and I shared. Once my sister came along, “the boys” moved to a make-shift room in the basement. My parents
pondered adding on, but the only logical way to expand was up, and they couldn’t find a contractor to add a second story. With the revelation that this cool round house didn’t fit us anymore, my family packed up and moved to the suburbs.
In the 45+ years since we moved from that house, I’ve driven by hundreds of times, often tempted to stop and knock on the door and ask for one more chance to walk through, relive a few memories, and see what had changed over the years. But I never did. Then my mom sent me a link to a news story about Airbnbs in the Des Moines area, and one of the homes featured was that quirky, little round house. It’s a popular rental so it took me more than a year to find a time when we could book it. With some early planning, we reserved it for the Thanksgiving weekend. I guess you can go back!
Entering the house after all that time, I was struck by the feeling it was much smaller than I’d remembered. Perhaps the fond memories made it seem larger than life, or maybe it was the change in perspective from a 10-year old to middle age. While the kitchen and bath had been updated, I could still remember the kitchen floor where my brother and I played with live lobsters dad had brought back from a business trip to Maine. Their claws were banded and they moved slowly across the linoleum, but as young boys we were fascinated by the giant bug-like creatures. Then mom sent us outside to play for a while. When we returned and washed up for dinner, the lobsters were ready to eat. It may sound cruel, but it was pretty cool to this little kid.
The dining room is right in the middle of the house, nestled in a curved interior wall, and it truly was the center of the home. It’s where we ate, played games and did homework. And it was at the round table that I recall one of my favorite meals. My brother was staying with a friend and my sister had yet to join the family, so my parents made a big deal about that particular Friday night being all about me. I got to choose the menu and like any good kid, I picked pizza! Dad stopped and picked up a pie on his way home from work, and as I recall, it took up most of the table. Again, the memory may be shifted by time and perspective, but there it was, a really big pizza, just for Mom, Dad and me! I ate and ate until I was literally sick, but it was my night, my pizza, and as it turned out, my turn to puke. Funny how what could be a bad memory lives in my mind as a great night!
Many things have changed; the mulberry tree in the back yard that stained so many bare feet and blue jeans was gone. The onebedroom shack of a house next door where Old Man Jones lived has been replaced by a beige two story. The elementary school I’d walked to just two blocks away is gone. Its land is now a park, and the giant hill we would climb and sled down must have eroded over the years, it’s not nearly the daunting peak it once was.
You can go back home, even if just for a couple of nights to relive a few memories. A trip down memory lane might be just what you need this winter.
Do yourself a favor, eat something good today.
When Jim’s not reliving well-worn memories, he runs ADwërks, an advertising and marketing communications agency, from HQ in downtown Sioux Falls (and from our team’s home offices, kitchen tables and spare rooms.)
