You can go home again

All this remeniscing about riding up and down in front of my house got me thinking about that house I grew up in. Well, you know how they tell you that everything is on the internet, you just have to know how to find it. So, I typed in Marshfield Hills, Mass. and started looking. There was a house that had sold in June and it looked somewhat like what I remembered. I googled the satellite photo and matched up the roads from memory and this had to be the house. I went back and found another website where the realtor had posted pictures. The kitchen was a modern wonder with skylights and a stainless refridgerator and a Viking stove. The house that had the most modern conveniences of the time now had them again. Then I saw the living room and could not believe my eyes. Where we had wall to wall carpeting you could see a beautiful wood floor. And then I saw the fireplace. The man who had built the kitchen cabinets had made the built in wall surrounding the fireplace. And there it was exactly the same as when I was a little girl over sixty years ago. I remember the top left cabinet held the record player, a concept way before its time. We had very few records but I remember one was Caruso and one was "Little Jimmy Brown" that I still know all the words to. You can see through the doorway into what we called the sunroom. Children didn't go in the living room or the dining room except on special occasions. The sunroom had the television. I grew up with Hopalong Cassidy and the Lone Ranger, Howdy Doody and Clarabelle the clown, Kookla, Fran and Ollie and test patterns when there wasn't anything being broadcast. Now there are hundreds of stations and "nothing to watch". For us, sometimes there really wasn't anything to watch except a test pattern. So don't let anyone tell you that you can't go home again. You can, if only in your memories.