You never forget your roots, where you were built, where you founded. It is an anchor to your existence. For me, it was Big Red, the whole red barn, the house that M.C. Esher built.
My folks bought the place in 1967. While I haven’t lived there since the late 80s, my folks stayed there until two months ago. That longevity provided the building blocks for me and my brothers and sisters as well as an extra home for my great kids who carefully noted that “something about Grandma’s house just makes the bagels taste that much better.” They weren’t wrong. I feel the same way about the bourbon. My mom and dad built a pretty good world for us to get started in.
While it appears to be fairly straightforward in appearance, the 2 floors each at multiple levels which made the realtor’s description sort of funny. The second floor is on six different levels, the first only had a pedestrian four levels. M.C. Esher would have had a field day with those floor plans. The place has a lot of character which is appropriate as it housed and hosted so many.
The tree or trees intertwined on the right was the result of three year old me (and damn, I was adorable in 67) picking three samplings from other parts of the yard and thinking they would be good there next to the house. Must have been right, about that anyway.
After helping pack the move of my folks’ worldly goods, I made a return trip to collect some left behind items to take to their apartment. It was a little surreal to see something so familiar so empty. But much like my incredible folks, it deserves to work a little less hard.
Pretty great spot to get your start.
Thanks, Big Red, it was a hoot