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Let’s play.

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It won’t hurt, I promise.

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Sadly, I don’t remember a thing.

My maternal grandparents moved back to Austria before I was born and we never visited. My paternal grandfather died when my father was 10 years old, so I certainly never knew him. And though I was 3 when my paternal grandmother died, I have absolutely no memory of her either.

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I’m told this is a picture of her standing in the backyard rose garden of this house….

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But honestly, neither the person nor the house stir any warm fuzzies in my prefrontal cortex.

When my mother died almost a decade ago we took a trip back to my hometown in New Jersey. The state gets a bad rap, and though most of it is well deserved… there are some lovely areas scattered here and there and thankfully I grew up in one.

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We walked north of town…

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Along the river….

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And found my grandparent’s house.

Still in the thick of early grief for my mother, I stood outside this nicely restored and clearly well loved home and cried. The new owners saw me, came outside to investigate and warmly welcomed us … complete strangers! …. inside for a full three story tour.

Don’t believe everything you hear about people from Jersey. This couple was grace personified.

We exchanged stories and histories and they were very sweet to an only child who had just lost her mom. The new owners expressed interest in my old family photos of the house and I promised to email them when we got back home.

So while I don’t have any grandparent memories of this particular house?

I do have nice new memories of the compassionate and caring young couple who live there now…. and that’s fine with me.

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40 thoughts on “Let’s play.”

  1. Jersey gets more of a bad rep for Drivers than in general of course I have family from Jersey. I can vividly recall my maternal grandparents home (never knew Paternal) unlike you the area where both I grew up and my grandparents grew up have gone seriously down hill and don’t feel safe. I definitely DON’T think I’d get the same kind of experience. Allentown in general has gone to hell in the last 35 yrs

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    1. My little town was lovely then and still retains its sleepy character. A restored old downtown area, numerous parks …. they say you can’t go home again but not much had changed.
      ❣️

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  2. How nice of the owners!

    I remember my maternal GMa had a 2-story victorian style home. I remember it being big, and it was dark inside. Her neighbor had kids I’d olay with and have us frozen Hostess cupcakes.

    My paternal grandfather lived in a variety of crappy rundown homes in crappy rundown neighborhoods.

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  3. My Father’s Mother was a mean, nasty woman. She lived in an apartment in San Francisco. Everything she owned was Pink (which is one of the reasons I Hate that color). What’s funny is, I have almost done the same thing..in Purple! She also had like 6 locks on her door. As a child, I was afraid of not being able to get out, if there were any emergency.

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  4. What beautiful a beautiful memory of grace and kindness from the couple~the home is stunning. Your grandmother reminded me of mine (she would be 111 this year, if alive). I remember their barn, most of all. The smells, the garden. What a beautiful area and pictures you shared!

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  5. What a lovely story 🙂💕🙏 I’m so glad you got such a warm welcome AND a tour! What a gift!!!

    I am blessed to have lovely memories of both my grandparents’ homes. My childhood was a bit turbulent but both homes were a haven for me. There was a smell in my maternal grandparents’ home I have never found anywhere else: my grandfather built it and whatever wood he used, especially for the kitchen cupboards, had a fragrant smell I have never found anywhere else. This was a lovely trip down memory lane this morning. Thank you so much for this…xoxo 🙏💕🙂

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    1. My childhood was carefree and idyllic. All my memories of living in this town are wonderful. Things fell apart in later years when we moved and my father died, but I always smile when I think of New Jersey.

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  8. Your grandparents home is just gorgeous River. And the new owners were definite good people to bring you in and let you reminisce and then have a tour of the home. Losing a parent is something we never get over no matter how much time goes by. To his dying dad my dad spoke about his mom, he loved her so much as I loved my dad. He was, a bit of a mommas boy I can say that and as my mom will confirm as well lol 😆.

    My maternal grandmother was the sweetest, most loving person I’d ever met. She had a beautiful home in San Bernardino California, her backyard was full of fruit trees, lemon, orange and grapefruit. My step granddad would pick grapefruit for breakfast every morning. She had avocado trees that lined the perimeter of her yard with rose bushes that winded their way through her yard to make a beautiful walkway throughout. Her house felt comfortable and smelled like Dove soap and I remember watching my first scary movie with her. Bella Lugosi’s Dracula in black and white while she made me Mexican hot chocolate.
    My paternal grandmother was just as loving and kind, she loved chocolate (I think I inherited that trait) and dressed up as Santa for Christmas for her grand kids. Her house was really small, it was only a four room house. I’ll never understand how my dads parents raised six kids in that four room house? But her kitchen always smelled good, she was always cooking or baking and had coffee on the stove all day long because my grand pops and uncle drank coffee all day long. She made homemade bread and tortillas every day. Her garden was just as beautiful, roses, iris, ad she even had an olive tree at one point. Sadly they both died when I was very young but I am lucky to have these memories of them and my granddads to be able to tell my boys about them.

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  10. … always a parlor even if she had to close off a corner of a living room.
    She had a red Persian rug given to her by an unnamed movie star for doing emergency costume alterations.
    The house was always 85(°)F. Summer or winter
    She had a lead backed upright grand piano that broke the floor boards
    She hated drinkers, but went through a bottle of Lydia Pinkham’s Tonic a week. It contained unicorn root, life root, black cohosh, pleurisy root, and fenugreek seed preserved in 19 percent alcohol. (Yep. That was the lable!)

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  11. You want the real version, or the “nice” version. I was born in 1949. My parents were born in 1907, and 1908 respectively. My grandparents, they were born somewhere between 1870 and 1880. Records are scarce. My mother was born in a town then owned by Germany, but in present times it is/would be in Poland if it were still a town. I visited it in 1986. There was a marker on the road to say where it had been, it was carpet-bombed during World War ll. Not as much left as a fireplace or a tree. A farmer’s field when I saw it.
    My father’s parents? She was a Saulteaux maid who took up with a Métis man. Seven kids later my grandfather disappeared and never as much as wrote a letter. She found out later he was not who he said he was, a fugitive from white law for having taken part in the 1885 Saskatchewan Rebellion. He hzd so many aliases no one knew his real name. They had been renting a house in Winnipeg, but with him gone,she was thrown into the streets by her white landlotd. Eventually she met and married a lonely Scotsman whom I was told was my grandfather. I met him once or twice as a very young child, but I have no memories of who he was or where they lived. Then he too died, and my grandmother shortly after. So no ancestral homes to visit. No grandparents of note to remember. A mother who died young. And a father who should never have been born.
    Gotta love history!

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  12. My Maternal GM had lovely Row home in the Syrian section of Allentown Pa. She grew grapevines on the back yard fence, to make homemade stuffed grape leaves. She had a racist Aunt Jemima toaster cover in the kitchen, a crawlspace up the stairwell with the entrance covered by a painting my Uncle Bob did as a kid in the 40’s of a Scifi pulp Novel cover of some kids pointing at a dinosaur. She had very cool landscape mural photo wallpaper, a victrola…I miss that house it was so cool.

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    1. My mother was born in Allentown to Austrian immigrant parents staying with German family members.
      Dinosaur murals. That would have been right up my alley as a kid. I loved them. Still do!

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  13. My Grandmother lived in a gray wooden four-plex on a brick street in Cumberland, Maryland. She lived in one of the upstairs units, along with my uncle across the hall. I didn’t know the people downstairs. The front door opened into a dim, stifling entry that smelled of roasted carpet. My grandparents were divorced, so I never saw them at the the same time. This wasn’t exactly a joyful time.

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  14. My grandparents house was located in the very lovely Ewing Township, New Jersey. I spent a lot of time there growing up and even into my 20s, so I’ve got many great memories. The basement with its old piano – the fireplace in the kitchen – the enormous garden on the adjoining spare lot – but mostly just the smell of the place. I miss it.

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