One afternoon while at my mom and dad's house there was a loud knock at the front door. I rushed to get it since Dieter was taking his afternoon nap and I did not want him to wake. I opened the door to a camera crew and a microphone in my face. They asked if I had heard of Story Trek on BYUtv (which I had not) and if they could interview me to hear my story. I agreed. They sat up their equipment in my parent's living room and they interviewed me. My story is super boring, but it was a fun experience. My story will air some time in October.
You don't know me. After hearing about this from my second cousin yesterday, I made it my mission to track this video down. I'd never heard of Story Trek. More importantly, however, I never imagined that the sight of an opening door could bring me to tears. You, opening the door to your childhood home, did just that.
ReplyDeleteYour story is not "super boring"; it's given me something I've longed for for decades: A miniscule peek inside your home. A peek inside the home that was built by my Grandpa, Allen Reynolds, for his wife, Kate. Kate who shares the name with my only little girl. And the home where my mother not only grew up, but where she was married to my father, fifty years ago last March. Your parents' home, you see, is and always will be, my "Grandma's House".
I remember when I was little, I awaited eagerly to see the giant "B" on the mountain. A representation for Beaver, of course, but, more importantly, for "boing-boing," what I called the trampoline housed in the barn. How no one ever died jumping from the loft onto that thing is still a miracle.
I remember the bottom drawer closest to the stairway heading upstairs that held Grandma's toys, waiting for me, the youngest grandchild. In particular a little pink, plastic sink. As soon as I got to Grandma's, I would color a tiny little paper fish and float it in the sink for the remainder of my visit. I also loved her puzzles, but dreaded having to go into the attic closet to get them. One day a bat flew out of that attic and directly into my Grandma's blue hair.
I remember the white bench/swing on the east side of the home. I remember the canal across the street where my brother and I caught a fish one day. I remember Grandma's room, right out front and to the east of the family room, where she always had mints in the base of her nightstand lamp. I remember running past the basement stairs at 850 MPH so the monsters wouldn't get me. I remember only going in that terrifying basement a couple of times, and being amazed by the secret passageway from the coal room to the storage room. I remember sitting on Grandma's couch, which is now in my mother's home, listening to records filled with stories and songs for children. The television reception there was terrible, and I think the only thing I ever saw on my Grandma's TV is a Doublemint Gum commercial. I remember it was the only time I saw a color, green, through the television static.
There's so much more . . . and it all came pouring back to me at the sight of that door. I know the house has changed dramatically since the days of my memories, but GRANDMA'S DOOR is the SAME. I can't tell you how many dozens of now grown grandchildren still detour off of I-15, just to drive past that house. Your house. Grandma's house. Every single one of us has repeatedly fought the urge to knock on that door . . . just to see.
So thank you, for opening the door to a television crew to tell your story. So that I could see it and see that door open, almost like it was for me.
Kristy,
ReplyDeleteSorry it has taken me so long to respond, but I do want to say Thank You for this comment. It really did make my day! I remember the day my parents got the keys to our "new house". Walking in the back door (we were told that friends and family always entered in the back door at this house and we've kept that tradition going...we rarely use the front door and we know when the door bell rings for the front door that it is someone we really don't know too well) I knew that this house was magical. The upstairs has a cute little room, with a cute little door that we children quickly claimed as our play room. The kitchen was the biggest kitchen I had ever been used to. The basement was terrifying! However, it has been updated a bit and is very cozy. In fact, one of the bedrooms down there became mine while I was in high school. The passage way from the coal room to the storage room was incredible. I was pretty sure I was going to find secret passage ways everywhere in the house. I'm a little disappointed that I have not. The barn!!! Each of my siblings has had a turn calling that barn our own. It is affectionately known as "the hut". So many shenanigans! And how nobody ever got hurt is beyond me.
Your grandfather created a super cool house! I'm so grateful that I was able to grow up there and create memories there just as you did.
Please stop by, when you have the urge. My parents would love to have you visit.
Jen,
DeleteI'm stuck at work and bored out of my mind on what has been a very quiet night as a 911 dispatcher. I decided to go look at all the blog links I've saved over time and see if there was anything worth reading. And, TA-DAH!, I found your reply! I am so glad you got my comment and took the time to respond.
That house really is, as you said, "magical". I love that you mentioned that everyone comes and goes through the back door. I think I only saw the front door open ONCE, and I still remember how much it stuck and how stiff it was, because no one ever used it. As for the cute little room with the cute little door upstairs, that was the scary puzzle room and where the bat flew out of! Grandma's kitchen WAS huge; I was always fascinated by her dishwasher (we didn't have one until I was twelve), as well as the super cool bins for flour and such. I'm glad the basement has been cozily updated! I will never forget the cold, cold floor and the demons that I KNOW lived down there! I have to ask, is the hallway bathroom still pink? Because it was awesome. :)
I am so grateful your family loves that house as we did, and still do. And thank you for the invite to stop by. Beaver will always be a special place to me.