i was knocking around google maps and using the streetviews the other day and it had a weird effect on me. i looked up just about everything i could think of from when i was a kid; my mom's house, my friends' houses, my schools, my little league park, my grandparents' house, etc.
as i sat and looked at all of those places, i had a real physical reaction as tons of memories came rushing back. i think a big part of it is that i now live over an hour away from where i grew up and when i am over in that direction, it's usually to one relative's house and then right back home without any sight seeing, meaning i haven't seen any of these places since i moved away years ago.
one of the neat things about google streetviews is that you can "walk" around the area. i did that in the area around my mom's house and saw all the places i used to play and hang out. i stared at the paved lot next to the house where we used to play football, at the house across the street and the one next door where my buddies lived and all the places where we used to hide during hide and seek. i saw a place i used to go and sit when i was really sad (happened a lot growing up before the wonders of zoloft), and a lot of places i used to ride bikes with my friends or my sisters. i "walked" around my elementary school and lingered a bit on the view of the stairs and door that led to my kindergarten class.
oddly, one of the views that affected me the most was my grandparents' house in iowa. this part will probably bore most of you to tears, but i think my sisters and mom might like it.
when i was a kid, it was a nice modest neighborhood and they always kept their house and yard very tidy. it is now overgrown and run down, which is the way the neighborhood had started to go when they moved out in 1988 or 1989. once i got past the shock of seeing that, i was taken back for a few minutes to inside the house. i could hear their back screen door screech and slam and then hear the footsteps on the stairs leading up into the kitchen. in the winter, you left your shoes on the stairs there, as they would be covered in snow. i could see the yellowish carpet (similar to my mom's house) and feel the cozyness (is that a word) of their kitchen. i could see the green-backed swiveling kitchen chairs and the various things on the kitchen table. i remembered the view out of the window over the sink and how we used to have our hair washed while laying on that counter. my grandmother would tell us to turn and face mary's house or face the house on the other side; i'm blanking on that name. further into the house i remember the "front room" and the huge record player/cabinet thing they had. i remember the table that held magazines and these little toys called deeley bobbers. i can still picture the living room and it's non operational fireplace. i can clearly hear the punching of the old school remote control buttons that my granddad used to work like a wizard. this remote was attached by a cord and was about as big as a computer keyboard; hey it was like 1982. i can picture each of the bedrooms and the doorknob that reminded me of some expensive jewel. i remember the tiny bathroom that had only a tub and no shower and the way the water pressure out of the sink was really low. right next to the sink was a little pivoting panel to store toothbrushes (it looked like a mirror, but would swing open when you pushed on one side). i can still clearly see the layout of the basement and where the toys were kept, where the old school washtubs and wringer were, where my granddad would sit and clean fish after we caught them, and the door to the garage which led out to the old blue boat they had.
just looking at the outside of the house i can almost feel the texture of the stairs leading up to their wooden porch that had an astroturf like carpet on it. i looked at the side of the house and remembered that the laundry line for drying clothes was right back there.
my grandparents were rougly 800 miles away and i probably visited them once a year, but it's all so vivid and gives me such happy memories of being there, even though my grandparents, as it turns out, were pretty manipulative people. they tried to teach me golf by having me hit wiffle balls in the backyard. my grandfather pretty much taught me how to swim and made me go off a diving board the first time even though i cried like a sissy.
the whole experience of digging around my memories like so many boxes left in a dusty attic left me really bummed out for the rest of the day.
if i were a horseface like carrie bradshaw on sex & the city, this would be the time the camera zoomed in for a shot at the screen: what is it about looking back at childhood locations that makes us sad, even if they are associated with good times?
the obvious answer is that we'll never be at that place at that age again and we mourn the passing of our childhood and innocence. but there are lots of places that i'll never be again and seeing a lot of those didn't evoke nearly the same melencholy that others did. for example, looking at my first apartment complex didn't make me bat an eye. is it the age thing? are all childhood memories filtered through some kind of warm, glowing funhouse mirror that makes everything seem like it was puppies and rainbows all the time? i don't have the answer to that.
but one thing that stayed with me since my stroll down memory lane is that i'm thankful for all that i had growing up. and i'm thankful to be the owner of a brain that for whatever reason can retain very vivid memories of where i spent my time as a little boy.