Comments 12

Leaving home. For good.

The WideEyedParents must have been insane in 1980. Or incredibly tired of Philadelphia. Because they bought a ramshackle Victorian farmhouse that stank of dog pee and had questionable electrics in a rural New Jersey town along a remote marine estuary. The paint peeled. The ticks out in the yard bit. The lights flickered when the wind blew too hard. I for one, preferred to avoid the spooky front hall – still don’t like it to this day.


Our fictive kin the WideEyedHeinrichs, came for the first annual Memorial Day picnic in 1981. We kids drank ourselves sick on store brand orange and grape soda while our parents lounged on the epically huge screen porch. We didn’t know it yet in 1981, but that screen porch would become the summer epicenter of our lives there.  Last week I couldn’t watch when two of the WideEyedBrothers moved the old wicker furniture off of the porch and onto the moving truck.


We all expected my parents to die there. Not, like, tomorrow, but eventually. But then all of the WEFs moved away, Virginia, Arizona, New York (for now) and the parents were left rattling around with an attic full of junk and decades of memories tied into all of the rooms, decades of stuff weighing down the spaces. They are moving on.

The old blue boat we had left rotting in the yard for 30 years, gone. The brown boat we all water skied on during our high school and college years, gone. Brother J’s old blue pickup, still there. Maybe the new owners will like it.

I scrubbed and packed every room of the house last week. It went on the market today. Everyone believes I went down to help out my parents and sure, that’s true. I think I also went to spend time with the places and spaces of my childhood. My old bedroom is green now instead of a nasty peeling blue wall paper. But the light shines just as brightly into the room and when I crawled out the window onto the porch roof to wash windows, I could clearly smell and taste the Camel shorts I secretly smoked out there as a teenager. Yes, I got caught.


The living room, where I lurked as a sullen teen with MTV, is now an elegant parlor. The study hasn’t changed much since the Christmas we got Tetris and Brother M played it for 8 straight hours on the computer in there. When I was washing woodwork in the front hall, I snagged my fingernail on one of the nails that we used to hang our Christmas stockings as kids. When we moved there, we were seriously concerned that there was no fireplace for Santa, but allowed ourselves to be convinced that the steps in the front hall would work ok.


Hamish the Corgi and I walked down the lane every day while I was there. The same lane I ran down to catch the school bus and trudged home on after long, boring days of sitting still and listening, listening, listening. Hamish and I went down to the dock for dawn and evening light each day. I listened to the wind in the marsh grasses and together we took big sniffs of low tide. Birds cheeped. Fish jumped. The weirdly salty sound of the tide against the dock gurgled. One day was clear and still, another day I saw bands of fog that let in nature and the sky but erased the other houses down along the river. I think I realized why I feel so comfortable in the remote Aleutian Islands for research – they smell like home.


The home of my childhood is on the market. The house where my parents dreamed of a better life. The place where they gave us a good life. I hope it sells richly and fast, to a family looking for what we had there. Good bye Tuckahoe house. See you in my memories.


    • I sort of curious to see your thoughts and memories in 600 words or so. There’s a lot more in my mind – lots of years there. lots of things to remember.

  1. Elizabeth Funk says

    We have lots of memories visiting there over many years as the kids (ours and you) eventually grew up and even eventually moved out.. Leaves me a bit sad to think of no more reasons to visit South Jersey

    • I guess I’ll still go down to the shore to see the Spouse’s family, but I’ll have to not look over when I pass the old homestead.

  2. momtowideeyedspouse says

    Beautiful! How lucky the new owners will be to feel the fun and memories your family has left behind. For Sale: Older home that breathes goodwill; with a water view 🙂

    • Older home = restoration opportunity in Historic Tuckahoe. I like the part about goodwill – I felt a nice positive energy while I vacuumed baseboards and packed up the extra stuff.

  3. Bud aka Sack o' Flour says

    Wow. What a vast array of memories came flooding back to me; every memorial day weekend down to the tuckahoe farm for what seemed like a week vacation, the bottomless cooler of soda, Texas sheetcake, going out on the boat and dads hat flying off his head into the river and turning around to fish it out (and yes that happened multiple times in a trip), MGs in and behind the garage, gazillions of cats running loose including Palmer/Sidewinder, swimming in the river in my undies bc I forgot my swimsuit, sleeping on the porch with the “big kids”, intense trivial pursuit games and a whole lot more!… A lot of good memories of our families enjoying our time together. Thanks A.S. & U.J for hosting. Sad to think we won’t make Tuckahoe trips anymore. Scottsville doesn’t sound as cool but just as good memories I’m sure are to come. Lol

    • Thanks Bud, it’s good to hear your memories too. I had forgotten about the Texas sheetcake but now my teeth are aching with the remembered sugar crust of chocolate cake with chocolate icing with can after can of soda. I guess the parents figured we’d swim off all the sugar rush! Happy times,

    • Yep life sure was good in Tuckahoe especially with the annual Heinrich visit. Thanks also from UJ for reviving those memories. The best of everything. And yes that Texas sheetcake – – gimme more. Would be nice to be rich but could it be any better? Really?

  4. RenaissanceCroMagnon says

    Ferrets on the roof

    Toe pinching till blood blisters formed

    That scary hole in the living room floor

    Passing food out the kitchen window

    The painful waiting to go to the dock to swim

    Catching black snakes and spelling like reptile pee

    Trains that never ended

    Route 666

    The pink hair on C

    Sleeping on the porch

    Conversations by people way smarter than me

    Screen climbing cats

    Forgetting the grape soda while on the dock

    • Was there anything funnier than watching a cat splay footed on the side of a screen? I think that became a localized evolved adaptation. And, to this day I truly believe that your dad and my dad deliberately delayed going down to the dock so we could swim. In my memories they are smirking at each other. It’s weird to realize much happened on those annual visits and how much I remember when so much other stuff is just gone from my mind.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s