https://www.redfin.com/LA/Port-Allen/4338-Arlington-Ave-70767/home/84784025

Parents bought their house 45 years ago (I was 5). It was in terrible condition, dad fixed it all up and added the den (room with the fireplace). Also added a nice patio, not shown very well in the pics. His "man cave" in the backyard is pretty nice.

My room was the one with blue curtains, only it looked completely different then. I had a cool king-sized waterbed (purchased from a neighbor) and posters (including black light) on the walls. My last 5 years living there (up until age 20 when I got married) were pretty sweet, I'll miss visiting the house, I guess.

I figure at least some of you have gone through this, or witnessed your parents going through it, letting go of your childhood home.

It will get even tougher when you drive by it one day and see a brand new family living in it. It is a good thing to see, but it feels strange.

I spent my first years in a house in upstate N.Y. I remembered it having a big front porch..no heat upstairs the heat came up through registers in the floor and a skylight in the kitchen that let light down in...This was in the 50's...About 5 years ago me and my woman decided to go to Niagara Falls and I took a side trip to see it...Man what a change it looked like a stinking crack house no front porch any more and it was July and Christmas light were still lit..Looked like shanty town,,But the house was real old and it looked like it was not repaired since the 20's Only good thing was the town bandstand where they had concerts on Thursday was still there and they still have them..I was glad to get back to Ohio

Been through it with my mother's parents, my mother (dad passed long before), and two aunt's houses (where I also spent a lot of time). Having no living relatives, besides my brother, means that my own home is now the only place left that I can think of as home.

My first childhood home was knocked down a few years ago, so have not seen it since 1972 the last time I was past it before it was knocked down. I lived there until I was 3 when my parents bought a semi-detached house in another town a few miles away, I lived there, my brother was born there and my parents sold it in 1972 and moved about 300miles north.

In 1980 I was down in the town with my first wife and noticed they had a B&B sign outside, as we were a day early arriving we decided to spend the night in the old house, - it had changed! We got my old room, it was strange being in it and there being a sink in there too, it was a bittersweet visit. Next night we went and stayed with my uncle as arranged.

Many years later I was visiting the old town on business and found that my Gran & Grandad's old house was doing B&B too, so I booked a room there, while it had different decoration the layout etc. had not been changed, I enjoyed my stay and had a few further stays while there on business. Now the house has been divided up into 4 flats and while it looks the same outside it is altered inside.

My Grandfather bought the house in 1919 and my Uncle sold the house in 1976, I now own the house my Uncle bought afterwards, I bought it in 2010 and have been busy renovating it over the past few years.

My brothers and I sold our childhood home/farm last year, 2 years after my mother passed. I drove by Friday, it's a sad thing but time moves on.

My folks sold the house I grew up in just after I'd left for college at 19. I've never lived in their current place but as long as they're there I'll consider it 'home'.

It's quite depressing looking on streetview and seeing how run down the new owners have let it get over twenty years. Thankfully I can't see inside. Hope it doesn't go on the market cos I know I wouldn't be able to resist looking.

The house that my parents owned was sold a few years ago but I was already living in the UK with my family by then. According to my wife, the area was really deteriorating and the last time I was there (about 3 years ago), the neighborhood has really changed. What used to be the "outskirts" of the city now looked like downtown... what used to be a lot of vacant lots and big coconut tree fields are now 3-5 storey buildings selling car parts, construction materials, and other hardware. I wasn't able to witness it but apparently, while the house was elevated about 3/4th of a meter from the road, when it rains, the area floods and it gets so bad that it gets into the house.

However, I think that because there's not much regarding good memories of that house, I don't really care about it.

My uncle's house, on the other hand, that's a different story. This is a big house and we'd go there either during summer vacation or Christmas vacation and I'd get to play with my cousins, stay up late, and all the fun stuff. So many happy memories in that house.... when I was applying to go to the UK, I needed a place to stay in Manila and on two occasions, I had to stay in that house. By this time, all of my relatives in the area have relocated to the USA and my uncle's family had rented the house out to a group of call center agents. They've also stripped the house of everything and had transferred it to a newer townhouse so the old house was just a skeleton of itself. If you think it's strange to look at your old house from the OUTSIDE, imagine living in it from the INSIDE. What used to be linoleum tiled floors now was bare cement. A big cupboard full of dishes and other items now stood empty.... it was left there as it wouldn't fit in the townhouse. The kitchen, oh, I cried when I saw the kitchen... one of my chores before was to wash the dishes and spent many hours in the kitchen. On one occasion, I slept in the upstairs master's bedroom which only had a bed in it. It was so empty it would've made an excellent setting for a horror movie. The bedroom had a massive walk-in closet as well... so strange to open all those cabinets and drawers and finding them empty even though I knew they would be. On the second occasion, I slept in what used to be my "hip" cousin's bedroom and I spent a good time of the night just imagining where stuff was. Where the clothes used to be. Where his full-of-lights Hi-Fi sterio used to be, which also doubled as a night light . Where his gym equipment used to be. They had left the shelves on one part of the wall and my mind's eye could still see what was on the shelves.

I was so glad to leave the place as I felt so depressed afterwards. If I were stupidly rich, I would've bought that house, had everything returned to it as it was, then mothball the whole thing.

On the instances where I got to stay in the townhouse (they rent it out as sorta B&B), while the building looked different, the place smelled familiar due to the old antiques that have been transferred there and while the inside layout was foreign, the decor were old friends. It's like they ripped the heart and soul of the old house and put it in the townhouse, but I'm still sad to see the old house go.

Sometimes I think I'm too sentimental....

I grew up as a dependent in an air force family, so we were moving house every couple of years all through my childhood as my dad got new postings. As a result, I don't get particularly sentimental about houses I've lived in, my parents didn't really settle until I'd left and got my own place. The last house my wife and I had we lived in for 10 years and started our family there (the longest I've ever stayed in one place), and while I've visited the street a couple of times, it's to see our old friends in town rather than mooch about the old house.

My childhood consisted of living in a bunch of different apartments so I never gained an attachment to any one place. In that sense my experience is similar to that of U-96.

I've enjoyed reading the comments and stories, thanks.

The main things my parent's house has going for it is the public school system and surrounding industry growth, it's a real hotspot for housing right now. The parish has only two public high schools, Brusly (their district) and Port Allen (next town over). Brusly is known for good public schools, while Port Allen is known for the exact opposite. I first went to Brusly schools until mid-11th grade, then transferred to Port Allen while living with my aunt and uncle during the school year, but it wasn't bad then.

A kinda recent story...

Wife and I drove out to our old school one Saturday, sitting on what was our favorite bench during recess, arguing over where our first kiss took place in the parking lot. Then it occurred to me...what a dump. "Let's get the hell out of here!" Lol.

Open house today went great, the interest is very promising.

My grandma's house, where I spent my early childhood years, and that has been in the family since 1963, was just sold 2 months ago.

Lots of memories, and a total heartbreaker for me, especially since I still live nearby.

A couple of my other family members and I looked into buying it but it went for $1.6 million and we would have all had to have sold our properties and then would have been forced to live in a ancient tiny 2 bedroom 1933 vintage house that needs lots of work.

Short of a lottery win I don't think we're getting it back.

I live across the highway from where I grew up. My parents sold the house and property to a mining company about twenty years ago. Now the house, my grandparent's house and all the barns are gone. Just a big pit there now. I've pretty much gotten used to it, but sometimes I get to the end of my lane and look across the road and wish it were all still there. Still, it belonged to my parents and at the time it was a good move for them financially. They got to build themselves a new house and live there last years in it.

Parents sold their home almost 10 years ago.

Dad designed and built the house. They had lived the house for 60 years.

It is now a rental and doesn't look as nice as back in the day.

Home I grew up in, was born November 26th 1961 is still there. My mother tried to keep it going until giving it up and move into an assisted living apt.
She sold it about 7 years ago. We drove by it about it 5 years ago and the entire neighborhood had declined so much. And was even worse seeing
what had happened to the house I have so many memories from turned into dump of dead cars and they cut down all the trees that were huge.
Was the last time I will ever return there. Life moves on, and looking back only hurt. Its come full circle now, we have been prisoners of this job
for 24 years now. Vacation begins June 18th to the July 1st. Time to make that move.

When I was five years old I helped my dad plant a Japanese Maple tree in the front yard. I vividly remember it being after dinner in the late spring/early summer and it was warm and bright out. I started the hole because Dad asked where I wanted to plant it. He then finished digging and I helped carry the tree into it's place (as much as a five year old could... and I was probably more in the way than not). I watered it, patted down the soil and then asked how long before it gets big enough to climb. It was our tree. I was always proud of that tree because it was something we did together. It grew tall (for a Japanese Maple) and strong.

My parents moved and the house traded hands several times. It felt strange because it was the house I grew up in and had so many memories but that tree was a constant. The new owners built onto the house, added a family room, took down the fences, put a bay window in. BUT the tree remained.

Dad died last November 21st. Last week was his birthday and I decided to take a ride by the old home. It was gone. The F$^&&ing tree was gone. It couldn't have been more than a few weeks removed. There was no grass. No seedlings; just a filled hole. I cried. A admit it. I cried. If Dad hadn't passed in the late fall I would have stripped off a small branch and leaves to put into the coffin. Dad worked on the road a lot so time with him at five years old was precious. That's why the tree meant so much... and now, like Dad, it's gone.

It's funny what we look at through the memories or our life and determine what helps make a home. A tree... just a tree but it was part of my childhood home. OUR home.


EDIT: Looking back and counting; the tree was 50 years old. Where did the time fly?

I have the exact opposite feelings.

As a little kid, I was an Army brat, so no real connection to government quarters we wouldn't be staying in for long.

When my parents divorced, Mom got a little apartment for us. We had good times more than bad, but the place itself wasn't anything to pine over.

She remarried to a complete tool, and it pisses me off that that super crappy house hasn't been razed to the ground. The best memory I have of that house was when I walked out of it with a packed bag.

Now, then, our current house is full of loving memories, but in the end it's just a house. It's the people inside that make it special.

You Can't Go Home Again

Thomas Wolfe


Somebody had to print his quote. Actually, it was the title of one of his books, I think.

Thomas Wolfe is a relative, by marriage but not always correct. We live in my Grandmother's house, purchased in 1924 for $2500 at a tax auction. My whole family, on my Dad's side lived here at one time or another, including Mom and Dad after WWII, for a brief time. In 1992 my last living relative asked me if I would like the place, and once she agreed to comparable value to my cousins she gave it to us over 4 years to avoid the tax bite. Many of the furnishings are original. My uncle, an English professor at Oswego NY, retired here and collected oriental rugs and Sallie Middleton prints. He was a Wolfe scholar and is brother in law who also lived here was Wolfe's cousin. They both had interesting and very different incites to Wolfe. The aunt who was our benefactor was married to Tony Myrer, the author of Once an Eagle, and The Last Convertible. She had married a submariner during the war and he never returned from a mission. This place is full of memories. Our sons moved here while in middle school and elementary for the younger, and as the forth generation may choose to live here.

The house I grew up in, across town is now owned by a nice couple who have made some changes, but most are really nice. I mow for them and am their neighborhood historian and over 50 of our lawn accounts are in close proximity, many I have mowed since the 1960's. Since I remember those houses from further back than the current occupants I can tell them lots of info and stories about how it used to be.

Dang, I'm getting old...
Beats the alternative!

Multiple offers, SOLD! Man, that didn't take long. Now we just have to finish helping my parents move to our place. We're all pretty excited right now, this is going to make life much easier for all of us.

I turn 50 on Aug. 31, same day as my parent's 60th wedding anniversary. We're going to take them out somewhere nice and celebrate together. This Jan. wife and I celebrate our 30th, hard to believe they have us beat by twice the number of years.