Once upon a time there was a beautiful house. In Peabody, Kansas. It was majestic and charming, full of rooms and windows. Made of brick and adorned with ivy. It has a deep history in our family. It is treasured for that history and all the memories it holds. It is where my mother grew up.
My grandfather traded it with an aunt for a much smaller home in 1957, I think?
As a young girl, my mother got locked out on the balcony by her mean older brothers.
My parents had their wedding reception there, and made a crazy getaway for their honeymoon after all parties thought they'd blocked my Dad's car.
In 1986, my Papa fell off the roof and landed on the concrete on his feet, shattering them. (Miraculously that was all, and he's still walking just fine!)
My brother and I spent many weekends there with Nana and Papa – we would call my folks long distance, play endless card games, "cook" in the kitchen, play the baby grand, take Chrissy dog for walks, and have Nana lovingly wave cigarette smoke away from our faces, saying "Bless your heart..."
My mom's brothers came to town recently and a cousin of theirs has purchased the home and is furnishing it as a bed and breakfast. We are thrilled it's back in the family. Here, a few token pictures from our visit to 501.
Those "mean brothers" turned out to be very nice uncles:
Whenever I see this view of the house I think of the story my Nana told about how she was cleaning and a soliciting woman rang the front door bell, Nana answered, declined whatever she was peddling and went back to cleaning. The doorbell rang again, except the woman was at this side door, thinking the large home was divided into multiple residences.
The Patriarch of the family, Ross the Boss.
