This is where it all began. My grandfather built this house for his growing family over sixty years ago. He was no stranger to hard work, and instilled those same values in my dad. This is the only house I know my grandparents to live in, and at least three generations came through this house.
I can recall all of the priceless memories here. My grandfather taught me how to balance a checkbook, the importance of voting in an election, and most importantly Christ. My grandparents attended church every Sunday, and on time!
My father grew up in this house. Growing up we referred to it as “Granny’s house” but after my grandparents passed away I noticed that my father would simply call it “Main Street.” My dad departed the house after being drafted in the military, and returned after raising a family. I would say that was shortly before my grandfather passed away. It became his project after he retired. He worked on remodeling the house, started from the upstairs and worked his way downstairs.
My dad would always say that you should never be bored, because there’s always something to be done.
My father resided in this home until it became too much for him when he became ill.
As time goes on, and loved ones pass away I would say that it’s great to reflect on precious memories such as the ones I’m recalling today.
I ride by the house every time I visit my hometown. I am reminded of my grandparents and my dad. A symbol of triumph, legacy, and love.
This place will always be home. A piece of my heart will always belong to Main Street.