You can't go home again

Who says you can't go home again? Well, I guess it depends on what you're looking for.

We went to Houston earlier this month for my college class' 50th reunion. It was a great weekend, and I did enjoy seeing folks that I hadn't seen in all those years. There was certainly no question of how old everybody was. We're close friends with only one of the couples since that time, but have seen and enjoyed several others along the way. But it was fun to share memories and fun times with the fellow students that I hadn't seen for over 50 years - and to learn what's happened to them in the meantime.

Of course, when you haven't lived in a city for 45 years, things have changed a lots. Roads are moved, started, and stopped; businesses come and go; nothing looks as you remember it. We drove by the houses where we spent our high school and college years. Guess what?!? They weren't there. I grew up in a modest home, built just after WW2; 3 BR, 1 bath, LR, DR, kitchen, attached garage, medium-sized lot. It was new when we moved in, and my mother lived there until she retired and moved to TN in 1972. John's family moved in a few years later, in a slightly larger house, in a slightly more expensive neighborhood.

Both houses are gone, mine torn down along with the neighboring houses, replaced by 2-story, narrow, very close together houses. John's house and the house next door to it were torn down and replaced by a MacMansion. All that remains is the tree that he planted in the front yard in 1951.

Such is life.

Photos today are of where our growing-up houses are no more.

p.s. Sorry to be late posting today. For some reason, I couldn't get hooked up to the internet last night.