Remembering My First House

Last Thursday I awakened to the sound of the phone ringing, and the words, "good morning, grandma", from son Brian. He and his wife were the proud parents of two baby boys, Ryan and Spencer. How exciting! I was at my mom's house, so I decided to take a long walk before driving to the hospital. I put on my walking shoes, and headed for our old neighborhood in Brentwood, the place I had grown up myself, and later, the place Ron and I had bought our first home.

Brentwood Glen is a small neighborhood of about 14 streets, just west of the 405 and south of Sunset Blvd. in Los Angeles. My parents bought their first home there 62 years ago, and I lived in the neighborhood until I was 11 years old. Then 25 years after they bought their home there, Ron and I also bought our first home in the very same neighborhood. We paid $32,000 for our small home. Today, comparible houses are $1 million. Anyway, I decided to walk the neighborhood and see how things have changed.

First, many of the houses have been torn down and rebuilt with beautiful two story homes, using every inch of the 50X105 lot. Many of the other homes have not been torn down, but merely restored and spruced up. I walked down our old street where we lived for four years and where my firstborn son, David began his childhood. There was a young lady and two boys coming out of our old house, so I decided to stop and chat.

She told me she had lived there for five years, and she was in a hurry but that if I returned another day she would be happy to show me all the improvements that had been made to the house in almost 40 years. I said I didn't know when I would be back because I was on my way to the hospital to see my twin grandsons that had just been born. Then she tells me that she is a pediatrician and is just on the way to the hospital to see twins that have just been born and are her new patients. I thought this is too much of a coincidence. Could she possibly be my grandkids pediatrician? No, she was not, but it was such a funny set of events.

So, she took a few minutes to walk me through the house and show me how it had changed over the years. It was much improved over the time we lived there, but just being in the house brought back a flood of emotions and memories. I could remember clearly the day we moved in, the day we brought David home from the hospital, the many times I'd come home home and several babies from the neighborhood and the babysitters would be sitting on the lawn and having a grand time. I remember the wonderful friends we made in the neighborhood, and I especially remember the day we moved. Our moving truck didn't show up, so the whole neighborhood got together and helped. They rented a truck and with my father and Ron in charge, got our entire house onto the rental truck and into the new house in just a few short hours. What a memory.

What a great walk I had. Lots of great memories were recalled. Then I got in the car, drove to Woodland Hills to meet my new grandchildren, with whom I hope to have many more wonderful memories.