The House that Built Me
Three Generations, One Home
Grandfather |
Dad |
Me |
Behind the Video
Every Halloween we would paint pumpkins. Being brought up in an artist's home, it was no wonder our frontyard resembled a graveyard during Halloween. The neighborhood loved it! At night, my father, cousin, or grandfather would hop in the casket to give trick-or-treaters a scare. This picture shows the front yard all dressed up however, it became a seasoned theme yearly, drawing in more people each year. Eventually, the entire yard was decked out! Mantua Township loved the spirit!
Hutchinson's Roadside Market
Season after season, year after year, Hutchinson's Roadside Market was part of my home. Our stand stood out front of our house for years. It first was led by my Grandmom Nellie, my grandfather's mother. After my great grandparents passed away, the house, built by their own hands, was passed down to my grandparents. My parents and siblings all lived together in this house, helping the buisness each year. In summer, we sold produce. Neighbors loved that we sold over ten types of apples! I still remember sitting on the bench, polishing them with a cloth. We called it a rag since it was an old shirt or ripped piece of quilt. My Mommom use to take all the bad apples and make the best Jewish Apple cake. Her homeade apple sauce was also the best and she was never stingy. The neighbors loved it when she cooked. The smell would travel down Rt. 45 and Mt. Royal Road. If there was any left over, which there usually never was, she would give dishes to our most loyal customers. My favorite summer memory was eating a huge piece of watermelon on the back of the pick-up truck.
Come Fall, our stand was full of pumpkins all shapes and sizes. Our biggest pumpkin weighed over 200lbs! Our family tradition was that each baby would be held inside the pumpkin! Produce continued through this season. I remember my Poppop always demolishing a Jersey Tomato with a touch of salt. While pumpkins were arranged by size, cornstalks lined the fences, while bales of hay were stacked high in the middle of the yard. I loved to make the corner displays. It was always so pretty around the start of each season.
The creativity continued to the Winter. My Poppop and Dad built, what we call, "the dungeon" under the house. Down the stairs of the cellar way, the workshop awaited! My Poppop and Dad actually made stations to work at. There, wreaths were made from scratch, along with grave blankets, and grave boxes. I still remember the smell of the kerosine heater, the bitter taste in the air, and the warmth between my fingers from my gloves. I use to sit and watch while they worked. First, my Poppop would cut the greens and clamp them together by stepping on the pedal under the work bench. He turned the wreath clockwise, clamping each part together. Then, he would pass the wreath to my dad and he would spray the wreath with white spray paint to create a snow accent. He would put it off to the side while he worked on the grave blankets. Meanwhile, my sister would decorate the wreathes with the bows we all made the night before at the dining room table. I always watched and awaited the time when I was "old enough" to do their jobs. My role was the cheerleader and holiday spiriteer! I usually got carried away when the Christmas carols were playing so sometimes, I'd watch from upstairs through the little hole in the kitchen my grandfather always promised he's fix. The smell of the greens went through the floor and smothered the entire house. This smell will forever be my cherished smell of Christmas.
Finally, Spring was always delightful! Flowers filled the front yard. Everyone always had a job, whether it was counting money, creating a friendly atmosphere with the customers, helping carry things to the car, taking the routined trip to Wawa across the street for lunch, or watering and organizing plants. My favorite job was going to the Swedesboro farm to pick up the plants and bring them back. During Fall, it was the best because we actually got to pull the Mums out of the ground and load them on the truck! My sister and I would sit on the back of the truck and pretend to fall off! We loved riding in the back of the truck in the fields. Sometimes, before laws were passed, we would ride all the way home in the back of the truck. But, we had sit on our butts, and if we sat on the wheel well, we had to sid in the cab of the truck. One time, my Poppop even let me drive the truck in the field!!!
Come Fall, our stand was full of pumpkins all shapes and sizes. Our biggest pumpkin weighed over 200lbs! Our family tradition was that each baby would be held inside the pumpkin! Produce continued through this season. I remember my Poppop always demolishing a Jersey Tomato with a touch of salt. While pumpkins were arranged by size, cornstalks lined the fences, while bales of hay were stacked high in the middle of the yard. I loved to make the corner displays. It was always so pretty around the start of each season.
The creativity continued to the Winter. My Poppop and Dad built, what we call, "the dungeon" under the house. Down the stairs of the cellar way, the workshop awaited! My Poppop and Dad actually made stations to work at. There, wreaths were made from scratch, along with grave blankets, and grave boxes. I still remember the smell of the kerosine heater, the bitter taste in the air, and the warmth between my fingers from my gloves. I use to sit and watch while they worked. First, my Poppop would cut the greens and clamp them together by stepping on the pedal under the work bench. He turned the wreath clockwise, clamping each part together. Then, he would pass the wreath to my dad and he would spray the wreath with white spray paint to create a snow accent. He would put it off to the side while he worked on the grave blankets. Meanwhile, my sister would decorate the wreathes with the bows we all made the night before at the dining room table. I always watched and awaited the time when I was "old enough" to do their jobs. My role was the cheerleader and holiday spiriteer! I usually got carried away when the Christmas carols were playing so sometimes, I'd watch from upstairs through the little hole in the kitchen my grandfather always promised he's fix. The smell of the greens went through the floor and smothered the entire house. This smell will forever be my cherished smell of Christmas.
Finally, Spring was always delightful! Flowers filled the front yard. Everyone always had a job, whether it was counting money, creating a friendly atmosphere with the customers, helping carry things to the car, taking the routined trip to Wawa across the street for lunch, or watering and organizing plants. My favorite job was going to the Swedesboro farm to pick up the plants and bring them back. During Fall, it was the best because we actually got to pull the Mums out of the ground and load them on the truck! My sister and I would sit on the back of the truck and pretend to fall off! We loved riding in the back of the truck in the fields. Sometimes, before laws were passed, we would ride all the way home in the back of the truck. But, we had sit on our butts, and if we sat on the wheel well, we had to sid in the cab of the truck. One time, my Poppop even let me drive the truck in the field!!!
Why sell it?
This was not a decision any of us wanted to ever make. Unfortunately, my father passed when I was in fifth grade and with much despair, my mother left us shortly after. With my father being my grandparent's only child, that was the beginning of the loss of the stand and the home's happiness. Although my grandparents received custody of me and my siblings, the heartache and pain of loosing their only child was their ultimate downfall. Falling into a deep depression, the stand eventually closed. They grew more tired and sick each day. My older sister moved to Pennsylvania to start a new family, not realizing she would soon be taking care of her grandparents that once took care of her. With the empty house left in Mantua, it was time to sell it after four years of being unoccupied. I fought and I fought. I even thought about keeping it as my own. (Trust me, if I could, I would.) Because there was so much damage from it being broken into and flooded, the cost was too much for me to bear. The "For Sale" sign went up and the house was sold.
Surrounding StreetsI will never forget the names of the streets surrounding my home. These streets were once the streets that guided me to my home, now they are the streets that lead me to my new home and my new life.
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