That's how we described it to people when we were kids. "It's the white house with red shutters." The phrase still rolls off my tongue as though I was born with the ability to say it. My parents moved to this house before I was born. The road, I believe, was gravel back then. There were four or five neighbors on one side of us, all other sides were fields.That was decades ago, but it was a great place to be a kid. We played everywhere. I pretended to be everything from an army man behind Russian lines (remember when our enemies were civilized enough just to threaten us all of the time?) to a basketball coach who had to come into the game to hit the winning shot.
By the time I outgrew that kind of playing the city of Indianapolis was outgrowing her urban borders. A hardware/construction supply store sprouted in the field across the street. A used car auction grew hideously large next door. The apartments around the corner grew angrier in nature (or, maybe they were always like that, but the kids I went to school with always seemed little more than rascally).
We felt insulated from the decay. Shoot, we were insulated from the decay. Even when the strip clubs moved into an area a few miles away, even as Lafayette Square Mall became a dangerous place, even as new buildings were built and old ones abandoned, we went right on living just fine in our white house with red shutters.
When Cindy and I got married, we had the reception here in the yard. The wedding cake was in the gazebo. It was August. It was hot and humid. We didn't care. It was just a great day, a day of celebration like so many others my family had enjoyed on this very plot of land.
If you look at everything just right, if you look past the ugly things, it keeps the feel of a middle American farm--as Hoosier as it gets.
Below is a picture of the area from Google Earth. Interstate 65 cuts across the top corner of the picture. The two concrete structures just south of the interchange are empty. Abandoned. Hideously decaying (rumors are that Super Walmart will rescue the building on the top, right corner). I don't know how well you can see it, but the yellow dot marks the northeast corner of the property I called home until I finished college (if you double-click on the picture you should see a larger version).
It's hard to go home and see all of this. The city grew, used the land, then left it a concrete mess.The white house with red shutters, by the way, no longer acts as a cocoon. Life has just changed too much for that. Some things change. There is nothing to be done about that.
Can I bring this back to the church? We so easily keep the world at bay at Grandview. We're nestled in East Tennessee near Emmanuel School of Religion and Milligan College. It's a great place to play and to celebrate, but we dare not assume that the world isn't changing, decaying around us. The church cannot afford simply to retreat to the white house with red shutters and hope everything will be okay.
Sorry to get preachy . . . but, hey, it's kind of my job. God has blessed us with a great family, but our blessing need always be one that we use for others because eventually the "others" will overrun us. When they do, I pray they will be people who have already known God's blessing through us.
3 comments:
Interesting how one's perspective is colored by circumstance. Living in Indy - and on that block until 2 years ago - I hadn't referred to the house as the white house with red shutters for quite some time. But that phrase brings back so many memories, something you have always been good at doing. And living on the block I tended to see more of what was just over the horizon for the area - Maybe Wal-mart, probably a hotel - always wishful thinking thus far.
As long as the hotel is not like the ratty one down the street. Our area is prime example of why zoning ordinances need to be well-planned and then guarded, eh?
Ah..zoning. The old place wouldn't be the same if this had been followed. Now that I have my own home in the country, I wish county zoning was a bit more rigorous. e.g., the gravel pit across the street was started during a 2 year absence of zoning in Morgan county and would not likely have been allowed in its present form with the previous or present zoning. A modern window for those who cherished the idea of a grandfather clause.
I can't remember if the hotel is a 'Hilton Gardens', the 'Lady and the Tramp Motel', or the 'Hooker, Line and Sink Her Inn.'
Post a Comment