The house I grew up in,
the home where I learned how to walk,
the home where I drew "Zorro" on the walls,
the home where I went to school for the first time,
had my cherished memories around Christmas,
watched "Star Trek" with my nuclear family for the first time,
where I drank "Vernors," as if it were champagne (the little bubbles) while my Dad sang around his stereo,
the place where I first saw "Star Wars" and "Knight Rider" and "Lady and the Tramp,"
the place where I first listened to "I Get Around" and "Knights in White Satin"
the place that housed me where I bathed,
and where I slept,
where had my finest moments of laughter, outside,
playing in dirt or a sprinkler,
with my brother, the hero,
where my mother filled the house with aromas of freshly-baked apple pies,
and where we hosted Christmas and New Year's parties,
where my parents fought
and I had to stand in the corner because of doing something wrong,
where I learned not to hit when I was angry,
and revealed my first crush on a classmate,
where I was played with,
and yelled at,
and comforted,
and where my family had been for 30 years,
is dust.
For the first seven years, the happiest of my parents' time together while I was on this earth, that house was THE place. It was where warmth and family and love and security for the tiny spec of dust on this earth, that is me, resided.
It was a house in a dying community in a suburb of Detroit. It caught fire one night, and became kindling, blight, in a city that has too much of that, already. It was for-sale. Anyone with the talents to fix it, 1-dollar is all it took. But my father was not alive to start his reclamation project. The house he literally tore out walls and put them back together, where he gave my mother love through building her a kitchen. All gone. As if your favorite book, your favorite memento, your history and imprint on this world, is gone. I know, it's a building. But I can see it as clearly as day. But, it is gone.
Anyway, all of that went through my head when I heard this song, recently. It's been 2 years since the house was destroyed. It's not a person, but it is history, as if I could walk through my childhood, if I ever saw it, again.
the home where I learned how to walk,
the home where I drew "Zorro" on the walls,
the home where I went to school for the first time,
had my cherished memories around Christmas,
watched "Star Trek" with my nuclear family for the first time,
where I drank "Vernors," as if it were champagne (the little bubbles) while my Dad sang around his stereo,
the place where I first saw "Star Wars" and "Knight Rider" and "Lady and the Tramp,"
the place where I first listened to "I Get Around" and "Knights in White Satin"
the place that housed me where I bathed,
and where I slept,
where had my finest moments of laughter, outside,
playing in dirt or a sprinkler,
with my brother, the hero,
where my mother filled the house with aromas of freshly-baked apple pies,
and where we hosted Christmas and New Year's parties,
where my parents fought
and I had to stand in the corner because of doing something wrong,
where I learned not to hit when I was angry,
and revealed my first crush on a classmate,
where I was played with,
and yelled at,
and comforted,
and where my family had been for 30 years,
is dust.
For the first seven years, the happiest of my parents' time together while I was on this earth, that house was THE place. It was where warmth and family and love and security for the tiny spec of dust on this earth, that is me, resided.
It was a house in a dying community in a suburb of Detroit. It caught fire one night, and became kindling, blight, in a city that has too much of that, already. It was for-sale. Anyone with the talents to fix it, 1-dollar is all it took. But my father was not alive to start his reclamation project. The house he literally tore out walls and put them back together, where he gave my mother love through building her a kitchen. All gone. As if your favorite book, your favorite memento, your history and imprint on this world, is gone. I know, it's a building. But I can see it as clearly as day. But, it is gone.
Anyway, all of that went through my head when I heard this song, recently. It's been 2 years since the house was destroyed. It's not a person, but it is history, as if I could walk through my childhood, if I ever saw it, again.
Definitely my greatest ever cover.
