Why I Oughta...

I wrote back in December about how my parents moved out of our home.  The only home I've ever known .  They moved in there - after building this place - in 1976 (I think.  Might have been 1975?  Either way...before I was born.). That's me and my three sisters along with my Mom and Dad taking one last photo in front of the 'house on the hill'.  My sister Vic wrote a very nice post on the Facebook about her memories that I can't top, but this milestone is hitting me with a long drip of melancholy.  It wasn't a full blast of sadness/memories when they sold and moved.  But now?  The idea that my parents have parted with their house keeps cropping up in my mind.  Perhaps it is because we're going through the house purchase/finding side of things ourselves.  Thinking that where ever we end up is going to be our 'forever house'.  This *was* my parents 'forever house'.  And it was a good one. The house holds many memories.  From holidays to wor

As they were moving out, I came across this poster from one of my 2006 fundraisers when I was a Village Trustee in Frankfort.  Hard to believe that we're coming up on the 10 year mark of this time in my life.