The family home can hold memories that last a lifetime

For many of us, our old childhood homes mean a lot. Whether a house, an apartment, or a lake cabin. Especially if it was a happy home life. There are lots of family lake cabins in northern Minnesota.

And our Minnesota home was, indeed, an old house, finished in 1908. My parents bought it from a friend, the widow of our family doctor. Her parents built it. It was her childhood home. She inherited it from her parents. It was too big for her alone. And she had her own home from her marriage.

Her father was a local doctor, so the house had some interesting features, such as a little nook to wash hands before entering the kitchen from the front hallway. And a library with lots of medical books and novels, even "Lady Chatterly's Lover," nothing to do with medicine, of course! Many books were left there - so very interesting. I discovered the well-known book at about age 13 and read it!

The house was built for a different era, with a portico on the north side for a horse carriage to pull up close to the house. By the time we moved in, it was used as a carport drop-off spot by a side door.

And there was a "maid's staircase" to get from the kitchen to the front hall stairway landing. For us that was just a novel place to play. Mom actually had that secret stairway taken out when she had the kitchen remodeled and modernized. And the third floor rooms were turned into a bedroom for my brother Nic and some storage space.

Above a detached garage was a small apartment for the gardener, used for storage by us. One day my sister and I went up there to explore and, much to our horror, found a skeleton. Later we learned it was a doctor's office prop for explaining anatomy! And the yard had the first underground lawn sprinkler system in town, a delight for kids on a hot summer's day.

One day, when I was about 12, I decided to teach myself how to drive the family station wagon, which was parked in the garage. And by accident I backed it right through the heavy garage door, which sounded like a bomb had exploded. And, of course, it damaged the car, too. The neighbors came running.

When my father arrived, I was trying to sweep up the mess. I remember he didn't say a word to me, just checked if I was OK. He knew my situation was punishment enough. Very strange behavior for a serious and dutiful young girl. Garage was repaired. Memories.

By 13, I thought I was grown up so should know how to drive. Obviously I still had lots to learn.

As we grew up and left home, my parents decided to sell the house and move. That was about 1970.

Childhood homes trigger a lot of different memories. Holiday celebrations, backyard barbecues, friends. My parents had many friends and entertained a lot. And our own childhood neighborhood and school friends were always welcome.

My dear Baheej told me a lot about his childhood home, and luckily I have seen it for myself. It was a traditional Nazareth house, built with brick/stone and plaster. It was on a nice sized property with lots of fruit trees and grapevines, and situated on a main street in old Nazareth. His grandmother lived next door. His memories were full of the wonderful fruits, fresh eggs from their own chicken coop, friends, poetry and great food.

I've had several friends show me or tell me about their childhood homes growing up.

The point is: For many, it's one of those basic anchors in life where we learn our values and get our start.

Well, just recently I had a wonderful surprise. My sister Mary sent me a framed 8-by-10 photo of our family home. I was thrilled. I didn't have such a photo - never thought about taking one.

This photo was taken sometime in the late 1970s or early 1980s. It doesn't look exactly the same as when we lived there. It used to be all white with wood siding. It was changed to a light green stucco by the new owners, probably to preserve heat in those Minnesota winters. But it is intact and still there today.

I saw on an online real estate site that it now has a red front door and is painted white again, with two trees added to the front yard. Still intact.

But I have the photo Mary sent me hanging on a wall here in my Sleepy Hollow home where I can see it daily. It makes me very happy.

• Susan Anderson-Khleif of Sleepy Hollow has a doctorate in family sociology from Harvard, taught at Wellesley College and is a retired Motorola executive. Contact her at sakhleif@comcast.net or see her blog longtermgrief.tumblr.com. See previous columns at www.dailyherald.com/topics/Anderson-Kleif-Susan.