In just a few short weeks for the 1st time in almost 46 years there will not be a Raboni sleeping under the roof at 33 Haven Terrace. My two nephews, Anthony and Greg, will be starting a new chapter of their lives in Florida with their Mom. The POD arrived today and the packing has begun.......
Let me start from the beginning.....my Dad earned his first big fee as an attorney due to a car accident that happened in the middle of the night. We were living in a rented 2nd floor apartment in a 2 family house. Dad collected his fee on Thursday, deposited it in the bank on Friday and by Sunday a down payment had been put on the first home and only home he would ever own.
We moved in July 14, 1970 (LOL I remember the date because it was Bastille Day...LOL how strange is that???). Dad picked me up from summer school (OK it was for Algebra and I sucked at Algebra). He took me to "the new house". It wasn't really new.... it had been built in the 40's and additions had been added along the way. Dad left me to wait for the movers while he drove back to the Bronx to collect more of our treasures. I walked around the entire house inspecting every nook and cranny. I sat on the stairs looked at the sunken living room and took it all in.....we owned a home. No more 5th floor walk-ups where 3 of us shared one bedroom. No more living over someone else and worrying if we were being too noisy. Three bedrooms, a den and a big backyard.......even at 14 this was a major event for me.
My older brother, George, would end up having the shortest tenure in the house. He was there for about 18 months. He resided there long enough to finish his Senior Year of HS, try a little college and then leave from that house to join the Marines. My younger brother, Greg, lived there the longest of the 4 siblings. He was 5 when we moved in and stayed until he was 19 and then later ended up buying the home from Mom. My sister, Cheryl was there initially for about 7 years and later moved back in to make it a home for her family for a few years.
As you can see it went through different family members but always a Raboni was living there over all those years.
It was my home from the time I was 14 until I was 26. A few years later, I bought the house next door and lived there for 13 years.
Does a house have a soul? No, but a home does. Do you believe the spirits and memories stay within its walls?? I do.
The "old Raboni home" went through a full cycle of life. My daughter, Jenn, was christened there and my Dad died there. Children left from that home for proms, graduations and weddings. Grandchildren came to visit and hunt for Easter eggs, Thanksgiving dinners for the masses came out of that kitchen and there was nothing more magical than Christmas in my parents home.
When Dad died, the hearse went by and stopped one last time in front of the house. The last gathering of our family in that house was 4 years ago the weekend of Mom's memorial service. All of my parents children and grandchildren spent what would be one last weekend together under that roof.
And now the house that went through a variety of colors....from yellow to rust to grayish to white.....that had a fireplace added in the living room and a handmade mahogany bar in what we always called "the back room" are no more. Dad named the back room "the Silver City Saloon". His reminder the money to redo that room came from a case against Silver City Appliances. Our dog was named Ruby in honor of the man named Reuben who hit my fathers client and ended up providing Dad with the money to buy our Pearl River home.
I was in New York last June. I couldn't get myself to go inside the house one last time. If I did, I would have looked for the height marks drawn by my Dad inside the pantry door to measure his youngest son. I would have wanted to go in the bedroom my sister and I shared. I would have wanted to take in the view of the kitchen one last time and picture Mom there coordinating a holiday meal like a general commands his troops. I would have remembered my Dad laying on the couch after he had fallen asleep while reading and staring at the fireplace. I would have wanted to hear the brass bell Dad would ring in the back room to announce "happy hour" was in session. Even now it is painful to think about and the tears are flowing.
Goodbye to 33 Haven Terrace......you did well by us.....you were there as we laughed and cried, you watched us grow up and leave, you were the center of our world and the place we all came back to on special occasions.
In my heart, I believe the spirits of George and Irene are still within those walls along with their children and grandchildren who all have memories of laughter, tears and moving on as we all eventually do.
To the new family who will be moving in soon......may this home bring you good times and happiness.
PS my Dad did love to hid money and we kids have done our very best to seek out all of his hiding places but you never know......
See you next week..........
Dad and I in front of the house.....1982
Christmas when my brother, Greg owned the house.
One of the last family meals the weekend on Mom's memorial service......
No comments:
Post a Comment