this entry is from october 02. click here for more information about the curator, and to hear the finished work.
the house on river road
august 05th, 2002
sweethearts,
this last week was a doozy, eh? i can’t believe another one is upon us. i went to maumee, ohio on saturday for a family reunion. i found out my brother has my dad’s old hammer dulcimer (that i thought was gone forever) and an acoustic/electric mandolin that he’s trying to sell. i told him i’d gladly take them off his hands for free, since, after all, he IS looking for someone who would play them, and i AM family and really all i have to do is say DAD! I WANT THE INSTRUMENTS! and he’d tell my brother to pack them up and send them…but i don’t want to be a big baby about it. still, a mandolin could do me a lot of good.
late in the day, i suddenly found myself in my dad’s mini-van totally confused and missing the tofu-dog i had just started to eat. my dad had kidnapped me. oblivious to the increasingly loud growling from my stomach, my dad drove along the maumee river (thats MAW-mee, not MUH-mee, an important distinction when you’re a kid) and pointed out the abandoned railroad bridge.
yeah, dad, i’ve seen it.
he told the story about the time great aunt linda found herself on the bridge as the 4:15 was passing through town. there was nowhere for her to go, so she slid down between the tracks and hung under the bridge and waited for the train to go over. when it was gone she pulled herself up and continued on her walk. what a tough-cookie!
yeah, dad, i’ve heard that one. i remember that bridge. i’m hungry.
at this point i’m pretty sure he’s ignoring me for fun. so i still didn’t know where we were going. along the river are many giant houses, mostly old and beautiful, but many new and gaudy. my dad commented on the difference in opinion these days when it comes to riverfront property. in the old days, he said, it used to be that living by the river was something to be frowned upon. now, everybody’s looking for riverfront property.
yup, i said, as we pulled onto a random side street. my dad parked the van, and got out. i considered refusing to get out since i had been ripped from my tofu-dog, but i got out too and followed. we walked across the street to the riverfront, and stopped in front of a little gray house.
grandpa built this house. he designed it, and built it.
so, grandpa built a house. why didn’t anyone tell me? i had this sudden urge to run all around it and take pictures and ask for the blueprints so i could tattoo them on my arms and back so that there would be some lasting proof.
nana and dado (great grandma and grandpa) sold the house and moved to florida in the late sixties. and after that, it was just called “the house on river road.” not “the house grandpa built.”
maybe they just forgot to mention that part to the next generation. maybe it just seemed like superflouous information. but i’ll be damned if that wouldn’t have shaped some of my decisions as a young artist.
on my way home from ohio i decided that i’m going to make up for lost time. i’m not sure how yet, but i’ve got some ideas. do you have any? how do i transcribe/translate this architectural and familial history?
that’s all. gotta run. still thinking. hope you had a good weekend.
xoxo
sr
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