Miranda Lambert sings about her childhood home in her Grammy winning single, “The House That Built Me.” The song has inspired many to knock on the front door of their childhood home in the hope of experiencing the kind of evangelical moment that Miranda hopes she’ll have if she can step inside that old house and “take nothing but a memory.”
I did that years ago and found the experience to be less than divine. The House That Built Me, a drafty, musty Dutch Colonial built in 1922 on a postage stamp lot at the entrance to a public park in Baldwin, Long Island (New York) had been totally redone. So much so, that I didn't recognize much of the interior. You can't go home again, son.
Find an old car, much like you remember, and it's a time machine taking you back in a way you would hope a traipse through your old home would.
My mother didn't drive and hated taking the bus so she had my cousin, who owned a light blue, 1957 Chevrolet, would taxi her all over town. That meant I saw a lot of her and her Chevy. My brother and I would stumble into the back pushing the front seat forward and "complain" about how hard it was to get back there. Honestly, I loved it. I thought it added to the excitement and specialness of the car. Sure beat Dad's Rambler. Sometimes I'd get to ride in the front seat. The burbling V8 engine hummed through the car making the most wonderful sounds.
In Miranda Lambert's song she doesn't sing about loving The House so much as she loves the memories it holds for her. I don't want a 1957 Chevrolet. I can think of a dozen if not more cars I want instead. Although I wouldn't mind taking a ride in one and take nothing more than a memory. Tail fins and all.
Very Nice !
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