London, ON, November 2007
[Click to enlarge]
Some porches wear their age with grace (click here and here for earlier examples) while others, such as this one, seem to wither away without so much as a second thought from anyone who passes by.
Well, except for me. I happened to be driving past on this gray, blustery day. The light happened to be red and I happened to have my camera nearby. I happened to have caught this out of the corner of my eye. And of all the run-down snippets of life that I saw that morning, this one prompted me to lift the camera and snag a quick shot through the passenger-side window.
Only as I reviewed it in greater detail later on did I realize this house had more of a story to tell than I originally thought.
Your turn: Please share a piece of the story of this place. Feel free to use your imagination, as there's so much to tell.
One more thing: Robyn Hertz is still missing. There have been a number of sitings of her in Montreal, but she's still not home and her family and friends are extremely worried. Click here for my original blog entry and here for the Facebook page. I have also posted it to Digg. If you live in Montreal or Ottawa, I hope you'll be able to help. If you don't, please pray for her safe return.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
The house at 80 Oxford Street
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Funny the place has "80" on it three times. I'll bet there is a story that would be very interesting.
Nana lived in this house for 37 years. She and Stan raised three boys, and an after-thought, though some say accident, daughter. Stan worked the evening shift at the bakery and loved to bring home muffins and rye bread to his family and an occasional sweet to his precious daughter, Rose. When all her kids were in school she worked as a receptionist for Dr Woodson on Pall Mall Street. Junior grew up, was an avid tennis player, studied law on scholarship and married Bess. They had two darling girls. Nana loved to bake cookies with the girls when they ccme to visit on school break.
anyone want to add to this?
My story, maybe I will post it, would be about the overstuffed mailbox, the newspapers, and how everything looks locked tight. Your immediate assumption may not be right -- are they even home?
Looks like a neighborhood that you wouldn't want to be in after dark. Have a great WW. :)
I love doors....I have several inthe entry way of different places we have visite.....
as for your pic. My first thought for a story was "I told my teenager to sweep those leaves!"
I'm with Sandy on the repetition of the number 80. The number 8 in the tarot represents the virtue of strength.
The apparent desolation of this place reminds me of the Eight of Cups in the tarot - in my pack the Magician leaves the eight cups behind and begins an epic trip up a mountain and carries the mean of the strength to leave an emotionally unfulfilling situation.
I wonder why the people in this place appear to have up and left .. did someone die, did someone get jack of being unloved or unwanted or did they go elsewhere to pursue their dreams?
There is infinite sadness in this photo for me. I always feel this way when it looks like a house, a home, is unlived in.
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