re: Have you ever tried to visit your old house?

My parents had a 150 yr old farmhouse and some ppl that grew up there asked to see the house. They were decedent's of original owner/farmer so it was special to them. Mom and dad welcomed them in, later they got copies of pictures ot the house that were 100 yrs old. When my parents sold the property a few yrs back they had a binder of old house pics they left w the new owners. For a heritage house like that owners are caretakers for tje next occupants

I was born in 1941 at home in Bogalusa, and our family lived in that house until 1956.

One of my cousins acquired the house several years ago and restored it.

In 2018 at my 60th high school reunion, my cousin invited me and my SO to stay at that house a couple of nights. We actually slept in the bedroom in which I had been birthed.

My mother still lives in the house I grew up in, so yes I’ve been back to it.

My last house and my current house we live in both had people who grew up there come by to see it.

One girl cried, and was happy to see a family living there with kids who decorate every holiday.

Just spent 30 minutes sorting through some MLS photos of it because of this thread

That type of nostalgia is a very weird deal. I don't really miss the place, still have my parents, etc. - but especially as we get older and now with our own kids, that stuff impacts you in ways you might not expect sometimes.

It's not really sad/sorrow, but there is still a sense of loss to an extent. So much history/so many memories that will continue to fade. Knowing you'll never have those experiences (at least on that side of things) again.

Drive by my parent’s house a couple of years ago. The new resident had cut down 2 massive oak trees in the front yard and installed solar panels on the front side of the roof. They also cut down the satsuma tree in the back.

I have. It's depressing for some reason, despite the neighborhood generally being kept up with. I don't know why, but I generally try to avoid Meraux.

My father built the house we grew up in and I had a lot of siblings. We had solid oak doors in the house and one closet door had all of the kids heights marked in pencil with name and date across the back of the door written in my mothers great penmanship with all of our initials at each mark. This was over a period from 1955-1980 which showed all of our growth.

The people that bought the house after they died called me and asked if I wanted the door since I was the only one left in town and at the time was building my own house. I had a door made that matched that one and painted it to match then took it to them and hung the new door and brought the old to my house and hung it as my own closet door. Pretty cool to look at considering the dates and that most of the siblings are dead. That was the first time in 40 years I had been in the house I grew up in.

The house I had as single father was on the Endymion parade route. I went back a couple times during the open house before the parade to see what the new owners had done with the place. My daughter has gone back as well. They were happy to let us in and even got to have some snacks and a beer. That might have been awkward if it hadn't been Mardi Gras season.

I wouldn't want to live in mid-city anymore, but I miss the good times we had back when.

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I’ll never forgive them for getting rid of the conveyor belt you put your tray and dishes on That was some sci-fi shite for young sun god

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It was like magic! And yes, the Delmont Village Piccadilly is exactly where we went when my gma, who lived on Lorraine wasn’t cooking after Mass!