Treasure Chest Thursday: My House is on Fire

Some of the family items I would be tempted to grab in a fire: the flag presented to our family at my dad's funeral; photos of my parents; silly as it is, the horn my dad would try and play every New Year's Eve.

This week, Kerry Scott over at Clue Wagon asked what would you grab to save if your house were on fire (assuming your loved ones, pets, etc. were already safe and sound).

This reminded me that back when I was in high school, Oprah actually had a show on this topic. She encouraged everyone to have a firebox that contained everything they would want to salvage (within reason), so they could grab it in just such a situation.

I didn’t have anything of great monetary value to my name at the time, but I put together a shoebox and I remember dropping in a coin purse that I picked up in Ireland when I was 3 years old, a tiny photo album containing mostly school portraits of my friends with their notes on the back, and assorted other trinkets that meant a lot to me.

That box moved with me several times over the years. I believe I finally disassembled it within the past few years as I’ve started a massive scrapbooking project documenting my school years (so I needed that tiny photo album, to include the school portraits, for instance).

Now that I’m a bit older, I have quite a bit I wish I could save. I doubt I would try to grab only one thing. One of my friends, who is also a scrapbooker, mentioned that all of her scrapbooks sit under a window in her scrapbooking room. If her house ever were on fire, she’d throw all of them out the window, if she had the chance. I think I’d do the same thing. I’d pitch as many of my scrapbooks (especially the ones I did about my mom and dad) and other family photos out the window.

Almost everything else in my home can be replaced, and though I’ve scanned most everything in those scrapbooks and picture frames, there’s just something about holding the original, with an ancestor’s handwriting on the back, that’s irreplacable.

Happy Birthday, Herman Wild (Sr.)

Dear Reader: Do you think you are related to the individuals listed in this post? Please drop me a note! I love hearing from cousins and others researching my family!

My great-grandfather Herman Wild’s birthday was only two days after his father’s. Herman Wild was born in San Antonio, Texas, 8 Mar 1877, to Fridolin Wild and Lena Hoyer. Like his father, Herman went into sales and worked at a department store named Wolff and Marx for almost 30 years.

Herman married Susan Campbell Bennett 15 Jan 1908.

There is no photo of his grave on FindaGrave (yet, I requested one), but there is text from his obituary, which provides a wealth of information. He apparently died of pneumonia on 20 Mar 1928.

Google Street View of 232 Lotus Ave. in San Antonio, Texas.

His obit and other records list his address as 232 East Lotus Ave in San Antonio, Texas. There is a neat old house at that address on Google Maps Street View (if Street View can be trusted–I find it to be often inaccurate).

Sentimental Sunday: The Kitchen at Lillian Lane

From the time I was 9 until my senior year of high school, my family lived in a rambler in a wooded neighborhood called Sherwood Forest in Silver Spring, Maryland. We spent a ton of time in the kitchen, which had a huge bay window. We ate most of our meals at a large wooden table in front of that window, despite the fact we also had a formal dining room. We had a good view of our street since our house was at the top of a hill.

In high school, after dinner was over, I usually finished my homework at that table. Lots of humanities essays were composed there. My sister still has the table and chairs.

When we first moved into the house, the kitchen had an ancient turquoise refrigerator with a pedal-operated freezer on the bottom (this was from waaaay before bottom freezers were the in thing). We eventually had to replace it with the fridge you see pictured above.

Those Places Thursday: Woodmoor

Soon after my 1st birthday, my family moved to the Woodmoor neighborhood in Silver Spring, also known as Four Corners.  I absolutely loved that house — it had all kinds of nooks and crannies and quirks. Initially, I slept in the “nursery,” a room with built-in drawers in the wall and bright red, yellow and green plaid wallpaper (ah, the ’70s).

The backyard was the perfect size. My parents eventually installed a swingset and then our yard was the yard to play in. The previous occupants had drawn pictures and their initials in the patio out back when the cement was poured. It was the perfect size for a make-shift baseball diamond, when we had enough players.

We were walking distance to Pinecrest Elementary School, which had a great playground. I walked to St. Bernadette’s, where I went to school. The neighborhood was so quaint in the snow. During the summer months, I’d walk with the kids on my street to a creek around the corner — a branch off of Rock Creek.

Woodmoor Shopping Center also was a quick walk away — I drooled over the cupcakes and cookies at Woodmoor Bakery and my parents were on a first-name basis with the proprietors of the Chinese-food restaurant there. Thankfully, both of those establishments are still around.

We moved away from Woodmoor when I was 9 years old. Many of my friends from St. B’s still live there and I will occasionally drop by the bakery for their to-die-for Parkerhouse rolls.