January 20, 2013: 2111 S 164th Avenue

Neighbor kids playing with Zach (far right) in our front yard

We played Apples to Apples with friends last night. Lots of fun and laughs. Katie and Jim, old friends who I haven't seen for a while, joined us as well. Katie and I caught up on on all things healthcare and life (Katie's lifelong career has been in healthcare) and then planted ourselves next to each other during our Apples to Apples standoff.

As conversations filled the time between hands, Katie shared with me that her oldest daughter bought her first house. Coincidentally, it was just houses up from my first home. As we went through the specific locale and walked through each house in the neighborhood (some homeowners names still familiar and others, not a clue), my memories of our first home flooded my mind.

We bought our first house in April of 1992 on 2111 S. 164th Avenue. All three boys were born when we lived in that house...many great memories. I often said that we left good karma for future home buyers. It was home to us until 2000 when Grant joined our family. We outgrew our comfortable little house in the cozy Woodhaven neighborhood. I loved talking with Katie about our old neighbors that still lived on our street; now good neighbors to her daughter and son-in-law.

I haven't thought about our old house in a long time. I do get attached to homes. We've lived in our current house for twelve years. Only two houses in my many years in Omaha. And I lived in the same house growing up in Remsen. I definitely don't carry the nomad gene. I just don't like to move. My son Ben is the same way. Although he was four when we moved from 164th Avenue, he still brings up missing our large backyard and the secret cubby in the room he shared with Zach.

I still consider our first neighbors as lifelong friends. The many neighbor kids hung out at our house and were an extension of my own family. They were the older kids to my tots and played for hours in our backyard playground and with our front yard motorized toys. The adults helped each other out and spent much time talking in our front yards while watching our children at play.

There was old Joe who lived two houses up. He drove a baby blue Cadillac and would honk and wave to us each time he drove by. For our next-door-neighbor's high school graduation, Joe's gift to him was a box of wine. Note that the gift recipient was three years short the legal drinking age. This gift reigns as a cult classic. It sure gave us a chuckle and I'm certain the boy's mom later enjoyed the white zin flowing out of the cubed cardboard box. Old Joe died of cancer a few years later.

Yep, I still miss the old neighborhood and the great neighbors. Don't get me wrong, I love my current neighbors just as much. Just a different era and a different time in my life. I spent many hours rocking those baby boys at 2111 S. 164th Avenue. Definitely some good karma.