The Street Where We Lived

 Did my unusual night restlessness occasion all this?

Last night I awoke with my brain bouncing around with the lyrics (well, some of them) to the song “On the Street Where You Live,” from a Broadway show—but I could just not remember which show it was. Although I was pretty sure it was My Fair Lady, I could not figure which character sang it—not Prof. Higgins and surely not the “I’m Gettin’ Married in the Morning” guy.

So who?

But I didn’t turn on the light and check my phone. I guess I wasn’t that curious!

So in mid-morning a former student from Aurora sent me this full-page article (published this week) about ... the street (and the house) where we once lived. 60 E. Pioneer Trail—the house you see in the pic at the top of those post. (See link to the article.) One of the oldest houses in town, it had remained in the same family until 1990 when Joyce and I bought it and restored a lot of it. It was convenient for us: less than a mile away from the school where I taught, about eleven miles from Hiram College, where Joyce was teaching (with only two stoplights between our house and the college), only a couple of miles away from Anna Maria, the facility where Joyce’s mother was battling Alzheimer’s.

But it was not just a convenience. We loved that house. More than enough room for our books, a small room at the very back, upstairs, that we used for a guest room with its own bath) and for our son when he came home. He lived there for a while after he graduated from college, but then moved over to Kent, where he earned a master’s in journalism and began his career at the Akron Beacon-Journal, which had been the daily newspaper that Joyce and her family had grown up with.

The Aurora Library was right across the street; the neighbors were kind; my students were respectful; the stores were only about a mile away; we could walk to Mickey D’s (and did) in the evening for a Diet Coke. Okay, and some fro-yo.

Seven years later, though, things had changed. I had retired; Joyce’s mother had died; our son was off commencing his own career and life (he would marry two years later); it was now “too much house” for us.

So we found a much smaller place over in Hudson—close enough to the village green that we could walk many of the places we use: bank, coffee shop, bookstore, office supply place, some clothing stores, our dentist, and on and on. And I’d begun teaching again at Western Reserve Academy—only about three blocks away. I almost always walked—or in good weather rode my bike.

We’ve been here more than 23 years now.

The street where we live now is one of the oldest in town, with some of the oldest houses. We can stand out in the yard and see places where John Brown stood. Joyce got so interested in him that she’s written a wonderful book about him (out soon).

Anyway, I sometimes marvel at the connections between my mind and things I’m not aware of at the time. Like the street where we lived—and a Broadway musical.