1217

1217

This was the apartment that my Dad lived in for 13 years.

As an odd coincidence, my godfather also lived here some 30ish years ago.

We actually have a little history in this little crap hole. Years ago, I played with hot wheels on the front porch, my brother was chased by a chow in the bedroom. Years later, we all hung out, drank beer, BBQ'd. Had many laughs here, and most recently, shed many tears as well.

In a way, I'll miss the place. Even with the nicotine stained walls...

As posted on my Mediagobin

Dad normally hung out in the kitchen. He had built a workbench out of some scrap wood, had his computer there, a tv next beside it with a tall stool with arms and back to take it all in. Fridge was a few feet away, coffee pot and microwave not much farther. In true bachelor fashion, why the hell would you spend much time in the living room if it only put you farther away from all that convenience?

As an add-on to that workbench, there was pegboard set up. Hanging on that pegboard was quite the random assortment of things. Everything from screwdrivers to tape (scotch, electric, masking, ...), from containers of screws/bolts to photos, from a magnifying glass to golf tees, from hammers to thread. Anything that you may randomly need to fix/mend/modify/etc something was damn handy. A police scanner sitting there to keep you informed of the crazy shit that happened around you. Plus a stack of bills to keep things real.

The rest of the place had a crazy assortment of photos on the walls. Every now and then, he would change them around, replace some and reorganize. You could easily get lost looking at the stuff on the walls. I will say this much, the Goodwill in St. Charles is probably overstocked on photo frames at the moment...

9 times out of 10, when I visited Dad, he'd be sitting at that workbench, with a light cloud of smoke (not always cigarette smoke...) floating around. I'd pull up the spare stool and mostly, we'd just hang out. Cheering on the Blues, watching race cars go down/around the track, a ton of History channel and/or Discovery channel shows. Talking about life, the kids (he loved his grandkids), cars, work, old stories, whatever. Most of these things I'll never really remember, maybe some will resurface. If not, that's fine too, we were just hanging out, as friends do.

In a way, I'll miss the two hour drive heading to this ol' apartment. Of course, mostly due to who lived there last.

All I know, is that if someone else I know moves in there sometime in the future, I'll likely never visit. Just won't ever be the same.


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