You Can't Go Home Again

On the last Sunday in September, one of the first days we had no big plans or events, I took a peaceful drive to Taylorsport, Kentucky. I had lived in Taylorsport during the end of 1988 and the beginning of 1989. My brother had started up his towboat company and moved the office to Taylorsport. The sunroom of a dilapidated house which had originally been a house boat was the official location of IMS and my new workspace. Like many folks who work from home, I just had to get out of bed, grab my coffee and walk a few steps to my desk and computer. Well, that was short lived because my brother then decided to purchase the little store on the corner and turn it into a river store. A river store is essential because it has the ability to complete grocery orders for towboats and then get them to the boat, either while loading coal at a nearby facility, while locking through or by yawl. We moved the office, again, to the back of the little store and were able to not only carry on towing and barge business but sell groceries to towboats and local.


I went back to Taylorsport this past weekend to see how it might look after 20 years. It was so changed that I drove right past the store. The gas pump in the front was gone and the store had been converted into a family home. The little houseboat which had become a house, was even more dilapidated and seemed to be falling apart. The sunroom was closed in and a second story was added over it. Pretty scary.


I drove back towards town and for old times sake, parked my car and walked down to the Anderson Ferry. I had spent all my cash at McGlasson's Farm buying pumpkins, mums and tomatoes so there wasn't enough money for me to take the van across to Cincinnati. Standing by the boat I read that foot passengers were only fifty cents. Wow, I had that much in my pocket. When the ferry made it to the Kentucky side of the river, I walked on, gave the gentleman one dollar so I could ride both ways and said hello to the skipper. Riding back and forth on one of the prettiest days of the year, I thought about times long gone. I realized that I had been riding this ferry for more than fifty years. The last time I had ridden it, though, was when my stepfather's funeral possession took the ferry on the way to Cleves for his burial. As we rode that day I was curious as to why Captain Louis Hammond hadn't wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread across the waves as we rode this ferry. I was saddened to learn that he had actually asked for that very thing but my stepbrother had overridden his wishes and given him a full burial.


The saddest part for me isn't only that you can't go home again, its that most of the homes I had are no longer there. It might seem a bit silly for me to miss some more than others seeing that I have lived in almost 50 different places in my life.


When I was born we lived in what was known as The Projects in Newport. They have been torn down for condos to overlook the Cincinnati skyline. The next home, my maternal grandparents' house where we lived off and on most of my early live, has been replaced by an office building near Newport on the Levee. The two locations where we lived on the river side of the floodwall in Newport are not at all the places I grew up. Our spot when we lived at Big Rock Harbor is now occupied by Hooters and the spot where our trailer was when I was in my late teen's is now becoming a million dollar condominium site. Wouldn't my parents and grandparents be shocked. The view we had in my childhood for next to nothing now costs big, big bucks. We had it and were considered river trash. How times change.

Its ironic that I now live in the home that my natural father owned. He divorced my mother when I was just born and I never lived there until after he died and left it to me. I had only been in the living room three times. So, its not like going home at all.

I'm happy nonetheless. I do miss the house my grandparents owned but it was old and falling apart, having survived the 1939 flood before the floodwall was built. I have photographs to bring back memories.

Now my house is "grandma's house" and I hope it will be there for many years so my kids and grandkids can "come home again".

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