Peggy Sue Got Married was just out on VHS when I saw it in the blue house on Spruce Street.  At the time, the house, belonging to my best friends’ parents, was a haven of summertime fun.  We had sleep-overs on the enclosed side-porch, stayed up late telling ghost-stories and reading pre-teen magazines without our parents’ permission, sat on the porch-swing and talked about boys.  My friend’s elderly husky, Hog Dog, inspired the name of this blog.  

In the 90s, the house was moved to Ash St. and the lot converted to a parking-lot for the church next door.  The lot is nearly always empty, but the memories of the old blue mid-nineteenth century home remain along with the home’s beautiful flaws, groans, and cracked front step.  I’m sorry to say it is currently in a bad state and being auctioned in November. I’m hoping someone will save the house, rather than tear it down, but chances are, it’s days, like ours, are numbered.

The hopeful optimist in me is envisioning the glory-days and hopes to someday to see two children seated on the porch-swing talking within a much smaller world encapsulated in the carefree wonderment that is childhood.   I try to tell myself the house matters not as much as the memories that hover over the black asphalt off Spruce St., but every time I see this house, I am transported back to a time when the house seemed sound and impervious.  How times have changed.