The Houses We Live In

This post was going to be about something completely different – but after my bike ride, well, it’s now this…

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!!!  I have a little gem to share with you all – about my neighborhood and the small world stories that surround it.

First thing to know – my husband, son & I live in the house my husband’s grandfather had built in 1957. His grandfather lived here until he passed away in 1996.  Then my husband & I bought it.   We’ve owned it ever since.

Let’s go back to 1989 when Scott and I met. That same week I met Scott, his friend’s brother, Aleck (visiting from NY) came to our house and we met him. Aleck eventually moved to Tucson from upstate New York and lived with his brother and sister in a house his parents (back in NY) bought for their kids when they came to Tucson to go to the University of Arizona.  Did you get all that?

So all the while Aleck, Scott & I would hang out at our house by the university or we’d occasionally go to Aleck’s house- mostly because so many people were living in it.   At the same time, I’d never been to Scott’s grandfather’s house because he was always at one of his children’s houses for any family occasion at which we’d all be together.   When Scott’s grandfather passed away in 1996, I went there for the first time.   It was 0.47 miles from Aleck’s house.  So when we ended up buying this house, we ended up living less than half a mile from one of our closest friends.  All those years I’d been going to Aleck’s house and never knew I was in the same neighborhood as Scott’s grandfather! Pretty cool, eh?

Still not done ~

Fast forward to 2010, we hire a new bookkeeper at my work. She lives in a completely different part of town than where our work is located (which is a mile from my house).  It turns out that not only is the first house she lived in with her husband, over 20 years ago, down the street from our work building BUT she also grew up in the house right across the street from – GUESS WHERE? Aleck’s house.

The weirdness continues ~

I was taking my son to his music lesson one day this summer. His teacher’s house is about 10 miles from our house.  I turned down a wrong street (she lives on something akin to Ridgeway Dr. and we turned on the street before it called something like Ridgeview Pl.).  I thought nothing of it. The next day at work I was telling the story of my getting lost on the way to the music lesson and I’d turned down on Ridgeview Pl.  The bookkeeper looked at me and said “I can’t believe it – that’s MY street!”   Ha!

So let’s do a fast recap:

We moved into a house that turned out to be down the street from our excellent friend who lives across the street from the house where my work’s bookkeeper grew up who now lives a street over from my son’s music teacher.

It doesn’t end there…

The house that my work’s bookkeeper grew up in has been on the market for a few months (most likely because it is a 3 bedroom house with ONE bathroom…and a sidebar- when the bookkeeper lived there with ONE bathroom – there were 5 girls, 1 boy and two parents living there!).  Anyway, today as I was biking to the grocery store, I went down Aleck’s street and saw a woman doing yard work in front of the bookkeeper’s old house. I stopped my bike and asked her if she owned the house for sale. She said yes, and I said I work with a woman that grew up in that house.  She noted how bizarre that was because her current boss used to live next door to the house she lives in and he’d been in her house many times when he was growing up.  I asked her for the guy’s name to see if the bookkeeper knew him and when she asked for my co-worker’s name she laughed and said that was the same last name the her boss mentioned as owning the house she now lives in.

Pretty weird, eh?

About Rutabaga the Mercenary Researcher

I'm a research librarian for Public Television, story teller, bike commuter, baker, music fiend, lover of reading & books, mother, wife, friend - and many more descriptive adjectives and nouns.
This entry was posted in Biking, Childhood, Coincidence, Family, Humor, Music, Random Thoughts, Story and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to The Houses We Live In

  1. Gretchen Cole says:

    What a great story! I’ve travelled quite a bit throughout my life (and lived in lots of different places–some wonderfully different, some not so much wonderful), so it’s a bit difficult to wrap my head around this, but I really enjoyed reading this.

    Here’s another for you from my life: All the time I was growing up, geneology/family trees were forbidden subjects (so was going to the public library, but that’s a whole ‘nother subject). Much later, I discovered the reason for this was because my grandmother’s mother was a “Civil War love baby” (that tremor you just felt was my grandmother rolling over in her grave–again!) and she didn’t want us to know. I’ve always been a bit jealous (envious? I always get those confused) of people with lots of cousins, aunts, uncles, etc, since I didn’t have very many that I knew of. Well, a couple of days ago, I got an e-mail via from a woman who might be my 2nd cousin!! (I’m a little fuzzy on the relationship, so 2nd cousin is a WAG.) She has some questions about my grandfather and says she’s the granddaughter of my grandfather’s older brother, who died a few years before I was born! I was born in ’52 and I’m just blown away that I might have acquired a cousin after all these years.

  2. runningonsober says:

    Eh. Pretty weird. You have the coolest things happen to you. 🙂

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