We lived in a 3 bedroom, split level duplex for almost 11 years. It had a 2 car garage which pointed directly towards the road in front of the house. When you walked into the garage, you entered through a screen door onto a landing. 8 steps upstairs, 8 steps downstairs. On warm summer days we left the back door open to the garage, and the patio door open off the kitchen. It created a nice breeze when the air was moving.
Coincidentally- it also turned the garage into a megaphone!!!
The entire neighborhood consisted of similar duplexes. Identical houses sharing one common wall through the center of the building. We fondly called it "Duplex row". People moved in and out of the hood but occasionally we got a few that stuck around a few years. Directly across the street from us was a similar duplex. Our garage doors lined up to each other almost perfectly. They also had windows into their kitchen that pointed towards our side of the street.
Dan and Jill moved in across the street about 2 years after us. Her son was the same age as Andy. He was a wonderful, patient, and kind mentor for my boys. Jill became a good friend, confidant, and sounding board. We are still close although she moved a neighboring town many years ago. She was the first person to mention that when our house was wide open and voices got loud, she could hear everything we were saying- across the street!
Apparently my neighborhood knew when it was bedtime, punishment was being doled out, and when the kids were just being loud and boisterous. Once, Jill pointed out our architectural anomaly, I became much more aware of what was yelled, screamed, or called within our walls.
I cringe to think we once hollered things like:
Honestly John, I understand how some animals can eat their young!
Andy- get some clothes on- right now!
Seriously Michael, I don't see any blood so you can quit screaming!
I swear Kelsey, if don't feed them, I won't either!
(referring to her fish)
Jill knew how my day was going before I even crawled over to her house with a cup of coffee.
After the megaphone discovery, we squabbled in whispers all summer long- unless the air conditioner was running- but you first had to be sure we weren't accidentally air conditioning the outside. I learned to use that megaphone for good- versus evil. I could stand at my back door, see Jill at her kitchen sink and simply call across the street..."Jill, are you busy?" We never called each other on the phone.
We tried to be 'the friendly house'. We had 3 young children, the school bus stopped in our driveway, and I was a stay-at-home mom at the time. After Jill moved, a young couple with 2 young boys moved in across the street mid-winter. When spring finally arrived, we had a chance to meet them. They were surprised to discover we only had 3 children. Each of my kids owned 2 winter jackets, snow pants, a menagerie of hats, scarves, boots and mittens. The constant wardrobe changes made it hard for them to figure out exactly how many children were living there. They stopped guessing at 6 kids.
I look back at those years on the North side with affection. I long for the days when something broke and you called the landlord to come fix it. I miss not worrying about impressing anyone- we were all in the same boat. I miss that megaphone garage. I miss my seeing my friend standing in that window. She was my first cheerleader, my first confidant, my first friend to help me accept the autism.
The new house has a 2 stall garage. It points exactly between the houses across the street...I'm sure some physicist would tell me that our sounds now carry across the entire neighborhood...I can live with that shame. I never use names when I yell anymore. Gives me a level of deniability!
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