5211 Sullivant Avenue

Watercolor By Leland McClelland 1970

This is the house that I still refer to as home, having had none other to replace it in the true meaning of the word, at least in my mind. The best years were the beginning, and you always remember the first of anything, whether good or bad, and this was the first, and it was good. The house was at least 100 years old when my dad bought it. It then went thru several renovations, but the beginnings of it always remained in subtle ways that only those who knew it could recognize. I remember everything about it - all of the nooks and crannies, the way the windows opened and closed, closets, floors, ceilings, all of it. The smells that I remember of the food my mother cooked originated in the kitchen, and when I smell those foods, I think of where I was when I first had a taste of those smells, and immediately I am “home.” As I think of this, I realize how fortunate I am to have such positive memories to influence my growing because I know that there are plenty of people who have never had good beginnings such as mine.

I grew up at least 10 miles from downtown Columbus, Ohio, and every day that my mom drove me to school, which was an additional 5 miles more to Columbus School For Girls in Bexley, seemed like we were driving to California to get there. I had 200 acres to “wander around wondering,” which is how I got used to that concept of existing, and which I still do to this day no matter where I happen to be. It has only been recently that I learned to appreciate the value of being able to do that. With all of the growing up, and daily interference of life’s responsibilities, one can easily forget. It is crucial to one’s existence to appreciate each moment that you are here on this planet, and be able to stop, really stop and breathe in your life. The Universe is good.

It was so cool (and still is)...I was an only child and had everything to myself!!! I had dogs, cats, a pony named Prince, lots of horses, a pedigree goat named Roman, several sheep that liked to play hide and seek with me, rabbits and ducks that were Easter presents that had plenty of room to grow, and it was all good. I had a really intense tree swing that I spent hours on, (even when I was a senior in high school the night before I graduated), and I built a tree house that went all of the way down to the ground in some odd way that I cannot describe. I hid from people I didn’t want to see in the hayloft, and teased the fresh eggs away from the chickens for breakfast. One of the best parts was when my dad came home one day with an old World War II Army Willys Jeep and painted it red...I was 7 years old! An old friend, one of the ones who learned to drive on it, recently reminded me that we called it “JillyBelle.” We got that from the Jeep that was called “NelliBelle” on the Roy Rogers and Dale Evans TV Show. My dad called me “Jilly” so it made sense to do that.

JillyBelle
THE Jeep is alive & well & still running in a Sonoma CA vineyard as of May, 2011!!!
(It took me a while shuffling thru Dad’s old papers & records
to locate it & get this pic from the present owner.)

He gave it to me to learn to drive, and it was a stick stift, so it was quite a challenge; but I got it, and drove all over those 200 acres. Some of my friends learned to drive on that Jeep, and those were some of the best summers that I can remember. It was nice to be able to learn that way and not worry about crashing into anything and destroying it...except for the barn door that I ran into when I got the gears mixed up and went forward right thru it when I was supposed to back up!

Home, there’s nothing like it. It can be a place, or a state of mind, but it is always where we go when we need to just be; that certain place where we feel safe. For some, safety is an illusion, but they still cling to the idea of a home to keep them going for the day when it is a reality. Even if one is homeless, it is part of the human condition to create a space that is one’s own, accumulate possessions, however meager, while jealously guarding both with their lives. When you can do so without appearing rude, watch them sometime, searching for things that they might need, making treasures out of the things they find, and claiming their own space on the sidewalks and in the alleys. They aren’t any different from you and me, just a fine line of separation between us really...the luck of the draw.

So no matter where we go, or what we do, “home” remains a steadfast beacon to guide us back to our own personal peace. For those of us who would rather leave “home” behind, for whatever reason, we go about creating that state of comfort in our minds until we can claim another space that is all our own, and then, we are home again.

“Not all who wander are lost.”
J.R.R. TOLKIEN (1892-1973)