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Prior to the fire
Thursday, May 19, 2022 at 04:44PM 
TG's childhood home on the morning of May 17, 2022 :: click to embiggen
For the past week or so I've been less than overwhelmed but more than preoccupied with a few events that have transpired.
Said events kept my mind astir with so many thoughts that I could not think about blogging.
Things have calmed down in the last day or two -- a lull, as it were -- so I was casting about for a subject with which to regale you, my cherished readers.
I still had not settled on a topic when, lo and behold, the universe provided one.
It's a sad story. You may need a Kleenex.
On the morning of Tuesday, May 17th, TG's childhood home in Rossford, Ohio, caught fire. The blaze began in the detached garage, which his mother had rebuilt after his dad's death in 2011.
This was the house that TG's sister, Ruth (who visited us last October), received as her part of the inheritance when my mother-in-law passed away in 2016.
The house, meant to be their forever family home, was built by TG's parents sixty-five years ago when TG was five, his brother was not quite four, and his sister was age two.
My father-in-law had just signed on to work as a math teacher and track and field coach with Rossford schools. He may have also coached basketball at some point.
This is is the well-worn and comfortable house that I first walked into on a typically damp and raw Northwest Ohio October night in 1978, having been dating TG for two months.
(We both lived a four-hour drive away in Northwest Indiana at the time, where TG was a biology/chemistry teacher and basketball coach, and I was fresh out of Bible college, living with a friend who was engaged to a boy from my home church in Atlanta, and working at the mall.)
We had left earlier in the day and traveled to South Bend, Indiana, where TG coached a soccer game. After the game, the team went home on the athletic bus and TG and I proceeded eastward along the Ohio Turnpike to Rossford, a bedroom community of Toledo.
I was nervous to meet TG's parents. What would they be like?
In TG's white 1974 Toyota Celica, we pulled up into the driveway of the small blue two-story dormered house on a double corner lot that you see in the photo above (cadged from Facebook). It had long been dark out, plus cold and drizzly, but warm light poured from the windows.
As I settled on the sofa just inside the lower-level left-hand window seen in the photo, my future mother-in-law (who went by the nickname Dolly), a tall, slender, attractive lady of fifty-two, asked if I would like a glass of apple cider.
TG and our children on his mother's doorstep, minutes before her viewing
Stanley, Stan to his friends, my six-foot-six next-June-to-be father-in-law, occupied an armchair across the room. At fifty-three, he was a handsome man, a WWII veteran, an enigmatic individual cultivated from stoic Ohio farming stock.
Both Stan's and Dolly's genes live on, strong, in my children -- both in their looks and their personalities.
Stephanie is built like her grandfather's family and is practical and hardworking like her grandmother's. Erica resembles both her Grandpa, whom she favors at first glance, and her Grandma's father, whose likeness you can see if you look at a picture of him, then back at her.
Both she and Steph are taller, like the Webers and the Johnsons.
Andrew tends to favor my father more than the Weber side, just as Audrey favors my mother -- sometimes the two of them resembling their maternal grandparents in pictures to such an extent that it causes one to marvel at the mystery of DNA.
Their temperaments tend to coincide with those of the grandparents they take after, as well, some of the time.
But the features and mannerisms of all four grandparents are in there, in all of my kids.
You know what I mean.
Back in October of 1978, having been offered cider as a refreshment, I said: Could I have it heated up? As opposed to cold. I was chilled through to the bone from the day's activities.
Dolly Weber paused, peered at me for a few seconds, then gave a slight nod of assent and went into the kitchen, which was barely ten feet from where I was sitting.
I heard the rattling of pans and soon I was handed a steaming mugful of apple cider, for which I was most grateful. The beverage had been heated on the stove, the old-fashioned way.
Little did I know that my late mother-in-law was thinking (if not that night, then on subsequent nights, and days) something along the lines of, Oh no. No no no no noooooo not this one. Please not this one.
Haaahaha. Bygones.
(Her eldest, the son and heir, made me his choice and as such, her only choice was to deal with it. And I dearly loved my mother-in-law, and she loved me. We were just polar opposites, with the friction that is often the byproduct of that reality.)
It was what it was.
With Joel and the grandchildren added
As I watched the house burn in this video, also posted to Facebook, so many memories flooded my mind.
I recalled the day in late spring of 1979 when my mother, having driven from Atlanta, stopped in the street in front of 604 Marilyn Drive and put her car in park, jumped out, leaving the driver's side door open, and ran up to the house.
She was too excited to park in the driveway and turn her car off, before seeing me and meeting TG and his parents.
The reason for her appearance there was that a few friends and relatives were giving TG and me a small wedding shower in the living room where, several months earlier, I'd first met my future in-laws. TG and I were married a few weeks later in Atlanta.
For a long time, as our family expanded, we drove the miles from wherever we lived, to Grandma and Grandpa's house several times a year.
In fact, our children grew up going to that Grandma's much more than to their other Grandma's.
And when they did, what they experienced there was a one-hundred-percent, one-hundred-eighty-degree difference from the experiences they had at my mother's house. Neither was better or worse; just so different.
All but a few -- a very few -- memories of that house in Rossford are precious, wonderful, good ones.
There were Christmases -- for at least twenty-five years, we spent every Christmas there -- and of course the summertime trips, with their particular memories.
Sleeping upstairs at Grandma's -- up the stairs were two bedrooms, one large and one small, under the dormers -- had its own challenges. There was a bathroom at the top of the stairs, between the two bedrooms, that was so oddly built that, when you opened the door halfway, it hit the sink with a dull thud.
I can still hear it. (I mean, where was the building code for that?)
I could go on at length about that bathroom but I'll keep it brief. In the picture at the top of this post, in the upstairs rear of the house, do you see the part that juts out? That was the bathroom in question. If you stood in the bathtub and turned around towards the wall, you looked out of that wide window (the bottom edge of which was at just below chin level for me).
Right across from the sink, within a built-in cabinet that held towels and such, there was an opening with a chute attached where you stuffed the towels and sheets when you were fixing to leave and go back home, sending them down to the basement where they landed in a cage suspended near the washer and dryer.
The bathroom contained a tub but no shower, except for the years that there was some gizmo or other hooked onto the faucet to give you a sort of spray apparatus. But it always fell off.
That was tough for the decade of the '80s, when I was pregnant four times.
Distribution of roses at Grandpa's funeral
The pokey cinder-block shower that guests were expected to use was in the basement (near that laundry cage), and was so utilitarian -- so basement-y -- that I could not bear to go down there. IYKYK*.
I don't know why I did not just march my bad pirate self (well, to be honest, I was not a pirate then, more's the pity) into the bathroom on the main floor -- Grandma and Grandpa's bath, in the hall outside their bedroom -- and take my shower. But I didn't. Somehow it felt off limits.
Despite certain quirks in the accommodations, spending the night at Grandma's was special. In fact, the last time I slept there was on a night in August of 2017, waking up the next morning in the small upstairs bedroom to the soft breeze coming in the window just over my head, and hearing the mourning doves cooing outside as they always did. (That sound will always be Grandma's house.)
It was the day that TG and I drove up into Michigan to meet my dear friend and blogging buddy Mari and her husband Bob (Bon to me; IYKYK*), and have a wonderful meal with them.
We returned to Grandma's house one more time, that night, but we've never been back. Well, that is, I haven't. TG was on the property for three-quarters of an hour after our niece's wedding last summer.
Since Grandma's passing, the house has been inhabited by TG's sister Ruth and her ex-husband (don't ask) and, at least in recent years, two of their adult children and their partners, plus now, a newborn (Baby Atalia Hazel was born on April 10, 2022), and five dogs.
Everyone, plus the animals, got out safely, since the fire happened after Ruth and several others had gone to work for the day on Tuesday.
The house is a total loss. There may be one or two small things that can be salvaged, but that's all.
My sister-in-law told me last night that every piece of clothing she owns, including all of her shoes, was destroyed. She has only what she was wearing at work that day.
If that happened to me I would probably just lie down in the dirt and die.
Of course friends and family members have come forth to donate both new and used clothing, and we will all pitch in because Ruthie is our beloved sister and aunt, and we ache for her.
The family will be displaced for many months. It's stressful and they need our prayers.
Here is a series of photographs taken at the scene and posted on Facebook by a local who apparently is fascinated with fire trucks. And there were plenty to gawk at.
Drawing a line from the night in October of 1978 to a night in March of 2016, I walked into the house on Marilyn Road for one of the last times, thirty-six hours after my mother-in-law's death. For the first time in nearly forty years, Mom (that's what I called her) did not come towards me with a smile, and embrace me.
My children receiving roses from their grandpa's casket spray
It hurt to enter the house -- her house, hers and Grandpa's -- with its familiar never-changing ambience, its homey sights and smells, and for her not to be there. I walked the short distance down the hall to her bedroom, where she had lived the last days of her life in a hospital bed.
The room was empty. Just the bare carpet, and her dresser and a nightstand. It was hard to imagine that she would never walk or talk or sleep there again, in her own bed.
And now it's gone forever.
Looking at the picture at the top of this post, I have another heartbreaking memory.
Do you see the two windows on the side of the house (main floor) that's still mostly blue, instead of black from the fire? Specifically, the window on the right, where the blue is beginning to blacken?
Just inside there sat Grandma and Grandpa's kitchen table. Grandpa rose from that table for the last time on a January day in 2011, and had a massive stroke from which he never recovered.
A week or so later I was sitting at the table, drinking coffee, when I looked out of that window and saw something that caught my eye.
We had buried TG's dad the day before. His casket had been covered with a spray of gorgeous red roses.
After the graveside service (which was held in the mausoleum because it was so cold and the snow so deep), each family member was given one of the roses as a keepsake.
The morning after his dad's funeral, TG left before I did. He had to go back to work. I would be leaving the next day.
He'd been gone a short while when I looked out of the above-mentioned window and saw a red rose resting on a tree stump about thirty feet across the driveway and into the spare lot, straight ahead from the window.
It would have been not far from where the firefighter at the far left of the photo is walking away.
I was puzzled. Who had put that rose out there? I called TG and asked if he'd done it.
Yes, he said. Dad used to sit on that stump. I left it for him.
I will leave that for you.
We walked away from Grandma's burial and now we walk away from her house
It's the end of an era. There's a lot of sorrow; my children are grieving. Chad and Brittany never saw the house in Rossford, and now they never will, and neither will their children.
The other four grandchildren have seen it, but while the others may have dim memories, Dagny will not remember it.
TG is processing the tragic news quietly, as he tends to do everything. As for me, that house was the closest thing to an ancestral home that I have ever had.
Many right decisions that affected future generations in an enduring way, were made within the walls of that unassuming family home. No matter what changes and whatever time takes away, much of the fruit of those decisions remains.
It's a blessing today even more than it was a blessing then, and will always be as long as there are some who remember.
And that is all for now.
*If You Know You Know
=0=0=0=
Happy Thursday
Reader Comments (23)
I am so sorry to read this. The monetary cost is great, the difficulty of living elsewhere, rebuilding and replacing can be overwhelming, but the biggest cost is the sentiment and the memories you have when walking through it.
I'm glad you have these memories documented and I'm sure you have photos of other memories.
That fire was terrible, and it's incredible how it spread.
I did enjoy the pics you shared. The one of TG and the whole family with baby Dagny sure made me smile. (Andrew with his hands over his face!)
The legacy of all that happened in that house and the raising of that special family that took place there, lives on in those precious lives and the addition of several more since that photo was taken.
We'll be praying for the whole family as they work through the emotional pain and the physical difficulties they are going through.
PS - we have great memories of our time together over lunch!
PPS - you will never guess what car Bon had when we started dating in1980! Yes indeed - it was a Toyota Celica!
@Mari ... you're kidding! You and Bon rode around in a Toyota Celica too? What a coincidence. That's the car I had to climb in the window of during the winter of '78-'79 when it was so cold for so long that the locks froze and TG couldn't get the passenger door open. Luckily I was tiny and limber at that time, haahaa. Yes the magnitude of the tragedy is hard to take in. It will be a long road and I know they would appreciate your prayers for them. xoxo
I am sorry to hear about your sister-in-law's house, but thankful that everyone made it out safely.
@Jane ... thank you for your concern, my friend! xoxo
Oh MY, what a sorrowful tragedy! I am so glad no one was hurt, but to lose EVERYTHING, I just cannot imagine!! Do they know how the fire started? The end of an era for sure. I am so very sorry.
Oh geesh, Jenny, I'm so sorry to read this! So many memories. So much family history. Gone! I might have missed it, but do they know what caused the fire? I am so glad the family got out safely! Sad though with so many things lost, some (many) of which may have held so much sentimental value and memories. This is something that will always be a story to tell and a tragedy each time it is told. Again, I am so sorry!
betty
Oh I'm so sorry for this! That is really sad and such a loss for the whole family! I can't even imagine how it must feel to lose everything you own in a fire! Thankfully no one was hurt which really is all that matters! My childhood home in Detroit was boarded up for a long time, Someone bought it now and it looks pretty good but it was sad to see it like that! Take care my friend. XO
PS The first time Rich's parents laid eyes on me I was walking out of his bedroom! We were listening to records and he failed to tell me his parents were home until it was too late! Brat!
Oh I am so sorry for your families loss of the home. I'm glad that no one was physically injured. It's such a sad thing to have happen. At least you have many photos and many memories to share with future generations that will never get to go there.
Hugs for peace of mind to you all.
@Ginny ... Ugh it's so awful. So far all I've been told is that it started "in" the garage but that was just because it was the garage that went up first. The fire marshal will be able to tell them exactly what happened. And it's hard to think about the sentimental things; there is one little picture that I can't forget. It was on the wall of a back study-type room that (I think) still contained Grandma and Grandpa's old desktop computer. The picture is of my husband at less than a year old. Actually there are matching framed baby pictures of his brother and sister too. They were there for as long as I was ever in that house and it breaks my heart to think of them gone. Maybe they were saved; we'll see. That side of the house took less damage than the other side. It's just sad and a lot to take in. Ruthie told me she is "numb and broken." xoxo
@betty ... Just that it started in the garage. We'll see. It's devastating to think about all that was lost. And now all these people with no place to live, crammed into hotel rooms with dogs until the insurance company finds them a house to live in while they decide what to do. My sister-in-law at age 67 still works in a job with a lot of responsibility. She needs our prayers because she's the sweetest person I've ever known in my life and I hate to think ot this burden on her. It must feel like losing her parents all over again! xoxo
@Jeanette ... listening to records? Is that what they call it now? HAAAAhahahaha just kidding. WOW that must have been an awkward moment! Wish I could have been a fly on the wall! I think you have mentioned on your blog before, about your house in Detroit being boarded up and then someone bringing it back to life. I think houses were born to be loved, just like people but in their own special way! I certainly love mine and would hate to lose it. Your prayers for Ruthie are appreciated! xoxo
@Lori ... I know, right? The best part is that NO ONE was hurt and the animals are okay. If someone had been hurt I think it would have been almost too much to bear -- and yet it happens to people all the time! I can't stand to even think about it. Losing my house to fire is something I hope I never experience. So tragic! xoxo
What a truly heartfelt description of the home and the generations of family members. Beautiful memorials for your in-laws too. May the strength and example of the grandparents be an inspiration as Ruth and others begin again. Very hard. May they have strength.
Hello Jenny,
I am praying for your family. This is a very difficult time. My friend Judy lost her home in an arson case. It was absolutely awful for Judy and her family. They did have a few possessions that made it.. a true miracle.
I am praying!!
Carla
@Maryellen ... Thank you. Yes my in-laws were salt of the earth. I'm glad they didn't live to see this. We are all rallying around Ruth and encouraging her daily. Good to see you! xoxo
@Carla ... Your prayers mean so much! I will tell Ruth that many folks are lifting her up. I'm sorry that your friend Judy had to go through that. May the Lord bless her. xoxo
Wow. I’m rather speechless. Fires seem so rare in the Midwest. I’m so sorry for the loss of your husband’s childhood home. It’s hard to say goodbye when it’s sold to outsiders, but to have it destroyed is a whole ‘nother ballgame. No drive bys. No peeking on realtor.com at what the new owners have done. That is quite a loss.
I did relish in your details of meeting your future in-laws and staying there through the years. Prayers for your sister-in-law and family. XO
@Bijoux ... you're right; it's a freak thing. So sad. It's still hard to believe. Thanks for your prayers! xoxo
So many layers of sadness......
But the people are ok. Although can not imagine the upheaval in their lives.......
Hope it will be found fully insurance covered. Can't replace the home and memories, but will provide them with hope, for the future.
Gentle hugs,
Mari-Nanci
@Mari-Nanci ... upheaval is the right word! It's mind-boggling. I guess all they can do is face it one day at a time. xoxo
So sorry about the fire. You have some precious memories. To be honest, I did snicker a bit about your request for the apple cider to be heated. My own mother-in-law's reaction would have been the same. heehee
@LB ... hahahahaha I did not know this about my personality then but I know it now: I am prone to want to change things up. Maybe it's a control issue. Ya think? Haahaha xoxo
Oh my sweet Jenny…How on this dear earth do I say how so very sorry I am?!!
So much sadness…so many hurdles. Hugs to both you and TG…so many memories…
My heart is broken for you both. Bless the children but they’ll never know the full meaning of your loss…comes with our age, those memories.
I love you Sweetheart…hugging you…
Donna💗🌷💗
Oh Jenny, this is just awful. I am so sad to hear this news.....the loss of the family home is just awful. I sure did enjoy all the memories though!!-----and all the great pictures! You brought the whole story to life. Fires are terrible and devastating....I'm so sorry this happened to folks in your family. How is everybody doing? It's gotten HOT HERE, I'm always glad to see summer arrive though....and our garden is full of flowers and vegetables!! Have you put any flowers out yet? I liked your ones by the pool last summer. Hugs!
@Donna ... thank you my friend. Sorry I didn't see your comment for so many days! xoxo
@Debbi ... we did very large and happy sword ferns in the giant poolside pots this year! The flowers were hard to keep looking just-planted ... I am not that talented. It's HOT here too. As far as I know everyone is doing all right up in Ohio. We will see Ruth in a few weeks at a wedding. xoxo
Jenny, this post tugs at my heart and brings back memories of my own in-laws. My mother-in-law was beautiful inside and out - a lady through and through. We were so different (I was not necessarily a lady...), but somehow we meshed and understood each other. She was my champion in good times and bad. I took loving care of her in her last days. We are all a product of those genes we inherit and the environment where we were raised. These memories you shared are important for your children and grandchildren - the flow of the generations in a family's life.
@Barb ... agreed on all points. I'm so glad you had a good mother-in-law. My mother-in-law tolerated me, haaahaaha! I learned a lot from her though, and before she died I told her that I thought she was a great lady. xoxo