Posted by: rusch | December 18, 2008

Oh the places I’ve lived: Portland

The first place that registers in my memory as a place I’ve lived, is the house at 8950 S.W. Crestwood Street in Portland, Oregon.  I lived there from as far back as I can remember until my family uprooted and settled in Atlanta in the Summer of 1993.

It was perfrect.  It was in a cul de sac that lent itself well to very active children who, more than anything else, loved playing outside.  The only hazard was our neighbor Dick, who dank ( I mean get totally bombed) and then drive his car to get more booze.  Other then that, it was great.

The house was split level home, built sometime in early seventies/late sixties time frame.  There were three bedrooms and two bathrooms on the top level; a dining room, living room, and kitchen on the mid-level; and another family room, a utility room, and a half bathroom on the lowest level.  The home had an above ground pool built with a large wood deck built around it.  My dad took the pool out shortly after we moved there as he had no interest in keeping up a pool.  Plus with small kids, a pool is a big liability.  Years later, the family would tear down the deck to follow the prophet’s counsel to plant a garden.  I remember feeling kind of sad because I loved playing on the deck.  Sadly, the garden yielded little fruit, or anything else for that matter.

Around 1990/1991, my Dad began to come into his own with his career and thought it was time to upgrade.  Dad put the house on the market, but it didn’t sell.  This was kind of sad because we had found another house we thought was perfect.  We would drive by our “dream” house on Sunday afternoons.  Alas, it was not meant to be.

In 1992 my parents decided to remodel the home.  The remod was extensive.  The kitchen was completely gutted and a new one put in, complete with new appliances, and a food storage room.  This was a great period.  We ate lots of frozen burritos and other microwavable goodness because, well, for a while the microwave was the only thing we had to prepare food with for about a month while the contractor worked on our kitchen.

The second major improvement was part of the basement family room was partitioned off to create my own bedroom.  It was small, but it was so nice to have some privacy, perhaps a great deal more privacy than I had experienced before.  Oh, and it was nice to no longer have to share a room.

Well, about a year after the great remodeling, my parents put the house on the market.  Dad lost his job and was picked up by a consulting firm in Atlanta.  During one of his trips to Atlanta, Mom and Dad went house hunting.  It was during that trip they found the house the Ruschs have called home since.

Sometime time around finding the house in Atlanta, Mom and Dad were able to sell the house in Atlanta, thus sealing our fate.

I remember that fateful day during the summer of 1993 when the moving company pulled up in a tractor trailer and put everything we owned into boxes and then headed off for Atlanta.  Oddly enough, that day was the only day I ever saw someone drive a Yugo.

Though my family literally moved from one side of the U.S. to the other, I have kept in close contact with my friends in Portland.  I went there to visit during the summer ’96, and was there during the Spring of 2005 for a good friend’s wedding.  Whenever I am in town, I am make it a point to swing by the old home.  It looks just like I remember it, except smaller, but is still able to stir up fond memories of a wonderful childhood.


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