Welcome to the KingZoo and Funny Farm, where we learn to live, laugh, and love together. Here you'll find snippets of life in our zoo, parenting tips we've learned along the way, reflections on shining God's light in this world, passions in the realm of orphan care, and our journey as parents of a visually impaired child with sensory processing disorder. Have fun!
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
More memories of home
The pictures of the back yard remind me of Easter and the giant egg hunt we did as kids!! That was always so fun.
Cory Lee Wilson, Niece
(Note from Cindy: This reminded me of the time that Cory came for Easter dinner in her Easter finery but ended up covered in mud after a trip to the creek. Her mom was not happy at all.)
Always enjoyed family gatherings, many memorable memories in the past years. Cindy Godshall, Sister-in-law
I remember Carla, Cara, and I went in the hot tub when it was snowing and then aunt Christine took a picture of us in our bathing suits in the snow! I think I still have that pic somewhere!
Brittany Lynn, Niece
I remember a lot of good times! From playing in the leaves in the fall to sledding down the hill in the winter. Chad teasing us saying only boys can have babies on Wednesdays, to helping Mommom and Aunt Christine make homemade applesauce. This house was like Cara and I's second home! It was always filled with so much love and great memories from my childhood I will never forget! I know the new home will be filled with that same love and many more memories to make in the future!
Carla Mitchell, Niece
This house was a second home and I am sure tons of others feel that way as well I remember baking Christmas cookies and painting them, applesauce making with Mommom and aunt Chris, playing with Sandy, having lunches outside when we were little. This house has so many memories, it will be missed but the new house will be just the same. Love you both, Uncle Glenn, Aunt Christine, and Mommom. Best of wishes.
Cara Hough, Niece
So many of my childhood memories were at this home. I remember it being built and looking forward to returning each time to find it closer and closer to being finished. I can remember a sleepover in particular when us cousins along with Sandy, all slept in a tent in the backyard. My family moved quite frequently as I was growing up and the Bauman home was always a warm, wonderful consistent place I would visit and I always felt so welcomed when I would stay. It was a second home to me for much of my childhood.
I remember the bathroom, it was a lovely bathroom and if Aunt Chris would have allowed me to, I'd have probably slept in there. When you are one of five sharing a bathroom in a tiny apartment, the idea of showering without running out of hot water and stepping out with a heat lamp warming you is the most beautiful thing ever!!
I remember the basement, it was there I would watch "The Sound of Music" and "The Karate Kid" over and over again. It was also there where I realized I did not acquire the same singing voice as Julie Andrews and I could not (no matter how hard I tried) perfect any karate moves or trim a bonsai tree.
I remember the vent in the floor of the kitchen that allowed you to spy on the people and conversations being had in the basement. It was also much fun to lay on the kitchen floor and talk to people in the basement through the vent. Should I have had a cell phone, I could have sent them a text. How much fun would that have been?
Cindy's room was the best (sorry Chad if you secretly wanted a reading nook) but really, her room was the greatest. I'd curl up and read every poem from "Where the Sidewalk Ends" and be completely content for hours drawing and writing at her desk.
I remember hours and hours of shooting baskets in the driveway and perfecting my game. I'd try to beat Chad and never could, I know now why he would never lower the net for me! I also remember using a water balloon launcher for the first time and how much fun it was to see how far we could get them to go.
I remember sledding down the back hill with my sisters the winter they got Chicken Pox and infected me. I tried to run them in the crick but Aunt Chris watched carefully. We couldn't go to school so we got to go visit Aunt Christine every day for a week. This made being 14 and stuck at home with your little sisters so much more enjoyable!
It was so neat to be able to go right next door to Mommoms place and visit her. I loved her quilt room and was always amazed of her talent quilting. I was equally amazed at the extensive jewelry collection she had. I'd try on her many necklaces, bracelets and
broaches and have my own fashion show!
These are only a few of my many memories, as I type this I smile. More and more good memories continue to fill my mind. It is such a wonderful home. Even more wonderful are the people who live there! Thank you Aunt Chris and Uncle Glenn for the fondest of memories, I know your new home will also be great and filled with love because of the special people who will call it home!
Christy Knieriem, Niece
I remember coming there years ago for birthday parties for Aunt Bert and picking her up for trips to Lancaster. One time Butch & I were waiters for a Aunts & Uncles Dinner prepared by Christine. In more recent years Chris would hold the Moyer Dinner planning meeting. She was the perfect hostess and the table was always beautifully decorated as well as the rest of the house. It will be hard to leave but there are many more happy memories to be made at the new home. I can't wait to see it. I know it will be beatiful!
Sue Marx, Cousin
I have so many good memories of visiting and living in your house, but what I remember from my first visit (in addition to the warm welcome I received) was how comfortable your house is. After growing up in a drafty old house with creaky wood floors and squeaky doors, I loved how warm, quiet, and comfortable your house is -- especially the perfectly clean and super soft carpet! Over the years I enjoyed watching our dogs and kids playing in the creek -- that was always a highlight. We will miss being there, but we are happy that you have found a great new place that fits your needs. I am confident that your new house will soon feel like home because, as I learned from my parents’ recent downsizing move, it will be filled with your most cherished possessions and YOU, and that’s what makes it home!
Jodi Bauman, Daughter-in-law
From family friends:
I have great memories at your house. The yard was always in tip top shape with beautiful flowers. I remember being in the hot tub when it was cold and then running like mad for a warm house. Chris has a gift for decorating and the house was always sparkling. Will miss that place but looking forward to visiting your new home.
We remember being in your hot tub outside on our anniversaries in January when there was lots of snow on the ground! What an experience!
From our small group which was more like family:
From my brother, Chad, who may have envied my window seat but clearly is the scholarly one now. Some of these are my memories as well but many occurred after I had already left home:
Many of my earliest memories have to do with helping turn that overgrown, wild field into a lawn. I remember cutting down that half dead tree Cindy mentions in her blog, with only a dull axe, a middle-schooler’s strength, and my perennially blister-prone skin. It took me all day to cut it down and into pieces. I could do it now with seven minutes and a chainsaw, but it felt like a wonderful accomplishment at the time. I retrospect, I suspect mom and dad of giving
me that job, and dulling the axe, so they could get some work done on the house, and I will be adding that gambit to myparental repertoire.
After we got the worst of the land cleared away, I remember having the large lawn graded and seeded, only to have a torrential downpour wash a good deal of the seed into the creek and leave deep rivulets in the previously perfectly sculpted landscape. I think about how tragic the timing of that downpour felt to me at the time, and yet how relatively minor the consequences for us were, every time I hear of impoverished people somewhere in the world having their crops and livelihood far more devastatingly destroyed by flood.
I remember running electricity for the house, sweeping its plywood floors over and over and over again, and watching in wonder as my parents’ vision for the place slowly came to fruition.
I remember working with uncle Dwight (whose crew laughed or looked confused when I used his real name) doing something he truly seemed to love doing: building houses. And in the midst of my remembering, I miss him.
I remember Grand Pop helping us with the house. And in midst of my remembering, I miss him, too. I remember him accidentally ramming his vehicle into the garage soon after the house was built, becoming the first one to damage it. It didn’t occur to me then, but now that I am a father it seems somehow so poignant and appropriate that in one’s old age one should damage the treasured possessions of one’s children. Mom and Dad will need to damage quite a few of mine to make up for what I did to their 1991 Honda Accord LXi on a slippery curve one dark night in Green Lane.
I remember helping to build both versions of the bridge across the creek, the second far more impressive than the first. I remember helping to build the fake wishing well around the septic tank as well. I am grateful for every minute I spent building things on that property, since there’s rarely been a month of my life since then during which I haven’t used the skills I learned there.
I remember canvassing the neighborhood road sides for discarded beer bottles—shockingly easy to find—filling them up with water, lining them up on a hay bale, and blowing them to smithereens with my BB gun.
I remember spending hours and hours and hours building dams, redirecting water, catching fish and otherwise enjoying the poetry of running water.
I remember trapping and shooting muskrats to keep them from undermining the banks of the creek and destroying the lawn. I now wish we had just let them live their lives and enjoy the creek as much as we did.
I remember being secretly jealous of Cindy reading books on the window seat we built for her (the one she mentions in her blog). I was too busy trying to pass as a jock to admit it at the time, but I’ve been trying to find a place to build
one for myself (or my kids) ever since.
I remember falling asleep on those super soft (and Christine-clean) carpets many, many afternoons.
I remember watching lots of Phillies games with Dad in the basement. I remember watching NASCAR with Godshall uncles after holiday meals.
I remember mom always sleeping with her door slightly ajar, enabling her to see my bedroom door from her bed and keep track of my comings and goings. Despite angsty teenage movies telling me I should have resented her supervision, I remember never feeling anything but gratitude for the concern she showed for my well-being.
I remember spending a lot of time there with my younger cousins, and then later my nieces and nephews. I remember telling a 2-year-old Andrew that no crying was allowed at the dinner table there. And I remember it working.
I remember regular, enjoyable visits from my family’s closest friends, especially the Guengerichs and Cassels, who, despite knowing my entire history and the geographical distance between us, continue to keep in touch and root for my success.
Like Cindy, I remember feeling privileged to have my grandmother living under the same roof, and grateful for her never-ending supply of caramel candies.
I remember discovering that Sandy was a tenacious canine soccer defender and playing with him for hours. I remember pressing on his swollen chest during one of our visits after I had moved out, and recognizing from his reaction, with sadness, that his days were numbered.
I remember having a heated argument with dad, one summer in high school, about whether I should work or attend
basketball camp. For the first time in my life, Dad backed down and allowed me to make what he and I both knew was the
wrong choice. I remember feeling simultaneously very adult and very embarrassed. It was an important lesson in the responsibility that comes with adult privilege. I hope someday to allow my children to make bad decisions and become adults as graciously as my parents did.
I remember feeling like I had the best house for parties, particularly during the summer. I remember constantly bringing friends home. I remember them luxuriating in the welcome they received there. I remember friends feeling so at home in our house they would help themselves to ice cream from the freezer in front of my parents. Three of my college friends lived there for a summer. I married the last of them.
I remember my high school soccer teams’ disgusting habit of spanning the midday period between our sweaty late-summer two-a-day practices with a lunch time dip in the whirlpool followed a nap on the basement floor. Similarly, remember jumping out of the whirlpool to make snow angels with friends in mid-winter. I remember nudity being involved in both of these traditions.
I remember, most of all, the pride mom and dad took in that house, and how it taught me to value and invest in my home, my family, and my friends.
Thank you to my parents for teaching us all how to make a house a home.