In Closing
I remember biking from my first home in Burlington to our soon-to-be new home in Lexington. Sitting beside my father, legs dangling through the studs above our family room, I marveled that this home being built just for us.
A child in the care of his parent, wide-eyed with wonder at the palace his family would soon inhabit. The world was small. We would move slightly more than a mile, but it might as well have been Thailand or France or Antarctica. I was excited for a new home, a new town, a new school and new friends.
That was my first memory of 369.
Now, some 30 years later the door has been closed at 369 for the final time by the Miller family. Like a Texas inmate at midnight, it was 10 am on Wednesday, October 1 that marked the inevitable separation. Little Johnny's Puff no longer roaring, the keys and soul of the grand colonial passed on to another family and perhaps another young boy.
Although having my own bedroom, a large basement and an expansive backyard provided for solitude when desired, the soul of 369 was truly the amalgamation of individual souls that laughed in its rooms, who played on its grass and who as a village raised a child. The home is where the memories were born, where friendship and love were cultivated. Closing the strong storm door does not slam shut those memories -- they live on eternally as new doors open.
In Gratitude
Foremost, I must thank my parents for making 369 the amazing place to grow up that it was. Their love, support and hard work provided something few children are fortunate enough to experience. Through compost and frozen food falling from the freezer, Lynne and Peter Miller have always been the soul of my life and most certainly of 369. No one ever came through 369's doors without being greeted and treated like family. Including Peter Sabia.
That said, I'm very sorry ...
In Apology
Apologies to Mom. I'm sorry that we didn't have more freezers or pantries or junk drawers. I'm also sorry you were never able to find a plastic bag or a cookbook. Thank you for not keeping kosher, for never actually washing my mouth out with soap, and for not bending my fingers back any further than you did. Thank you for making me think gourmet meals five nights a week was a typical thing, and for needing something from the basement fridge every five minutes when I was with a girlfriend.
Apologies to Dad. I'm sorry you always had to wear the same clothes from when you were in college, and I'm sorry you aren't able to sit or stand still while on the phone. I'm also sorry you were never able to find a pencil or a tape measure. Thank you for constructing walls in our yard that we could kick the ball against. And for making sure we always cut to the basket ready to receive a pass. Thank you for building sled runs from the top of the hill down to the stream. And for building a treefort with electricity.
Apologies to AP. I'm sorry you received such a ridiculous nickname, and I'm sorry that we always picked on you,even when you didn't deserve it. I'm sorry the basement was so scary. Thank you for putting out cones on your birthday in case someone wanted to dribble, and for always having at least 32 flavors of hair product in the shower.
Apologies to Andrew Levine. I shouldn't have thrown the lawn tool at you. And I'm sorry about the whole Pistons beating the Celtics thing. Thank you for creating characters and humor in just about every situation of life on North Emerson/Tidd back in the 90s.
Apologies to Bob St. Pierre. I'm sorry Bobscards wasn't more lucrative. And that Fred McGriff sucked. And that we yelled Carlson and Palm all the damn time. I'm sorry there wasn't more to eat nor cable TV at your house ... but I'm quite glad because it meant you spent more time at 369. Thank you for being part of so many of the fun memories.
Apologies to Gary Joslow. Your name was just too much fun to belt in a really deep voice.
Apologies to Anderson and Smith. I'm still not sure which of you is which, and although we've never said more than about 30 words to each other, you've been incredible neighbors and I hope when I'm 120 years old I can still walk to the center of town and back in like 20 minutes.
Apologies to the Kim family. I'm not sure what for, but undoubtedly I broke something of yours, made too much noise or was just a jackass and um, sorry about that.
Apologies to Han Wei, Han Shin and the Hsieh family. Thank you for introducing me to toy guns, chop-sake movies, Taiwanese food and removing footwear inside the door. I'm sorry I wasn't particularly good at any of those things.
Apologies to Kunal Mehra. I'm sorry we interrupted that porno party, walked on your valuable grass and that we put a banana in your tailpipe like Axel Foley. By the way, does that actually work?
Apologies to Manlio Lo Conte. I really shouldn't have been swinging that metal baseball bat near your face. I hope the swelling has stopped by now.
Apologies to Matt Crimins and Laura Ho. I'm not sure why, exactly. I probably got in the way once or twice, I dunno.
Apologies to the rest of the Levine family. I'm sorry we did so much stupid shit. Whatever it was, we were guilty. Thank you for not killing us.
Apologies to Zehava. You were a great teacher and made incredible charoset. I'm sorry about the whole being an adolescent boy in your class thing.
Apologies to The Dude. You were probably just misunderstood. But we had an awesome time impersonating you, albeit wearing colors other than black.
Apologies to the Campisi family. I'm sorry I walked through your yard so many times. Thanks for being so cool about it.
Apologies to most of the trees near the pond. I'm sorry we broke so many of your branches off.
Apologies to Big Bob. I'm sorry Costello stuck a cheeseburger on your kitchen window. I'm sorry Suze smashed up the rearview mirror of the Dodge and I'm sorry for all the times the basketball hit the side of your house. Thank you for making your garage code easy to remember and your house key easy to find.
Apologies to Sue. I'm sorry your car left all those oil stains in the street. Thank you for being so awesome to everyone. And always smiling.
Apologies to Suze. I'm sorry you were on the debate team and had to keep all those crates in the back of the Dodge. And I'm sorry we weren't older so we could hang out with your hot friends. Thank you for having hot friends though.
Apologies to Kit. I'm sorry I nicknamed you Twinkletoes. But hey, it's better than Kit! Thank you for being such a cool guy all those years. Especially after the whole April Bovet thing.
Apologies to Peter Sabia. I'm sorry you got bludgeoned by those two thugs on the highway, and I'm sorry that was the one night I went to sleep early.
Apologies to Henry Shuman. I'm sorry that we didn't help you when you fell off the trampoline and your foot got stuck.
Apologies to the Lexington DPW. I'm sorry that the North Emerson street sign went missing back in 1997. I'm so glad you were able to find a replacement. And thank you for making sure North Emerson was always the last street plowed every snowstorm.
Apologies to Bob Sykes. I'm sorry your kids always left their toys in the driveway. Thank you for being the neighborhood's real life sitcom dad and for having three awesome kids we have long considered siblings. And for helping make sure trees didn't fall on our house, or that the table-saw was never lonely. And for not calling the cops when the entertainment walked into your living room.
Apologies to Diane Sykes. I'm sorry the entertainment walked into your living room. Thank you for always treating me like a son, and for making incredible Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve meals. Thank you for your kids and the block parties and the one and only Papa.
Apologies to Davy. I'm sorry I just referred to you as Davy -- I know that's like 20 years past. Thank you for being such an incredible little guy around the circle for so many years.
Apologies to Steppo. I'm sorry I just referred to you as Steppo. I'm sorry for what were surely many stupid things I did back in the day, and for being more like Screech than like Slater. Thank you for ensuring that at least one cool party was thrown on the circle.
Apologies to Jenny. I'm sorry you looked so much like my sister that people thought you were sisters. Thank you for basically being like a sister. Thank you for making holidays so infinitely more fun.
Apologies to the incredible neighbors who became family. I'm sorry we are no longer sharing property lines, but so glad we shared so many wonderful memories. I look forward to seeing you on the slip-n-slide at Block Party 2024 if not sooner!
Lastly, apologies to Diamond Rd. I'm sorry your residents weren't as cool as those on North Emerson Rd.
(And apologies to you that I wrote so damn much!)
A child in the care of his parent, wide-eyed with wonder at the palace his family would soon inhabit. The world was small. We would move slightly more than a mile, but it might as well have been Thailand or France or Antarctica. I was excited for a new home, a new town, a new school and new friends.
That was my first memory of 369.
Now, some 30 years later the door has been closed at 369 for the final time by the Miller family. Like a Texas inmate at midnight, it was 10 am on Wednesday, October 1 that marked the inevitable separation. Little Johnny's Puff no longer roaring, the keys and soul of the grand colonial passed on to another family and perhaps another young boy.
Although having my own bedroom, a large basement and an expansive backyard provided for solitude when desired, the soul of 369 was truly the amalgamation of individual souls that laughed in its rooms, who played on its grass and who as a village raised a child. The home is where the memories were born, where friendship and love were cultivated. Closing the strong storm door does not slam shut those memories -- they live on eternally as new doors open.
In Gratitude
Foremost, I must thank my parents for making 369 the amazing place to grow up that it was. Their love, support and hard work provided something few children are fortunate enough to experience. Through compost and frozen food falling from the freezer, Lynne and Peter Miller have always been the soul of my life and most certainly of 369. No one ever came through 369's doors without being greeted and treated like family. Including Peter Sabia.
That said, I'm very sorry ...
In Apology
Apologies to Mom. I'm sorry that we didn't have more freezers or pantries or junk drawers. I'm also sorry you were never able to find a plastic bag or a cookbook. Thank you for not keeping kosher, for never actually washing my mouth out with soap, and for not bending my fingers back any further than you did. Thank you for making me think gourmet meals five nights a week was a typical thing, and for needing something from the basement fridge every five minutes when I was with a girlfriend.
Apologies to Dad. I'm sorry you always had to wear the same clothes from when you were in college, and I'm sorry you aren't able to sit or stand still while on the phone. I'm also sorry you were never able to find a pencil or a tape measure. Thank you for constructing walls in our yard that we could kick the ball against. And for making sure we always cut to the basket ready to receive a pass. Thank you for building sled runs from the top of the hill down to the stream. And for building a treefort with electricity.
Apologies to AP. I'm sorry you received such a ridiculous nickname, and I'm sorry that we always picked on you,
Apologies to Andrew Levine. I shouldn't have thrown the lawn tool at you. And I'm sorry about the whole Pistons beating the Celtics thing. Thank you for creating characters and humor in just about every situation of life on North Emerson/Tidd back in the 90s.
Apologies to Bob St. Pierre. I'm sorry Bobscards wasn't more lucrative. And that Fred McGriff sucked. And that we yelled Carlson and Palm all the damn time. I'm sorry there wasn't more to eat nor cable TV at your house ... but I'm quite glad because it meant you spent more time at 369. Thank you for being part of so many of the fun memories.
Apologies to Gary Joslow. Your name was just too much fun to belt in a really deep voice.
Apologies to Anderson and Smith. I'm still not sure which of you is which, and although we've never said more than about 30 words to each other, you've been incredible neighbors and I hope when I'm 120 years old I can still walk to the center of town and back in like 20 minutes.
Apologies to the Kim family. I'm not sure what for, but undoubtedly I broke something of yours, made too much noise or was just a jackass and um, sorry about that.
Apologies to Han Wei, Han Shin and the Hsieh family. Thank you for introducing me to toy guns, chop-sake movies, Taiwanese food and removing footwear inside the door. I'm sorry I wasn't particularly good at any of those things.
Apologies to Kunal Mehra. I'm sorry we interrupted that porno party, walked on your valuable grass and that we put a banana in your tailpipe like Axel Foley. By the way, does that actually work?
Apologies to Manlio Lo Conte. I really shouldn't have been swinging that metal baseball bat near your face. I hope the swelling has stopped by now.
Apologies to Matt Crimins and Laura Ho. I'm not sure why, exactly. I probably got in the way once or twice, I dunno.
Apologies to the rest of the Levine family. I'm sorry we did so much stupid shit. Whatever it was, we were guilty. Thank you for not killing us.
Apologies to Zehava. You were a great teacher and made incredible charoset. I'm sorry about the whole being an adolescent boy in your class thing.
Apologies to The Dude. You were probably just misunderstood. But we had an awesome time impersonating you, albeit wearing colors other than black.
Apologies to the Campisi family. I'm sorry I walked through your yard so many times. Thanks for being so cool about it.
Apologies to most of the trees near the pond. I'm sorry we broke so many of your branches off.
Apologies to Big Bob. I'm sorry Costello stuck a cheeseburger on your kitchen window. I'm sorry Suze smashed up the rearview mirror of the Dodge and I'm sorry for all the times the basketball hit the side of your house. Thank you for making your garage code easy to remember and your house key easy to find.
Apologies to Sue. I'm sorry your car left all those oil stains in the street. Thank you for being so awesome to everyone. And always smiling.
Apologies to Suze. I'm sorry you were on the debate team and had to keep all those crates in the back of the Dodge. And I'm sorry we weren't older so we could hang out with your hot friends. Thank you for having hot friends though.
Apologies to Kit. I'm sorry I nicknamed you Twinkletoes. But hey, it's better than Kit! Thank you for being such a cool guy all those years. Especially after the whole April Bovet thing.
Apologies to Peter Sabia. I'm sorry you got bludgeoned by those two thugs on the highway, and I'm sorry that was the one night I went to sleep early.
Apologies to Henry Shuman. I'm sorry that we didn't help you when you fell off the trampoline and your foot got stuck.
Apologies to the Lexington DPW. I'm sorry that the North Emerson street sign went missing back in 1997. I'm so glad you were able to find a replacement. And thank you for making sure North Emerson was always the last street plowed every snowstorm.
Apologies to Bob Sykes. I'm sorry your kids always left their toys in the driveway. Thank you for being the neighborhood's real life sitcom dad and for having three awesome kids we have long considered siblings. And for helping make sure trees didn't fall on our house, or that the table-saw was never lonely. And for not calling the cops when the entertainment walked into your living room.
Apologies to Diane Sykes. I'm sorry the entertainment walked into your living room. Thank you for always treating me like a son, and for making incredible Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve meals. Thank you for your kids and the block parties and the one and only Papa.
Apologies to Davy. I'm sorry I just referred to you as Davy -- I know that's like 20 years past. Thank you for being such an incredible little guy around the circle for so many years.
Apologies to Steppo. I'm sorry I just referred to you as Steppo. I'm sorry for what were surely many stupid things I did back in the day, and for being more like Screech than like Slater. Thank you for ensuring that at least one cool party was thrown on the circle.
Apologies to Jenny. I'm sorry you looked so much like my sister that people thought you were sisters. Thank you for basically being like a sister. Thank you for making holidays so infinitely more fun.
Apologies to the incredible neighbors who became family. I'm sorry we are no longer sharing property lines, but so glad we shared so many wonderful memories. I look forward to seeing you on the slip-n-slide at Block Party 2024 if not sooner!
Lastly, apologies to Diamond Rd. I'm sorry your residents weren't as cool as those on North Emerson Rd.
(And apologies to you that I wrote so damn much!)
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