House, that is. Yes. Farewell to “Grandma’s Other House, the Real House Where She Lives Some of the Days” aka The Dillon house. The Dillon house was not my childhood home. In those days we lived in a little bungalow down on Superior Street, across the street from Stinkin’ Lincoln and a few blocks away from my grandparents. I actually took piano lessons in the Dillon house back then! Mr. and Mrs. Diecke moved out of town about the same time it was decided that my grandparents could no longer live in their big house with the only bathroom on the second floor. They bought the Dillon house and after they died, my parents ended up with it. This is the short version of course. The long version is too boring to post.

As humble as it is, the Dillon house was a bit of a step up for my parents. They loved the house and, and, and… I’m not sure how to explain this exactly but I am so glad The Commander was able to keep her house when she could not live there alone any more and had to make the dreaded move to an assisted living facility. The Dillon house is a half mile away from Freighter View assisted living and my hope was that she would be able to visit her beloved home frequently as long as she was able to. And she did for a few months until, well… About the time we began toying with putting the house on the market, she began to seriously decline and it became my luxury camping command central during her last couple of months on earth. Staying at the Ojibway Hotel for that length of time would not have been affordable (not to mention it would have sucked (even though the Palace Saloon is right next door and it’s two blocks from the hoosegow)) and sleeping on the floor in her apartment at Freighter View was definitely not a palatable option. What if Ralph came in and stepped on me in the middle of the night?

I didn’t grow up in that house but it’s where I took my children to see their grandparents and so many good times were had there and I have many memories. Like the time that I was home from college and I came home after the bars closed and THE COMMANDER CAME IN MY ROOM AT 7 AM AND STARTED RUNNING HER SEWING MUSHEEN! And then there was the time that WE LOST LIZARD BREATH! Where’s the baby? We looked everywhere. Did she go out Jack’s Door [door to the garage, of course]? I finally found my baby (18 months or so) playing in her grandmother’s sewing room / office (once my piano lesson waiting room) with loops of buttons that her grandma had shown her on a previous visit. More than anything, I remember making dinners in that place with Radical Betty and The Comm and I hanging out in the chitchen during cocktail hour. Talking a blue streak about everything under the sun and laughing our damn asses off. But we always did that wherever we were…

The house languished on the market for a year. Some people fretted about that but I suspected from the beginning that it would take a while for it to sell. I won’t get into the reasons for that except that it is in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. The economy has been horrible up there since way before the 2008 mortgage greed meltdown and the weather last winter was HORRIBLE up there. But I have sold it to a young couple who are buying their first house. I hope they are happy in the place that provided so much happiness and joy for the Fin family. Cheers!

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