Often you really can't go home II

Last August I wrote a blog about how many of the dwellings that I had lived in as a kid didn't exist anymore.

Well, I struck out again.  I used Google Maps to look up a duplex in East Cleveland that I lived in shortly after I started school until I was nine.  Like the house that we moved to, it no longer exists.  In its place is a vacant lot.

Interestingly, I can see the "cottage" that we lived in before that.  It was a small brick house behind another around the corner.

The neighborhood is in a mixed state.  As I went around the corner, most of the lawns were uncut, paint was peeling, and boards were rotting.  But as I went down the block, lawns were mowed, some houses were freshly painted, and they were in good repair.

The house that I had looked for conjures up a pleasant memory.  I had had a few friends over for my birthday in March and we were sitting on the porch.  I can still see the fresh green leaves in my mind.  Now in Duluth MN, I turn my head in late April and see bare branches everywhere.

The school that I went to then is there and it is not there.  The old building is gone and it has been replaced by a sprawling structure.  The playground where I was a budding hydro-engineer at recess is now a parking lot.