The Singles Center - Feature - What Is A Home When You’re "Home Alone"?

FROM OUR PUBLISHER:

What Is A Home When You’re "Home Alone"?

Betty Van Volkenburg, Publisher

Is it the smell of "something from the oven" like Mom used to do when you were a kid? Is it the colorful bouquets of flowers in every room, or your favorite music on the stereo, or the soft carpet under your tired feet at the end of a stressful day?

For me, all of the above could define my image of home, but what really makes a home for me are the memories of sharing my home with my family or friends. Moving around the country for a variety of consulting jobs, for indefinite periods of time, I’ve learned to make a home wherever I am, no matter how temporary it might be. If I put off setting up a home until the circumstances or timing were exactly right, I’d never feel at home where I am, right now.

With limited time for making a home, making friends and adding to my extended family, I must make my time count. One way to do this is by sharing a house or apartment. These arrangements are not only economical but could be the beginning of a network of new friends. At the very least, there will be another human being under the same roof to share a conversation. Of course, the worst case is that you’ll hate each other and you’ll need to find another roommate or another place to live. Thankfully, I’ve been spared the worst case in sharing living arrangements. It could be due to good screening and interviewing by my roommates and I, or perhaps it has something to do with my small town background where the norm was friendship, and mistrust or suspicion the exception.

Of the seven different states and eight different homes I’ve lived in over the past three years, three were separate apartments, four were shared houses or apartments and one was an in-law apartment in a private home. The apartments allowed me space and privacy but not as much of that "homey" feeling that I have in a shared situation.

My first attempt at sharing a home was in Connecticut and it wasn’t a good example but it is the funniest. I had driven to Connecticut from my home in western NY state on December 26^th and was living in a Hotel that was over $100. per night. I decided to look for a less expensive temporary place to live while I looked for a long-term apartment, as I was on a limited budget. Scanning through the local papers I found an "Apartment for Rent" advertised by the week.

As I was not familiar with the area, "Chris", the owner offered to pick me up at the hotel to see the room and her home which was near where I worked. Chris, an elderly widow, arrived at my hotel with her friend, "Diane" in a large ancient Cadillac and we went to a local coffee shop to talk and get acquainted. Chris and Diane had been friends for years, and had some great stories to tell. I thought they were both quite charming and we got along very well. During the conversation, Chris explained that the apartment was rented but she had a sleeping room that she would rent out for a short term for not much more than one night’s stay in the Hotel. I agreed to look at the room and we went to see it, - and to meet her long time boarder, "Harold" now retired for many years, and a friend of Chris’s dead husband.

The room was very small with a small adjoining powder room and had only a curtain instead of a door. Neither Chris or Harold seemed too threatening and the rent, which actually included the use of the rest of the house as well, seemed like a good way to save a few dollars so I moved in that night.

The next morning I was awakened before dawn to a sharp tap-tap-tapping noise right outside my room. I peeked out the edge of the curtain, into the adjoining kitchen and saw Harold at the kitchen counter, slicing potatoes on a cutting board, and heard the coffeepot start to perk. He was careful to turn on only a small counter light but the chopping and perking foiled his attempts to be considerate. Breakfast was included with the rent so I decided to "grin and bear it". It was also Harold’s main responsibility in the household to prepare a breakfast of sliced potatoes, fried eggs and coffee every morning, at the same time every morning. As it turned out, breakfast was not the only ritual done the same way, every day, for the whole time - a month, that I was there (was it only a month!).

Chris had offered to provide dinner at night as well for only another $25. per week, which seemed like another good deal, except that she expected help with the dishes afterward, another request that seemed reasonable also. My work location was less than a mile away and I had normal 8 am to 5 pm working hours. When I arrived home about 5:30pm, Chris and Harold were sitting at the kitchen table, with the table set and pots steaming on the stove, looking very expectantly at me, and then their watches.

"What happened," said Chris. "I thought you got out of work at five o’clock. We’re used to eating at five."

I apologized and promised to be on time in the future, after all I thought - it was only short term.

After dinner I helped with the dishes, but I didn’t get it quite right, at first. The dishes were to be carefully wiped off, with the scraps being sorted into a plastic bag for composting. The dishes were not washed in the sink, as I was accustomed to doing. They were washed in a plastic dishpan, and then the water was thrown outside on the grass. This was to protect the drains from any grease that might be left on the dishes after wiping them into the plastic bags. Well, well, live and learn! But wait, we’re not done yet!

After dinner, I was invited to join Chris and Harold in the living room to watch TV. As the living room was on the other side of my bedroom - which had no door or soundproofing, I accepted the invitation. Most of the furniture in the living room had white sheets draped over them, except for three lounge chairs in front of the TV. Chris always sat in the middle one, with Harold to her right, so she offered the other one to me, saying "That will be your chair while you are here." Oh well, it’s only short term.

As soon as I was seated, the only lamp in the room went dark, "We don’t need the lamp on when the TV is on," said Chris. Oh well,...

Chris operated the remote control and finally settled on a show, but it just wasn’t making any sense to me until I realized she was flicking back and forth and channel switching in the middle of the show, without warning. Harold didn’t mind, he was snoring already. "Goodnight, Chris," I say, "I have a hard day tomorrow" (and Harold will be up at the crack of dawn to do his chop-chop-chopping).

And that’s how I spent my first month as a consultant, in Connecticut, with chop-chop every morning, and the three of us lined up in front of the TV every night, in the dark, and me checking the other two frequently to make sure they were still breathing.

I was fortunate to find a better shared house not too far away about a month later. There I made a friend who is still one of my best friends. From there I went to Philadelphia and shared a house with a co-worker’s mother, an energetic divorced lady, who is also still one of my best friends.

In Phoenix Arizona I had a beautiful apartment on a ground floor in a multi building complex, with a wall of windows facing the sun and the landscaped grounds between the buildings, with two pools and other amenities within a few steps of my front door. I decorated the apartment with carefully chosen furniture and even put up holiday decorations as I usually did back home in Webster NY. My apartment was the only one with windows painted with Christmas scenes, like a Christmas card. As comfortable as I was there, it was too easy to fall into solitary habits in deference to other apartment dwellers. I reasoned they might prefer privacy to too-friendly neighbors, but this was just an excuse for being afraid to take the first step to make friends with the neighbors, in case my friendliness might be rejected.

Arriving in California a few months ago for a long-term assignment, I decided I would concentrate on finding an apartment or house to share, rather than live alone. This decision was due partly to the high cost of housing, but mostly because I expected to be in one place for a long time and wanted to have as home-like a residence as possible. Finding an appropriate roommate is always the key but I decided to be as open and friendly as I would like someone to be with me.

I was fortunate to find a very nice roommate and apartment, not too far from work, and I don’t even have to take an expressway to commute. I had a very good "feeling" about our phone conversation and when we met in person it was instant acceptance. Since then we have spent some very good times together, sharing news of our day’s events, or taking a tour of the beaches or San Francisco, or comparing relationship issues.

Not long after I moved in, another single person in the building whom I had met when we crossed paths in the laundry room, gallantly invited me to wait in his apartment for my roommate to come home after I locked my keys in the apartment. I had the beginnings of a cold and he insisted that I wrap up in a warm afghan with a hot water bottle, while he prepared some special hot chocolate. Now, that’s neighborly!

In October I usually do a Thanksgiving dinner to celebrate my Canadian Thanksgiving heritage. Since my family is in New York State and Ontario Canada, I invited my Japanese roommate and our English single neighbor to share Canadian Thanksgiving with me. We had a great time getting to know each other, and each other’s national traditions. Now, I have some nice memories of my new home, and it feels like a real home. Or, was it just the smell of turkey and apple pie, or perhaps the warm glow was from the pink and white towels in the bathroom?

How do you define a home? Do you have some special memories of home you can share with us?
Send us a note and tell us about them. We’d love to hear from you.