Come on in!
No need to take off your shoes.
Homeward is a word that evokes longing and determination, which are the core ingredients of creating a home you love. I’m excited to explore this framework with you, and to share insights, my design sensibility, home and cooking ideas, and resources of all kinds. Homeward is a space for everyone who wants to live a life of meaning, beauty, and comfort. Here we go!
We’ll get to what’s happening above. But first, let’s take a look at the psychological foundation for it.
My husband, Tad, and I both come from families that cling like koala bears to their homes. Tad and his siblings have a home that’s been in their family for 110 years. My mom kept the house I grew up in for 35 years. Tad and I have lived and raised our kids in the same Brooklyn apartment since just before we got married, 23 years ago.
This past weekend, we had friends for dinner and posed a table question: Tell us about your childhood home and how it affected you. One friend moved four times by the time she was 16. As an adult, when she wants to calm herself and go to sleep, she closes her eyes and imagines walking through the rooms in all the houses. But as a parent, she was determined not to move; her two adult daughters were raised in one apartment. Another friend grew up in an apartment above a garage with a single mother who dreamed of worlds beyond her own, and who crafted her own version of Moroccan furnishings and Indian textiles; our friend responded by creating a life where she traveled to those places. The homes we grow up in establish the dream we want to escape from, or to.
My parents’ first house was one they built. It was a tidy, cedar-sided salt-box with stone and wood floors, well-chosen wallpaper, knotty pine cabinets, and a small pool out back.
When I was three, we moved to the Poconos after my dad bought a car dealership in Scranton, Pennsylvania (Tom Hesser Chevrolet, “The Cheeper Dealer”—a baby chick was his mascot). After driving all over the area looking at houses, my parents toured one that was large enough for four kids—its only selling point. My mom didn’t love it. “It’s this or nothing,” my dad declared. They submitted a bid and they got it.
My parents had taste, but you wouldn’t know it from the house they’d bought. The structure stood on a rocky dirt lot with no landscaping and no garage. Where the drywall seams met, the previous owners had slapped up strips of wood, perhaps hoping for a rustic effect. The wallpaper was heavy-handed yellow gingham with red stripes, garish metallic and velvet, and quilting patterns. The doors were hollow. My mom was furious.
My mom is also incredibly industrious, and together with my father, they started forming a vision. Rather than moving, they committed to making this house as great as it could be. Over the course of my childhood, they continually improved it, replacing floors, building a garage and then a screened-in porch. They added a jacuzzi and landscaping and paved the driveway. Eventually, once the business was doing well, my mom hired the best interior designer in Scranton to transform the rooms. He painted the wood paneling, which my grandfather had installed, a soothing buttermilk color; encased a bathroom in vivid florals and brass hardware; introduced my mom to Roman shades and fabric headboards; talked her into a tufted leather sofa that was a puffy, oversized version of the classic Chesterfield, and paired it with a giant brocade ottoman. The house became a 1980s middle-class masterpiece.
For me, the transformation was a master class in determination and hard-won design evolution. Most kids hate change, especially to their childhood home, but for me every improvement felt like a triumph. I could see that my parents enjoyed it, and I enjoyed it, too. In fact, when I was 9, instead of giving them a Christmas list, I handed them a drawing of how I’d like to redesign and renovate my room, including an extension on the house for an en suite bathroom. I got a skateboard instead.
I like having a stable berth. But I’m a big proponent of domestic re-imagination and improvement, and have written about it here. A full and sudden change of home feels more disorienting, an uprooting. Our new place out west falls somewhere in between, a deliberate shift of the ground beneath us, and a different kind of evolution. Much more on that in the weeks to come!
I’m going to post our table question—Tell us about your childhood home and how it affected how you live now—in the Chats. Looking forward to seeing you there!
Amanda
The place where I gather my latest finds and late-night research on everything from real estate intel to deep cut shopping sources: This week, get a 1970s kitchen table look just like ours:
Links of interest and inspiration from the corners of the internet:
Speaking of groovy, this Brooklyn family apartment nails the modern ’70s vibe (carpeted platform bed, included).
There’s the wood paneling I grew up with, and then there’s real wood paneling.
Yellow kitchens, did they ever go away?
The recipes and dishes that are on my mind: This week, I’m sharing some of the foods I grew up with in the Poconos house. My mom made the most of that kitchen with its electric coil stove and yellow Formica countertops.
Judy Hesser’s Cheese Balls
Serves 8
Two 8-ounce packages cream cheese, softened
2 cups (8 ounces) shredded sharp cheddar cheese
¼ cup chopped olives
¼ cup chopped scallions
¼ cup chopped red or green pepper
2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon lemon juice
Chopped nuts (walnuts, almonds, or pecans)
Combine all ingredients but the nuts. Form into two balls, wrap in plastic, and chill. When firm, roll in nuts. Serve with crackers or veggies. Freezes well. Keeps in fridge, 2 weeks.
Some of my mom’s other recipes, which have been hits on Food52:
I live in Hershey so we get tourist from all over. I remember seeing your dad’s car dealer logo on cars.
I only moved once with my parents from Lancaster to Hershey. My mother was a clean freak with impeccable taste and their houses were always extremely well taken care of. Sold both privately with multiple offers. My sister now lives in their retirement condo.
I love love my house and I am my parent’s daughter. I love to decorate and take care of my home. My kids are the same way.
I am entranced with the meaning of Homeward. I grew up in a three bedroom sort of Craftsman style home on a farm. After moves over the decades for school/post-doc/work that spanned the Southwest and both coasts, I think there are two factors from my upbringing that affect how I’ve lived since: a tidy, uncluttered interior and a great desire to spend time outdoors. My best childhood memories are roaming around the farm with my Lassie look-alike dog!