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The Goodyear family – all nine "Goodies" plus Ralph and Josephine lived in the former La Grange Train Station,
which Pops remodeled to be the home Joey described below. It made perfect sense, as Ralph's job
with the Postal Service was to sort the mail – which was done right on the train – between stops.
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Tall trees, grey house, big yard with thick grass.
Lilacs and peonies, sunflowers and hollyhocks.
Model T. and Model A, Studebaker, Nash and Lafayette.
Garage and chicken coop; hammock and swings.
From years gone by I recall these things.
High ceilings and linoleum floors.
Long closed-in porch with massive doors.
A small closet in the corner stuffed with shoes
Flanked by wide drawers with radio above,
And a large storage unit with doors of tin.
Big lace curtained panes of glass
Above a long window seat,
And there’s the table with a mixture of chairs,
Topped with oil cloth and the evening meal;
Hamburger, potatoes and stewed tomatoes,
Which we attacked with considerable zeal.
Or maybe it’s Tuesday and we’re having chop suey,
Or a Friday with canned salmon and creamed peas.
Desserts were infrequent, but we never went hungry,
And sometimes we had “college” cheese.
Bathroom with troublesome pull-chain toilet.
Where is the tub? It’s a family secret.
Near a porcelain sink and an old gas stove,
Stood the kitchen m’cabinet,
You heard me right; that’s what we called it.
Don’t ask me why—just force of habit.
Over yonder is the hidden bathtub.
At the far end hung the coats we wore.
The sewing machine here, and the ice box beyond,
Right there, next to the door.
The bedroom was located in the southwest corner,
Just beyond Virginia’s closet,
With a small wooden bridge leading to it.
Our big clothes closet had lots of space.
It was great for climbing and a swell hiding place.
The front room was located in the back.
It held Papa’s desk and little more;
The piano came much later, the stork came before.
The place was no palace, I say without malice.
The floods in the basement were a source of amazement,
But actually caused little harm
And the unused gas jets of a previous age lent
The old homestead a dubious charm.
Yes, that was our house as I first recall it.
Although it was constantly changing.
Though hard on the wallet
The need to overhaul it was there.
And the carpenter owner, a lovable loner,
Had skill and energy rare.
A man from the farm
And a pretty school marm
Accomplished an awful lot.
They raised us all nine,
And they did mighty fine,
And that was the thick of the plot.
So we’ll open the check-draft and bank the fire,
And wind the clock before we retire
For the night which is cold.
We’ll douse the light and in darkness enfold
Those wonderful memories of GOODYEARS gone by,
And dream of those days of yore.
And should the temperature drop out of sight
We’ll come in the house and sleep on the floor.
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