On August 22, 1974, I was a bright-eyed 18-year-old AFS foreign exchange student, when I arrived in Lakewood, New York. The Saxton family took me in for a year and made me one of theirs within the first few hours of my arrival. When we pulled up to the house at 22 E. Summit, they had hoisted two flags, the German one next to the American one. I took this picture within a few hours of arriving there on that hot August evening, the first day of a drastically changed life.
I gave the camera to my host sister Val who then took this picture of me by the flag. Check out my crazy cut-off shorts! The kids never let me hear the end of it, and those shorts went into the trash quickly never to be worn again.
Here is a view from the side of the house, looking toward the street. The house that was to be my home for the next year was so drastically different from the house in Germany that I had just left. The entire architecture in America is very different from that in Germany.
Many months later I went outside and took another picture of the place in winter, with the icicles pointing down from the roof.
Here I am in the hallway toward the end of the year, a proud high school graduate. By then, 22 E. Summit had become as much my home as any place in my life. I still remember the countless hours lying on my back on the thick, plush carpet, next to the stereo, listening the Elton John records using the headphones: “Ticking, Ticking, don’t ever ride on the devil’s knee, Momma said.”
Five years later, in the summer of 1979, I brought my German parents to the U.S. and we drove across the country from Arizona to New York. While we were there, my stepfather and I painted the house. Here we are, he on the left, myself on the right, working away in the hot summer morning.
The Saxtons sold the house within a couple of years after that and moved on with their lives, and so did I.
Now let’s turn the clock forward 40 years to last Sunday, Father’s Day 2019. My sister Val and I drove by the old place. It is now long abandoned and tagged by the authorities. There is a red warning sign on the wall. The place is infested with mold, bed bugs and anything else you can imagine after being left to the elements for years. I assume it will eventually be torn down. There are no other options left.
The yard is overgrown and the house is literally crumbling.
Here I am in front of the steps where I stood in my cutoff with fringes 45 years ago as a boy.
Looking in I see that the place is completely gutted. I can see the spot where I stood when I had my graduation picture taken. I see where the couch used to be where I watched Gilligan’s Island after school every afternoon, where I learned listening to rapidly spoken English in the first couple of months. The old house is full of memories.
No visit to the old house would be complete without a parting selfie. Here we are, Val and I, after a lifetime of memories and a friendship that started in these very rooms so long ago.
Good bye, 22 E. Summit.
Interesting, thanks for sharing.
great story with pictures – but damn! – how did they let that house go?
funny – i just looked at every detail of a picture of my AFS family at dinner – with also uncle aunt and 2 cousins – my AFS dad dead, my AFS mom still with us at 97, and these rest of us all in touch on FB !!
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I left a comment on your website, but that seems to be a shell that you’re not checking. I didn’t know you were an AFSer, and so I realize I do not know who you are. ‘ervmiller’ does not ring a bell. Do we know each other?
Purchased house from the owner (who was originally from my hometown of Busti,NY) in 1960-house was in need of some TLC which took a lot of work by the family. Raised my family here and is sad to see the damage from all the neglect. Nice to see the pics of the house in its heyday.
Thanks, Dad. Loved that place!
You’re the one who made the difference! It’s all about love; and investment!
Thanks, Eric!
Well written – what a great history of you and your awesome host dad. If you had kept those cutoff shorts maybe they’d be worth something now on Ebay 😉
Thanks, Mark!
Wow, there is something sad about the whole story. But the selfie at the end makes me smile. You and Val are obviously doing well! The minute a house does not have a devoted owner who spends long hours keeping it up, it starts to disappear.
Old photos: good for all kinds of emotions… For sad, I think ‘”poignant”.
Re the fringe (“ruffle”) cutoffs: pity about the crotch patch. Does does something about you, though…
My sister (Betsy Carlson on the Story Club PDFs) rented a house on a ravine in Lompoc, B.C. (their outdoor privy was hung off the ravine side on the wide-ish porch)…when they moved on, their little house was used as practice for the local fire department. Poignant…
And, that enthusiastic young man is still inside you. Stay curious, my friend. 😀
(P.S. I am finally back on-line after many, many days of MAC OS (and Photoshop — aargh! ) updates and getting all my peripherals to play nicely.)
Story Club PDFs will follow, but a little late. 😀
Should be “does say” not “does does” — rusty fingers…
Oh, yes, the cutoffs! There were many things about the “old” life vs. the “new” life, after changing cultures at age 18, that taught me many lessons! Thanks for the update. Yes, fodder for the fire department at this point.
Norbert — Eric told me about this post on 22 E. Summit — I spent many hours at that house playing cards with Paul, just a couple of years before you came to the US. I drove by the lot this past week and, sadly, there is now an empty lot where the house used to be. Hope you’re doing well–
Clark Petrie
Hi Clark – so nice to hear from you! I just saw this response NOW. Yes, I have many memories of that place.