Houses & Homes

I find it interesting when you move into a new neighborhood (or when someone moves into your neighborhood) that the tendency is to refer to the house by the previous owner. The conversation usually goes something like this:

John: “Hi, we’re John and Jane Doe. We just moved in down the street.”

Steve: “Oh, hi y’all. Which house?”

John: “714. The red brick with the black shutters.”

Steve: “Oh, you mean the Smith’s house. We really miss them (pause), but. . . that’s great. Welcome to the neighborhood!”

If I’m John Doe (and I have been on both sides of this conversation), I’m thinking, “No. Not the Smith’s house. It’s our house. I paid Mr. Smith for it. It’s the Doe’s house now.”

Neighborhoods are funny that way. There are some neighborhoods in which we’ve lived where the house has changed hands multiple times but is still referred to by the original owner’s name(s). It’s not that you necessarily like the previous owners better; it’s just that you knew them better than people who have just moved in.

I think we do this because it’s people—more than places—that make houses into homes. 

In fact, in 1992, I wrote a song about this. Mom and Dad sold the house in which I’d spent my entire childhood. I loved that house. I’ve tried to buy it twice since we came back to town, but the folks who bought it from Mom and Dad love it as much as we did!

The day before they closed on it, I went and spent the night there in my old room. No bed, no covers. Just memories. Here’s part of the country song I wrote the next day. . .

Houses Into Homes (May, 1992)

Mom and Dad signed the papers today

They bought a new house; sold the old one away

I stopped by my old home, just for a stroll

I stared at the bare walls and listened to the stories they told

For many years the house had been a home

Did it seem so empty because the furniture was gone

Voices in the walls said, "Son, you best move along,

'Cause it's people more than places that make the houses into homes.”

     And a house just ain't a home without your kin

     And a hometown's just a place without your friends

     It's what's inside that keeps us alive

     And it's the people more than places that really matter...

     in the end