Masking my grief: Eulogy for 828 McKinley Avenue, Kellogg, Idaho

Today I pay tribute to a wonderful structure that sheltered our family for almost 6 years. We left this home a little over a year ago, after we bought a new one. We knew we would be the last family to live within its’ walls. We sold our home, knowing some day it would be torn down.

That some day was Tuesday, May 15, 2007.

We knew this was coming, but once you see the pile of wood, and trees and your old hot tub perched on top of a pile of wood, it makes the inevitable rather final.828 McKinley was constructed in 1930 by the Bunker Hill and Sullivan Mining Company. It was right next door to the Bunker Hill office building, which is also being torn down. Over the years it served it many capacities and housed many different families. One of my classmates in grade school lived in that house. A couple different family friends lived in that house. Each of the husbands in these families executives in the Bunker Hill Mining Company.

I remember visiting Kellogg over Fourth of July weekend in July of 2000, and spent some time that weekend looking at houses. It was a rainy, dreary day. I fell in love with this house. It had character. There were hardwood floors, and arched doorways, and French doors, and a big airy kitchen with a view overlooking Kellogg, the town I grew up in, and was now planning to return to live.

We made an offer, it was accepted, and then we waited for our house to sell in Meridian. That seemed like it took forever, but it really only took about 3 months. We lived with my mom, then moved into 828 McKinley in the middle of November. This house would finally become our home.

Right away we loved our home. It had been a vacation rental home for skiers coming into the area, so it was decorated nicely, and we didn’t have to do any fixing up to move in. We laughed in this house. We cried in this house. We yelled in this house. We felt like crawling in a hole and dieing in this house.

Especially when I went through the process of selling it to men who wanted to tear it down and build a condominium.We prayed in this house. We celebrated in this house. We loved in this house. We LIVED in this house.

It was a roller coaster ride I never want to repeat. The process drove me to bed watching West Wing on DVD. It was overwhelming, and I couldn’t deal with the ride any more.

Then in December they came back. I said no. But then my husband took over, and didn’t tell me. He protected me from the talks. But on another cold, rainy day in January, he said he wanted to show me a house. The men had called, and were talking again about buying our house. I looked at the other house. By the end of February, we had sold 828 McKinley, and bought another.
We were able to strip 828 McKinley of many things before the demolition. We have merged two homes into one. Our new home now have crown moldings from the other home. We took doors, windows, toilet, hot water heater, hard wood floors, shelves, to name a few things.

828 McKinley was peaceful and comfortable, and a sanctuary during many troubling times in my life, and the lives of our family. The big maple trees that shaded our house from the sun each summer are now gone. Their beautiful golden leaves each autumn were a showcase in the community. Those trees were close to 80 years old. They didn’t deserve to die this way. I’m glad I didn’t see the large heavy machinery chomp them down.

I will miss 828 McKinley. I feel like I mask my grief, because I’m not sure anyone can understand how painful it is to see 6 years of your life piled up in a garbage heap, ready to be carted off to the dump. No one except the other members of my family.

I feel sad we had to sell it and that it had to be torn down. But it was the right thing to do at the time.

But I could have lived there for the rest of my days.

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