The House That Built Me: 8317 Loganberry

A little piece of Heaven. That is what the house on Loganberry street was for me. I lived in the same house from the time I was 4, until I turned 19. I got married, moved across town, but would frequently travel back to Loganberry on Sunday afternoons. My parents still lived in that house until we left for Law School in 2004 (I was 24). They have since moved on. But so many of my memories are tied to this house. I spent so much of my life there. 

When I think of home, I think of Loganberry.

It was a big house, with lots of different levels. It was built just a few years after the great 1964 earthquake, that damaged a lot of the area. (Earthquakes are a regular event in Alaska.) The house had an upstairs with 3 bedrooms, a main level with a living room and kitchen, a lower level family room and laundry room, and a large finished basement with 2 bedrooms. It was a house with lots of funny spaces, and a bunch of stairs that you could run up and down. It had a good sized front yard, and a decent sized backyard -- all chain link fenced, so no privacy from the neighbors.

To me, the house was perfect. 

I have so many memories of a charmed childhood living there. We just had so much fun. Life was not free from trials and troubles, but being home seemed to make it all better. I preferred home to anywhere else. It was a happy place. There was so much life, and joy there. 

Our house was always open to people. That is my parents way -- the door is always open, people rarely knocked, they would just come in. (I have not inherited that open-door ability from them, please knock!) The house was always full of people. 

We would often have relatives, grandmas, and older siblings with children living at the house. The house was full of visitors and friends. My parents wanted the house to be where everyone would come to hang out, and so we had a variety of things for entertainment like ping-pong, a pool table, a hot tub, and a movie projector. The fridge(s) were always full, and there were always hot-pockets in the freezer. 

We often had random people come to stay at our house, too. My dad was the Bush Branch President at one point, and we would have all sorts of interesting people come stay in our house from the extremely remote areas of Alaska. I remember one time a cute boy came to stay for a little while, and I gave him a hair cut. Our home was always packed on Thanksgiving, too, everyone came for the party. (My mom is  over-the-top when it comes to holidays.) 

So much life was lived there, in my little piece of heaven. There were baptisms, wedding receptions, baby blessings, birthdays, graduations, Christmas, and all holidays and events. There was playing, and loving, and growing close together as a family. 

I learned to ride my bike in the driveway. I learned to play basketball using the hoop in the front yard. I learned how to play Volleyball by bumping the ball against the shed. I spent warm Spring afternoons in the treetops, just dreaming, and thinking. I learned to sing while gathered around my mother's piano. I learned to love Jesus by having the gospel infused into the fiber of our lives and home. 

When we first moved into the house it was all sorts of crazy colors and weird materials on the inside. The kitchen counters were yellow, the flooring was brick red, the basement had carpet with the colors yellow, brick, and brown woven through it. There was wood panelling on the walls, and florescent lights that hummed. Sometimes the house flooded in the spring, and you could often hear mice scurrying across the ceiling while trying to sleep. The downstairs toilet was always running, and you had to flip the handle to make it stop. The neighborhood was not extremely desirable, we had neighbors involved in all sorts of questionable things. 

But it was home! 

As I continue my search for a home, and continue to search my feelings, I have learned a lot. I have found that it is not so much about finding the perfect home, it is about creating loving relationships, and inviting a heavenly atmosphere -- no matter where you are. I have lived in weird enough circumstances to know this is true. I even lived in a "fancy home" for awhile, and I found that living in a more "upscale" area does not change the way you feel on the inside. Happiness is not found in things. 

Home is really where the heart is. Home is where memories are made. Home is all about love. 

I was very, very, blessed to grow up in a home that was full of love. The actual house on Loganberry street does hold happy memories for me -- but when I really think about it, I realize the love in my heart for the home was all about the people, not the walls.  It was all about family -- not the address. 

No matter where life may take us, or where we choose to go, my family will always be with me! So no matter where we live, no matter what house becomes ours, it can be "perfect" for us. 

Home can be a little piece of Heaven, just like 8317 Loganberry!  

(I know it is about the people, but gee, there was still something special about that house…) 

Really random pictures from the Loganberry house…  

Snuggling with my baby nephew. My brother's family lived with us for awhile after he was born. I loved having a baby in the house!

Getting my sister ready for a dance in the basement bathroom...

Hanging in my favorite tree, with my big sister, Kary. The smell of the flowers were intoxicating! 

Christmas! I LOVED Christmas! Check out my presents… Oh yeah, Barbie, and Rainbow Bright! 

Our home was full of music, always. 

There is a big age-gap between the siblings. My sister was ready for prom (nice hair!), and I was wishing I was my sister. (That is me in the glasses.) 

 Posing on the front steps that were soon to become a new front deck. 

Just doing some quality reading in my room ... Sweet Valley Twins. I think that is the best picture of me, ever. 

Winter was something special in Alaska. My worst winter ever was breaking my leg in junior high. Ugh. It still hurts thinking about it! Luckily, I got to heal at the Loganberry house. 

My bedroom when I was a teenager. I collected frogs. I lived in the basement with the spiders. I could also conveniently climb out the window, if I wanted to get out for some fresh air. ;-) 

This was the TV room, where a lot of "hanging out" went on. 

My brother's family would come visit after they moved out to Eagle River. 

 The house was used for everything. This is a baby shower I had, right before Sammi was born. 

 We always had friends over. That open-door policy was really something! My parents were so brave! 

Getting ready for a dance… 

 Christmas PJs! 

This was the day we left for Spokane. My family gathered at Loganberry, we gave hugs, and cried as we left, and we have never moved back… 

 We would often have visitors from other states who would come to check out Alaska. (It is a hot tourist spot!) My friend Melinda came and stayed with us for awhile. 

 There were proms, and dates, and friends that were boys. 

 We would visit Loganberry on Sundays, after we were married. 

 There was always food in the kitchen, and often goodie plates ready to go somewhere… 

Christmas. Oh, Christmas… 

The little kids would just run about the whole house. There were so many places to go, and so much to do! 

Endless birthday parties. We always kept them family parities. 

Family. Lots of family. This is my nephew and niece. 

The gazebo my parents built in the backyard. 

Hanging out in my sister's room. Notice the temple on the wall. The gospel was just a part of our lives. 

Friends! Lots of parties and friends! 

At one point I had an extra bed in my room for my friend, Emily, because she was over so much. (That was before the no sleep-over rule.) Notice the pictures on my bedroom wall, and the book she is reading. :-) 

I was very lucky to grow-up the way that I did, and I know it. The first time Charles stepped foot in the Loganberry house he said, "Wow, this is amazing!" He was not talking about the furniture and fancy things, he was talking about the spirit you could feel as soon as you walked through the door. That was something that was created by love, and by the efforts of my parents. 

That love was magic! And I am grateful I have known it, and I try to create that for my family! 

Click on the map for a street view of Loganberry…  Click "View on Google maps" 

I recently found a listing for the Loganberry house, and as I looked through the pictures, it looks NOTHING like it did when we lived there. It does not feel like home to look at it now. Which proves a house is just a house. A home is something entirely different -- a home is a place in your mind that captures all of your memories. You can take it with you wherever you go!

For more info on the Loganberry house go: HERE. (Can you believe how much it has gone up in value, dad? Wow!)

The reality is, the house was the place that I lived, but it was my family that built me.

So all we ever really need is a place to build our family. The rest of the stuff is just details.