my childohood home is still inhabited by my parents so I think it might miss the point

I think I would probably find it interesting.   We've actually a visit from people who grew up in our house - so that was fun!   And I went a real estate open house at my husband's childhood home - had a lovely chat with the current owner who was quite interested in its history.

Thanks Gord and Carolla. Anybody else?

Interesting. My sister recently visited our childhood home. She was in the neighbourhood, and saw our former neighbour who interoduced her to the people who live there now. The current occupants gave her a tour, and they shared stories. They commented on the soot they found in the attic during renos, and my sister was able to tell them about the small fire my brother started in my parents' bedroom when he was small.  I have looked at it, and the home we left when I was 7 on Google Earth. It was interesting.

I will have to check the website.

Yeah, It's neat how we can look at the old places on Google Earth. My Dad often likes to show me his Uncle's farm in Germany where he remembers spending time as a boy in the 30's and 40's.

Mom and I once knocked on the door of my first home, the one before the one I did my growing up in, and they invited us in and showed us around and we discussed how things had been. I was only 3 when we left, but hazily remembered a couple of things, mainly from photographs probably, and from dreams. It was neat to be there again. More so for my Mom.

As my Dad was a schoolteacher, we moved around a lot.

When I was in my twenties I went back on a camping holiday with a guy who nearly (but not quite!) became my husband.

We went to the village where Dad taught all his five kids at elementary and infant's level. (a one-teacher school).

The house had long since gone - but there was a rope hanging off a tree in what was once the backyard.

"Oh look," I said, "see that rope - Dad made me a swing, and that's all that's left."

That swing was the beginning of my life in the inner world of the imagination. Swinging high, I saw myself on the dais - winning the gold medal for Australia in the 100 yards sprint in the Melbourne Olympic Games of 1956.

The other house I've since re-visited is where I spent my High School years.

Seven years ago I returned with my husband for my High School reunion. We stopped in the nearby village where I had lived and where Dad had taught.

On an impulse I stopped by at the little bush school - which adjoined the school-house where we had lived.

The present Headmistress had married one of Dad's former pupils - a little boy I remember with a cheeky grin.

She graciously took John and I over to my old home.

I was fine until I went into the room I shared with my sister.

It's not an exaggeration to say I felt that closeness we shared - the laughter, the arguments, the times I had to go looking for her (she was a sleepwalker).

She died of motor neurone disease in her thirties.

Fortunately, the present occupant had left us to look around by ourselves.

I burst into tears, and John hugged me close.

I needed my soul mate that day.

One of the last times that I was in my hometown, I knocked on the door of the house I lived in all my life. The woman was very gracious and invited me in to look. My mom and dad are both gone now and it was like walking on hallowed ground. Small but it was a home with a large heart for my sister and me.

Same here.  Still, it might be fun...I wonder what they would make of a "Dear Current Occupants" letter about my childhood.  LOL

Like GordW and MistsOfSpring my parents still live in my childhood home.

Reading this thread I am reminded of this song:

SO good to hear these tales of homes re-visited. I can imagine how that would feel. I have returned to my old elementary school during the summer, and felt really big in a miniturized world, and like I was walking in a dream, and showed my son around, until we got kicked out by the reno contractor!

I'm so sorry for the loss of your sister Pilgrim. How special to have gone there again, and felt that again. And to have John to share it with. I burst into tears yesterday while listening to old songs from my youth, one in particular, and thinking about the loss of my old home. It's been a very long time since I've felt so much emotion about that issue. It just hit me. Writting the letter was helpful, to reflect and get some things out, and to connect. I hope they enjoy it. I decided to send it, with 5 photos. I last drove by a couple years ago. It has changed a lot.

Funny, I was in my home town this afternoon and stopped and gazed at the two houses I had grown up in.  They do look smaller!  I now live in a house that was built in 1946 and at our town's reunion had the opportunity to meet a woman who had grown up here. I encouraged her to visit, and she came in and took pictures and told us many details of the house's history. I was delighted she did that. I encourage others to do it, for their own sake, and for the sake of the folks who live there now!

Thanks Weeze.

Thanks SomeGal From Can, that song and video was very moving, and very appropriate! Thanks very much.

My mother grew up in an outport in Newfoundland that everyone had been moved out of during centralization.  We went back there for a visit when I was 13.  The people had been gone 20-30 years but the houses were still standing.  One had slid, intact, down an inbankment and stood on the beach.  Mom showed me where the cabbage patch was where all the new babies were found and the corner where young men and women would go to make out.  We saw the house and store where she had grown up.  She pointed out the house of the man who owned the only cow.  We peeked in the school house where both of her sisters had taught.  The strangest thing was the thousands of rounded pebbles on the beach that still bore the designs of the broken china that they were made out of.  I picked one up and put it in my pocket.  My mom was crying so I didn't want to upset her more by giving it to her then.  I gave it to her later, and she seemed happy that I had picked it up.  She kept it in her jewelry box.

We sold our family home 12 years ago.  My parents bought the house shortly after they married and my sis and I were raised there.  The house was sold after my last parent passed away.  It is in the community in which I currently live.

I drive by the house fairly often as it is on route to some of the local businesses I visit occasionally.  Since the new owners bought it there are many changes to the outside - new siding, the garden is gone, the shed had been moved, trees have been cut down, the driveway has been totally changed.  There is one structure that remains, an old patio/sundeck which my father and us kids built when we were teenagers.  It always surprises me when I go by that that is one of the structures in the yard they chose to keep.

I have never been inside these past 12 years.  I admit, I am curious.  Perhaps someday I will knock on the door . . .

Every time I visit my sister up north I pass the house where my 3 brothers and 1 sister were born and grew up.  My parents sold our 100 acre farm in the late 60's to people who converted the property to a Golf course.  They added a new addition to create a lunch counter, bar and dining room, and added a large deck for outdoor relaxation. Our family has returned several times.  We celebrated my parent's 50th Wedding Anniversary in the new dining room - the space reserved for our very large group.  It was a memorable occasion.  We returned to celebrate my sister's 65th Birthday, again a family and friends gathering.

Friday night is Fish Fry supper at the golf course so we return periodically for a meal.

Some of my family are golfers, so enjoy the property for the sport.

The Golf course property has changed hands several times, but the new owners, respecting our family roots, make a point of keeping in touch with invitations to visit anytime which is nice.  It helps that my sister lives close by.

What struck me most on my first return visit was the size of everything, especially the upstairs bedrooms.  They were much smaller than I remembered.  I don't really feel any nostalgia when I visit - home is where we make it, and I am happy in my new home and new location where I have lived for 30 years.

That's god Gecko. Being able to visit I think has allowed you to let go, yet you are so welcome there. I think that's great. Ideal even.

SOmegirl, good to hear from you. I really like the story of the china pebble. How neat to see nature turning it back like that. What do you mean about teh cabbage patch babies?!? SOunds like a lovely trip.

Beloved, yes definatley, knock on the door. My Mom is planning on doing just that when she and her siblings return to their hometown next summer.

Elanorgold, you've heard about babies being brought by the stork.  In Newfoundland, or at least my mom's part of it, babies were found under cabbage leaves.

Aha! Maybe that's where Xavier got the idea from...