After going back and forth and back and forth from my parents’ home to my grandpa’s home in SJ, I must say it’s great to be back (again) to the house in SJ where I grew up in. The 2-storey house was built in the 1950s and owned by my maternal grandfather. I think he took part in the design because he was an engineer and he worked in construction then. If memories of my childhood had a smell, it would smell like that house — woodsy and musty and something else — mixed with the scents of my grandfather — musky, vanilla and tobacco.
The last time, I talked a little something about the second floor. This time, let’s go down.
The part of the house that I think is most unique is the flooring of the sala at the ground floor. These mismatched tiles, if I understood correctly, were leftovers from one of my grandfather’s construction projects and he decided to use them instead of disposing them.
I ran, bounced, slid, tripped, rolled and even danced on that floor and now it’s the Little Creature’s turn.
With this giant stereo speaker with the moustache design (one of two), we learned to appreciate classical, American Bandstand, Broadway music and Christmas Carols. My grandfather loved music. We used to have an old turntable. I don’t know where it is now, but we still have some of those big black vinyl records around.
I also used to hide in one of them when my cousins, siblings and I played hide and seek. There’s a panel at the side that we could open to get in. I’m not sure if it should really be opened. I think it was just damaged. Thank goodness my grandfather didn’t play his Joan Sutherland records while I was inside.
Below is an old painting of the countryside I guess. I do not know who painted this. Maybe someone whose last name was Ocampo because I used to hear about a neighbor whose last name was Ocampo and that he was an artist and a friend of the family. I never met him.
Here are two portraits which used to creep me out.
My older cousins used to tell me that they come alive at night. I was scared to go downstairs and sometimes at night, I would strain to hear sounds to confirm if they really were moving around. But my grandfather said that these were portraits of National Artists Nicanor Abelardo (left) and Antonio Molina (right) so I wasn’t scared anymore despite their creepy eyes which seemed to follow you around. I am not sure why we have a portrait of Nick but Tony was some distant relative. Back then, Molinas were known to be great musicians. I think some descendants of his are still musicians.
There are still a lot of clutters at home. Who knows what creepy life forms lurk under all those thingamajigs? When I find the time (and courage), I will dig into all those old bags and closets and and search the old toys which I could pass on to the Little Creature.