Here's a picture of the house in which we lived from 1969 to 1973. It's 1521 9th Street in Boulder, Colorado. It's a small, old Craftsman, probably right out of the Sears, Roebuck catalog, which retained, in those years, many of its original dark-wood-and-stained-glass beauties. It was good to us but there weren't enough bedrooms for a young family of five. The rent was so low ($130 a month) that we were able to save a few dollars for a down payment on larger quarters.
The photograph comes from a real estate advertisement. 1521 is up for sale for (gasp) $1.3 million, ten times what it sold for in the '80s.
We had rented the place sight unseen and then in August drove the Dodge across the country. I remember how excited we were to arrive at such a handsome respectable home after four years of apartment living. I loved the house and would have bought it, but in the summer of 1972, when we returned to Boulder from Vermont, it was clear that we couldn't fit comfortably into such crowded quarters, however beautiful.
So we started the search. The offspring were unanimously adamant that we must remain in the Flatirons Elementary School district. They were so wise.
Warm memories of 1521. It was this house that welcomed Eve in June of 1970.
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