Two years ago, a friend messaged me, letting me know that my old family home in the historic “Silk Stocking” neighborhood in Kokomo, Indiana was for sale. Perusing that listing, even though the home was clearly in poor condition, jogged so many memories.
I found several photos from when we lived there and positioned them in the rooms as they were photographed in April of 2023. You can take a look, here.
I was shocked at that time at the low price of the property at $89K, even considering its condition and its advanced age. The house was built in 1915, although the Zillow listing says 1925, which leads me to wonder if it was initially wired for either electricity or fitted for plumbing. I know it was built with two fireplaces, likely for heat.
Of course, for all I knew, in 2023, it might even still have had the old boiler – so who really knew how extensive the remodel would need to be? And why are some of the radiators still visible in the home today?
Fast forward.
A classmate messaged me again, this time with a listing for the fully remodeled home, now for sale again at $219.9K.
Some of the photos from the 2023 listing showed areas in the home that aren’t shown this time, and vice versa.
I realize this isn’t your home, but perhaps you can use some of the same techniques to overlay your photos. I love house history as well as genealogy. Plus, who doesn’t enjoy a good story?
Maybe finding real estate listings of your family home will cause you to reflect as well.
Let’s take a virtual tour.
The front porch hasn’t changed much at all. Not in two years. Not in 50. Even the address plaque is the same.
We used to grow beautiful blue Morning Glories that wrapped their tendrils around those green wooden trellises that were painted green, even back then.
Of course, your attention is supposed to be on THIS house, but I immediately noticed the neighbor’s huge home, which was incredibly unique and always fascinated me. Rumor has it that they eventually owned both houses. I’m glad they didn’t just tear the smaller one down to expand their yard.
On the upper portion of the chimney is a decorative piece of iron that always looked to me like a backward S. It’s still there, and so are other historic features. Those two quarter-circle windows in the attic always looked like insect eyes to me. This house is very symmetrical.
I still miss the tree that was located where the dark marks are to the right, near the driveway in the yard. I had a stump “treehouse” of sorts that I sat in there and read books in the summer. I loved to read and spent hours here!
I do wonder what happened to the bricks between the doors. A fireplace is on the other side.
The street looks pretty much the same except that ALL of the plants on the hill and the beautiful mature maple trees in the front yard are gone now. We grew Periwinkle there because that hill next to the sidewalk was steep and difficult to mow.
The rear of the house looks pretty much the same as it did in 2023, although all of the windows in the entire home have now been replaced. The garage is gone and was two years ago, replaced by the white fencing, which I’m sure simply serves as a visual barrier for the edge of the pavement where the garage used to be. This entire area was much more inviting when we lived there. Now, it just looks sterile and utilitarian.
I’m impressed that the big pine tree is still there. Mom and I used to have weekend picnics in the backyard on a quilt under its sheltering branches. We used to lay out here to suntan.
All the grass and perennials are gone now. The electrical service was installed originally when we lived there so that the upstairs “apartment” could have its own service and be billed separately. It terminated in the kitchen – and that electrical box helped me orient in the new rooms. The upstairs apartment kitchen was located in the upper right corner. Our kitchen table sat right behind that window and the pine tree, much smaller then, was the view.
We lived in the upstairs apartment for the dozen years we owned this house, entering through a side door, marked as the foyer in the drawing below.
This downstairs floor plan will help in understanding the way the home is laid out today.
Previously, the three large windows in the lower left that now grace the eat-in kitchen led to a bedroom, but (I think) with fewer windows. The downstairs kitchen was small, and the back door was how the downstairs residents usually gained entry, although they could have entered through the front doors, too.
Today, what I remember as a relatively dark bedroom is a light, cheery eat-in portion of a kitchen. The wall between what was then the kitchen and bedroom has been removed.
The original kitchen here was trolley-style, just on the right side outer wall where the sink and dishwasher are today, and included only a stove, sink and a few cabinets. The refrigerator stood on the wall that was been removed. You can see it in the 2023 photos.
This room, including this entire half of the downstairs, has been entirely redesigned.
You can see the back door here. The original kitchen was only to the right of the door, and the hallway led straight from the back door through what is now the cabinets. It’s a solid wall today. I love that they included the floorplan drawings so I can orient myself.
The door from the bedroom into the hallway appears to be where the fridge is located today. You can see where the wall between the kitchen and bedroom was removed.
A fireplace is centered on the outside wall of the living room, which spans the full the width of the house.
You can’t see in the 2025 photo, but there’s a doorway on the right in the living room leading to a small hallway and a very small bathroom. When we lived there, it had a toilet, sink, and small shower that had been built in what I believe was originally a closet when the house was turned into two apartments.
This isn’t the apartment where we lived, so this living room doesn’t evoke memories for me.
I did notice that the carpet has been removed, exposing the beautiful original floors, which have been refinished.
The fireplace is still original.
I’m not quite sure what the mirror is covering up. I don’t remember anything structural being behind it.
At the end of the living room, you’ll notice a small closet and a door to the left, which leads to the side entry foyer.
This photo looks across the foyer, past the stairs at the right, and into the end of the living room, where the closet is visible.
When we lived here, the door from the living room and its identical twin on the other side, which led to the bedroom, could be closed and locked, affording residents of both apartments privacy. Ironically, those doors were almost never locked. The side entrance was how Mom and I entered to go upstairs to our apartment.
I notice that while most of the old radiators are now gone, this one is not. It also doesn’t look original. Ours were painted.
I don’t recall ever having seen the full wood floors, so I think they had all been covered with carpet prior to Mom purchasing the property. Upstairs, the carpet wasn’t “wall-to-wall,” but still covered all but a few inches on each side. I remember itchy grey-green wool carpet.
Today, the house has been restored to a one-family residence, but when we lived there, the side entrance had its own mailbox, and the address was 530 ½ W. Sycamore, while the front was just 530.
Today, the second floor has been reestablished as bedrooms, and had been by 2023. Note that the fireplace in the front bedroom is in the same location in the front of the house as the fireplace in the living room downstairs.
The back right bedroom was originally the kitchen. In yesteryear, the kitchen sink and a couple of small cabinets were located in what appears to be a reconstructed closet today. The refrigerator stood alone on the wall to the right as you walked into that room. Since the side of the fridge is what you saw immediately when entering the kitchen, it’s where we put notes and other reminders.
The bottom right bedroom in the drawing was Mom’s bedroom, although it was in the rear of the house.
The “primary bedroom” was divided into two: the bottom third, partitioned by a (now removed) wall, was my bedroom, and the rest of the room, which is now the full width of the house, was the upper apartment’s living room.
The area labeled as the hall was a nice-sized bedroom closet for me that held a dresser beneath the window, hanging rods, and shelves.
The rear of the hall was the door that led to the attic, which was planked and had a light, but was unfinished – AND COLD in the winter! We used it for storage, and all kinds of treasures from Mom’s dancing career were to be found in boxes and suitcases.
I was discouraged from looking at those and asking too many questions, so of course, I was fascinated by the forbidden fruit and Mom’s former life that accompanied those beautiful sequined costumes. Yes, indeed, a treasure trove!
Mom knew unquestionably that I’d look in that suitcase, so when she passed, that’s where she left me the story of her “crazy mixed-up life, but it wasn’t all bad.”
The wall that sectioned off my bedroom was installed between the window and the fireplace mantle – closer to the fireplace. A twin size bed just fit between the window frame and the (now removed) wall.
On the other side of the wall, my Mom’s secretary, where I did homework, stood for years. It fit, but you couldn’t open it if it was scooted any closer to the outside wall, so a decorative basket stood between the secretary and the wall.
The room today is the full width of the home in the front of the house, mirroring exactly the living room downstairs.
There’s so much white paint on those fireplace bricks that shy of sandblasting, there’s no prayer of ever removing it. The fireplace was already painted white when we moved there.
One of the few things not remodeled since 2023 is the ceiling wallpaper.
The door to the left leads to the hall which was my closet, and then upstairs to the attic.
To the left of the bed, out of sight in the photo, is the hallway to the other two bedrooms and the stairs descending downstairs.
Yesterday’s kitchen is now a small bedroom.
Needless to say, there is nothing here today reminiscent of the kitchen that we had installed when we purchased the house and turned the upstairs into an apartment. The downpayment and remodel, back then, was thanks to Mom’s inheritance from my grandparents. This home provided us with stability and income to help with the payment.
Using the outdoor clues and the electrical box on the wall of the former kitchen, I was able to identify this room.
Back in the day, our cream-colored Formica kitchen table with brown trim, much larger than this one, stood in this corner. It had six chairs with leg-adhering vinyl or plastic-covered seats.
The stove was to the left of the window, and the few cabinets were located beside it, in the corner out of sight, at left, and beside the sink on the other wall. The kitchen was small, but I guess we never really considered that. It was big enough for us, and by 2023, it was already gone.
I have some fantastic memories of this kitchen, including my grandmother’s ever-present salt and pepper shakers, sugar bowl, and a toothpick holder.
I learned to sew on the old kitchen table using Mom’s black Singer Featherweight sewing machine that she had used back in the day to create those beautiful, mystical dance costumes. Of course, we ate on that table, so the sewing project had to be put away every day. No luxury of leaving it out so you could just pick up and start sewing again.
I also typed my school reports facing out that back window on an old Olivetti manual typewriter, making liberal use of CorrectType. If you don’t know what those are, it’s just as well.
That A5 report on King Louis XIV that I typed at this table is what earned me a scholarship to Europe to study in Switzerland and France during the summer of 1970 – an opportunity that dramatically changed my life. We weren’t allowed to use correction papers or fluid on that report, so if you made a mistake and messed up a page, you had to put another sheet of paper in and start over.
That humble kitchen table, which stood where that innocuous white table stands today, altered my life in ways that are still reflected in who I am today.
Oh, the talks we had there…
Never underestimate the power of a kitchen table.
The linen closet was outside the kitchen door, between the stairs and Mom’s bedroom, and across from the bathroom. Today, that space houses a stackable washer and dryer, a drastic improvement over hauling dirty clothes to the washer in the basement, down two flights of stairs, and back up, or to the laundromat. Generally, the person living in the other apartment didn’t mind us using the laundry facilities. We shared them, but we had to plan around their schedule since we were in and out of their apartment to access the basement. Today, this type of arrangement would be unheard of.
Mom’s bedroom was in the back corner, closest to the huge house next door. In fact, it overlooked the shared driveway. I’m sure it’s gone today, but there used to be a radiator to the left of that window, the view obstructed by the pillows. The old phone table, which, ironically, I still have, stood beneath the rear window. If a friend called, Mom would answer, come get me, and then I would flop on Mom’s bed while talking.
If it was a boyfriend and we talked for “too long,” Mom would wander through like she was checking something and give me the all-knowing evil eye.
Mom’s vanity, which I also still have and absolutely love, stood against the wall at right, next to the white closet door. I can look at the photo of the present-day bedroom and see her vanity sitting there.
If I focus my eyes in the distance and let my mind wander, I can see her there too, and feel those memories flooding back.
Our collective lives often revolved around this room. Getting ready for school, church, or a date – putting on makeup, or in this case, getting ready for the prom. Talking on the phone, and even just listening to the radio in the mornings for important local information about work or school as Mom and I got ready to leave – preparing for whatever that day held in store.
I even remember what was written on that tiny piece of paper, clipped from something, and slipped into the mirror frame. “It’s not what you say, but how you say it.” I’m pretty sure me remembering it was the entire not-so-subtle point.
When I inherited Mom’s vanity, I left it pretty much as it was. That china tray, which was my grandmother’s, still lives there, and Mom’s hairbrush still resides in the drawer, as do many of her other personal items. So many memories of just everyday things. At that time, they were unremarkable. Today, they mean the world.
Our bathroom was small. When we first moved into the residence, a larger mirror was glued to the wall where this mirror is affixed today. It was supposed to be screwed in with brackets, but it wasn’t. I had just finished brushing my teeth and walked out the bathroom door when I heard the most horrific, frightening crash and glass shattering. The mirror had fallen and broken, of course, scattering glass shards everyplace – in a bathroom. Had it hit the back of my head while I was brushing my teeth over that sink, it would probably have killed me.
We had a bathtub that included a shower that can be seen in the 2023 photos, but now they have a walk-in shower in this bathroom.
There’s a soaking tub elsewhere that came as a complete surprise.
The attic is now beautifully finished, and, I’m sure, heated. You could see it has been begun in 2023 when the project was apparently abandoned.
This attic bathroom is the entire size of the house, minus the rafter area, which is too short to be accessed.
The other end of the attic, towards the front, is also finished, with the brick fireplace exposed.
I recognize the original floor planks. They weren’t finished back then, and were dark brown from years of attic dirt and dust. They look a lot better today.
I can’t help but think that I wouldn’t want to climb to the third floor to take a bath, and it amused me to no end to read how the realtor describes this feature.
I guess it’s all a matter of perspective.
The last photo, which I was actually surprised to see in the listing, was the basement.
I never really thought much about the basement, but I have a surprising number of memories.
It wasn’t exactly an inviting area. Today, the walls are painted white, but back then, I don’t remember it being painted at all and the only color I associate with the basement is “grey,” as in “dark and grey.” It was also damp.
We had hot water heat, which meant a boiler, which Mother was terrified of. Boilers were pressurized and occasionally exploded, spraying boiling water everyplace and on anyone unfortunate enough to be anyplace close. If you were in the basement and the boiler blew, your goose was cooked along with the rest of you.
The basement was actually more like a quarter basement. I don’t recall it having concrete on the floor back then, but it could have. There were “entrance holes” to the underside of the rest of the house from that cavern. I always wondered what lived under there – monsters, I was sure.
It wasn’t as tall as a normal room and was barely high enough for an adult to stand upright.
As you stepped from the bottom step onto the floor, the boiler was directly in front of you and to the left.
The boiler seemed alive and made terrible noises. We could hear them in the radiators, and we called it Mr. Clank.
Initially, we had a washer but no dryer, which was located near the hot water heater today. I don’t recall the hot water heater then, but clearly, there was one. Maybe it was somehow connected to the boiler.
In any event, we hung the clothes to dry, either on a line in the backyard, one here in the basement, a collapsible spider-shaped clothes drying rack, or over the shower rod in the bathroom. Wet clothes were a lot heavier going back up those stairs than dirty ones were going down. We hand-washed a lot of things, like underwear and hose, by hand in the sink.
When the washing machine broke, we started going to the laundromat because it cost too much to fix the washer or buy a new one. I actually liked the laundromat, in part because it was light and cheery, not grey, and we got to go someplace. We also got to dry the clothes in a dryer there, too, meaning fewer wrinkles and less ironing, and there was ice cream at the dairy near the laundromat. Win-win if you’re a kid!
My most vivid memory of the basement, though, occurred on Palm Sunday in April of 1965.
That was the day that a series of more than 55 devasting F4 tornadoes, many more than a mile wide, ripped through central Indiana, including Kokomo – and would be forever known as the Palm Sunday Tornadoes.
In 1965, there were no early-warning systems. No sirens. Nothing on the radio.
In a town north of Kokomo, these double-funnel clouds swirling around each other swept everything away. They were followed by others in the exact same place a little later the same evening.
Our house stood on a hill, so when I looked out my bedroom window, I was looking over the treetops of Foster Park, across Wildcat Creek, and could see a significant distance to the south. An old Indian legend said that they would not live south of the Wildcat, and that Sunday, we learned why.
Late that afternoon or perhaps early evening, I finished my homework and was standing in my room, looking out the window at the green-colored storm sky, thinking that I had never seen a sky that color before. It was dusky, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of the time of day, or the intensity of the storm – and I really wasn’t thinking much about it.
My mother hurried into my room and said I needed to come with her. I could hear the urgency in her voice.
I tarried and started to argue because that sky was SO interesting. It was MOVING – swirling.
Skies didn’t do that. It was so COOL!!!
She grabbed my hair and screamed at me, literally screaming, “COME DOWNSTAIRS NOW!” What? We never went downstairs. We lived upstairs.
Mother was a small woman, but she half dragged me as I half stumbled-ran to keep up with her. I had no idea WHERE we were going, but I had no choice in the matter. She had my hair in her clutches, and that woman was not about to let go.
She was flying down the stairs like her shoes had wings.
As we hit the first landing, by the side door, I heard a terrible crash someplace upstairs.
The entire house shook.
I can’t believe she could run faster, dragging me – but she could and did.
We had to round the corner, run through the living room, around the next corner, open the door, and hightail it down the basement steps.
She somehow managed to slam the basement door behind us.
By now, I was utterly terrified.
Another crash – and another.
The house shuddered.
Then another.
Deafening.
Mom covered both of us up in the corner, as best she could, with something. I don’t remember what. She sheltered behind and beside that terrifying boiler, between it and the wall in the smallest of spaces. We were pressed tightly together, clutching each other. She covered my head with her arms and held me close.
I remember thinking that whatever was wrong must be atrocious because she was more afraid of it than of that boiler. In fact, right then, the boiler seemed like a good friend. A protector. I could feel the metal, including maybe a bolt or seam, and its heat against my skin.
Strange what we remember, isn’t it?
I was trying to ask Mom what was happening, but the noise was deafening and it was pitch black. I remember very barely hearing the word “tornado.” She was screaming, but I’m not sure if I heard her voice or somehow just sensed her terror.
We stayed in the basement for a long time after the train wreck sound had abated.
I realize now that Mom knew from growing up on a farm that tornadoes sometimes arrived in clusters. That night, tornadoes swept across a wide swath of Indiana multiple times – including Kokomo and vicinity.
The storm outside continued.
We didn’t know what had caused the crashes, so we didn’t know if or when we were safe to exit – or what we faced. No power and no flashlights either – at least not in the basement. Later, we had an emergency kit down there with candles and matches, but not that day.
As it turned out, the large maple tree beside the house had split and fallen on the roof. The multiple crashes were multiple parts of that tree, or maybe parts of two trees. Some may have been debris from other houses too. It was a mess.
We were the lucky ones. No life lost. House not destroyed. Nearby, just south of town, entire neighborhoods and small neighbor towns were wiped from the face of the earth. People we knew died.
We were incredibly relieved to discover that our very frightened cat, Snowball, had hidden and survived. She even let us pick her up when we located her. Mom and I wrapped our arms around her together and sobbed. Our small family was safe.
But then, we looked outside. We couldn’t see a lot, but it was enough. Plus, I’ll never forget the sirens and red flashing lights, which were the only way we could see much of anything. It was raining and the lights were reflecting off of everything. Fire trucks had to stop and pull debris out of the road before they could pass. Someone stopped to ask if we were alright when they saw the trees and the roof. It was a very, very long night.
More storms came and went.
It wouldn’t be until daylight in the morning that we understood the gravity of the situation our neighbors and community were facing. So much was simply gone. Wiped away. Only rubble left.
But we were safe that night, thanks to that scary, frightening, sheltering basement.
It’s amazing the memories that a picture of a basement can resurface.
______________________________________________________________
Sign Up Now – It’s Free!
If you appreciate this article, subscribe to DNAeXplain for free, to automatically receive new articles by e-mail each week.
Here’s the link. Just look for the black “follow” button on the right-hand side on your computer screen below the black title bar, enter your e-mail address, and you’re good to go!
In case you were wondering, I never have nor ever will share or use your e-mail outside of the intended purpose.
_____________________________________________________________
Share the Love!
You’re always welcome to forward articles or links to friends and share on social media.
If you haven’t already subscribed (it’s free,) you can receive an e-mail whenever I publish by clicking the “follow” button on the main blog page, here.
You Can Help Keep This Blog Free
I receive a small contribution when you click on some of the links to vendors in my articles. This does NOT increase your price but helps me keep the lights on and this informational blog free for everyone. Please click on the links in the articles or to the vendors below if you are purchasing products or DNA testing.
Thank you so much.
DNA Purchases and Free Uploads
- FamilyTreeDNA – Y, mitochondrial and autosomal DNA testing
- MyHeritage DNA – Autosomal DNA test
- MyHeritage FREE DNA file upload – Upload your DNA file from other vendors free
- AncestryDNA – Autosomal DNA test
- AncestryDNA Plus Traits
- 23andMe Ancestry – Autosomal DNA only, no Health
- 23andMe Ancestry Plus Health
Genealogy Products and Services
- MyHeritage Subscription with Free Trial
- Legacy Family Tree Webinars – Genealogy and DNA classes, subscription-based, some free
- Legacy Family Tree Software – Genealogy software for your computer
- OldNews – Old Newspapers with links to save to MyHeritage trees
- MyHeritage Omni comprehensive “everything included” subscription plan
- Newspapers.com – Search newspapers for your ancestors
- NewspaperArchive – Search different newspapers for your ancestors
My Books
- DNA for Native American Genealogy – by Roberta Estes, for those ordering the e-book from anyplace, or paperback within the United States
- DNA for Native American Genealogy – for those ordering the paperback outside the US
- The Complete Guide to FamilyTreeDNA – Y-DNA, Mitochondrial, Autosomal and X-DNA
Genealogy Books
- Genealogical.com – Lots of wonderful genealogy research books
- American Ancestors – Wonderful selection of genealogy books
Genealogy Research
- Legacy Tree Genealogists – Professional genealogy research



































































































































































































































