Robin Hood Road - Gone But Not Forgotten

In the middle of Atlanta’s far-reaching sprawl off of one of her most popular and most traveled roads sits quiet old neighborhood called Sherwood Forest. As the name suggests, the street names are Friar Tuck and Little John and Lady Marion and of course Robin Hood to name just a few. This is where my grandparents, Mama and Daddy as I called them, built one of the first houses in the subdivision.

Daddy and I used to walk around the block after dinner when the weather was nice. When I was little, he’d pull me in the wagon. I eventually graduated up to a bike. We liked to visit. Sometimes we’d stop and see Mr. Rudd. If it were dark, he would put ice and water just outside his back door and we’d watch the raccoons come and wash their little black hands. Sometimes we’d have ice cream and just talk. We might have stopped to talk to Mrs. Tally or Toinette Brown or if Bobby Dodd’s granddaughters were visiting, we’d go see them. Mama never knew who we’d see or how long we’d be.

From the street, the house looked to be one level. When you first pull into the drive you saw 3 trees – a magnolia, a dogwood and Terrance the Tree. I climbed all three. Terrance was my buddy. I loved to take a book and read up there. As you follow the driveway around back, you found steps going up to the little porch off the kitchen, a door tucked under the stairs leading into the basement and two garage doors. A stair stepped brick wall bordered the driveway along the right side until it stopped at the small garden lined with more monkey grass where my grandfather grew tomatoes and marigolds. The pungent fragrance of my Augusts I still smell. The BLTs and the open-faced tomato sandwiches the fruits of Daddy’s labor. A flat area with lights allowed us to play badminton into the wee hours of the night if the mosquitos didn’t get us first. Opposite the garage was a steep hill covered with monkey grass.

The driveway and I have our own history. My grandmother once had an upright vacuum. When it died, somehow the base was salvaged. The “pink thing” was so much fun to ride down the driveway. Sometimes you’d go straight. Sometimes you’d end up backwards. But whatever you did you had to watch out for the raised seam about half way down. I remember playing in a huge galvanized tub filled with water. Daddy used to “water the driveway” as Mama called it when he’d spray off the dirt and mud and leaves.

Once in the front door you saw half around cabinet where bridge cards & tally sheets were hidden in the drawer. A coat closet Mama’s fur coat, her “wax” coat and plastic rain bonnets. The shelf above with her evening purses and a umbrellas stood in the corner. Here in the foyer you paused to take in whatever the atmosphere.

To the right of the foyer was a large formal living room full of light from wide windows. The furniture seemed sparse but adequate and appropriate. A long and low sofa flanked by two taller side tables with red lamps. The drawers in the tables held a few but little treasures. Across the room were two swivel chairs that wrapped around you when you sat in them. A small elegant TV cabinet stood between them. Tucked in the corner was a small writing desk with the birdcage music box with a tiny yellow and black bird inside. I was the only one who wrote there. My grandmother always put her Christmas tree opposite the little desk. The fireplace surrounded by marble and graced by a brass cricket. A painted photograph of my smiling mother in her green strapless dress with a yellow sash hung above. She was 18. On either side of the fireplace lamps sat on half tables and were polished and clean twice a year. A gold striped Queen Anne chair with a small table stayed near the fireplace and faced into the room. It was a formal and very prim and proper space. The room was used only for visitors and family gatherings.

Straight ahead from the front door was a narthex of sorts where a tiny Chinese figurine stood on a tiny ledge. The door to the basement was here. Mama always fussed not to let the door slam. And it would! When I wanted to be alone, I’d sit on the steps and hide for a bit. The narthex was a crowded space but you were just passing through.

The kitchen was practical with a long cabinet with sliding wood doors that housed things that were not used much. Above a hanging cabinet with frosted glass doors kept the everyday plates and bowls. A bank of drawers held silverware and other miscellaneous kitchenware. By the cast-iron self draining sink was a tiny drawer that held Mama’s marking pens and masking tape for labeling packages of food she was freezing. The everyday glasses lived above the dishwasher. Next to the range was a built in butcher block cutting board and over that a cabinet with the salt-and-pepper shakers, spices, instant tea mix and measuring spoons hung on the door. Above the double oven range was a cutting board that read “This is Grace’s kitchen if you doubt it just start something”. A TV cart was a catchall for miscellaneous foodstuffs such as raisins or sugar or butter. This is where I bonded with my grandmother while we baked fruitcake bonbons or seven layer cookies or coconut slivers. I loved to imitate my grandfather as he ate his cereal and slurped down the milk left in the bowl. Ellen fried her famous chicken and baked her biscuits and boiled rice and made gravy in that kitchen every Friday. Yum.

Daddy had a home office where the floors and shutters were all wood. On the table he had his adding machine and pencils and ledger books. On the desk was my grandmother’s calendar with a window overlooking the backyard. It was official-all work and no play in this room. The marble top dresser kept Mama’s Christmas linens protected and waiting.

In the hall was small roll top desk that was rarely used. Over it hung pictures of three generations of our family. If it were closed, you weren’t allowed to open it – it was hiding a surprise!

Mama’s bathroom was all pink and across the hall from the master bedroom. It had a linen closet with the laundry chute going straight to the waiting hamper below in the basement. Daddy’s bathroom was all blue but smaller than Mama’s and led to his office. Even the sinks and toilets were pink or blue (respectively).

The guestroom or what was my mom’s room had a dresser and twin beds and at one point a crib I slept in. The long closet had shelves on either end. My mom’s dolls I was occasionally allowed to play with stayed on the shelves above. The twin bed is where my grandfather would scratch my back or read to me or tell me stories until I fell asleep. Sometimes I’d wake and ask for more just to keep him there a little longer.

In the TV room were two more swivel chairs like in the living room. There was a large square bi-level table between Mama & Daddy’s chairs. There was a phone and magazines and a note paper holder and the address book on top. All kinds of reading materials underneath. A low table kept the atlas at the ready while it sat under pictures of their grandchildren. One of my favorites being of my two brothers with a beagle puppy. There is a small footstool with a needlepoint cover my grandmother made. It was often used as a pillow when we watched TV and there were no more seats. I remember lying on my brother David and watching together. And then there was the square table where Mama would play cards with whoever was up for the challenge or I would eat chocolate ice cream “soup”. Mama made me a cover that turned the table into a playhouse for me. It had windows and a door and everything!

The master bedroom had two closets – his and hers. Mama and Daddy both had bedside tables. Hers held her book. His held his Campho-Phenique. His high dresser always had a sandwich bag of just a little candy stashed away where little people couldn’t get to it. Or so he thought. Somehow I understood this was their private space and always felt it to be a privilege to be there. It was a reverent space.

The dining room where we gathered for formal family meals had a sideboard with a large mirror above it. The chandelier saw its own sparkle. The china cabinet held delicate figurines and other precious pieces that were only to be admired, not touched. Mama & Daddy always sat where they belonged – each at the head of the table. It was elegant and classy and sometimes cramped when we all gathered around the table. I might as well been at the Queen’s table.

The door from the dining room led to the screened in porch. Here sat chairs with white vinyl cushions that sighed heavily when you sat on them. We lovingly washed them and scrubbed the floor every spring so we can enjoy the porch in the summer. Countless hours I snapped and shelled beans hauled back from the farmers market with Mama.

The basement was a whole other world. A maze in and of itself. Down the steps and through the door at the bottom was where the cars were parked. There was a workbench in front of them. We parked our bikes there too but more in the washer and dryer area where the ironing board permanently stood. The seemingly huge chest freezer was down there too. Next to that was a closet that housed all kinds of ancient things – a picnic basket that never saw the light of day, empty flowerpots, a cooler that went to St. Simons Island when we did, badminton rackets and shuttlecocks. Probably a cricket carcass or two too. Some long shelves had miscellaneous basement stuff, but most importantly it’s where Daddy’s Styrofoam postal / safari hat stayed until called upon. He finally retired the one I took a bite out of when he gave me a piggyback ride. I was about five I think. From there you could go through another door that led into what could be a studio apartment. For a few years, my brother David lived here while going to Georgia State University. It had a fireplace and sofa. There were 3 or 4 twin beds with a bookcase separating them from Mama’s sewing area. On the far wall under the fireplace upstairs, was the coolest thing – a door with a geometrical orange and white pattern. What’s neat is it had signatures from the house warming party my grandparents had shortly after the house was built and ready to be shown off. On the other side of this door were all the ashes from the fireplace. I mentioned Mama’s sewing area. She had a huge dresser with a huge piece of wood on it where she pinned and cut fabric from patterns for her clothes, my clothes and my doll’s clothes. My grandparents had a Ping-Pong table down there too. You could compete against yourself if you folded one side up if you had no takers for an actual game.

Mama and Daddy’s home was razed in 2003 or so and rebuilt, as are many other homes in the area. My now ex husband drove by to see if the house was still standing. They had just about finished clearing the debris. He walked around the lot and found 5 bricks still intact – mortar and all – and brought them home to me. He found them where the screened in porch was. They sit less than 3 feet from me as I write this.