House on the Hill: An Excerpt from Chapter – Nana Dee

When my Nana and Papa moved to Missouri they moved into a cute little house on the corner of Sherman Street in Neosho. The town of Neosho is built on giant waves of hills. The house they bought was built into the side of a large one towards the top.

The house had three stories. It had an underground basement with a ground level and an upstairs. When they first moved in my Dad took my oldest sister Olivia to their house while he helped them recarpet the place. This was the first time they were visited by one of us.

Before I was born my sisters didn’t go to Nana and Papa’s often. It wasn’t until after my sister Rachel was born that we began to frequent their house.

My Mom and Dad divorced shortly after Rachel was born. When they did, Dad moved to Missouri to live with Nana. He had been bad off on drugs for a while, but he was able to pull it together a little while he was there. While he stayed there we would come to Neosho at least twice a year. We visited every summer and certain holidays.

When my Mom and Dad split up my Mom was left with some bad blood towards Nana Dee. She refused to even send her pictures of us kids. The only pictures Nana got of us as kids were ones she had taken.

One of the first times we went to visit them, Nana made sure to get some pictures of us. She loaded us all up and took us to Walmart to get our pictures done with Dad. She wanted us all to match, so she bought a big pack of white t-shirts. She had bought a men’s size so they would “fit” everyone. For most of us they looked like big white dresses. These were the only pictures of us she had, though, and she treasured them.

Not long after that she got some more pictures of us. My Nana was a clown for a long time. I do mean a literal clown, painted face and costumes. She was obsessed with them, and had dolls and costumes all over. She did it professionally, and would even do shows at churches.

On this occasion she dressed all of us kids up as clowns. She did legitimate professional clown face paint on all of us, and even got us into little outfits. Those pictures are still out in the world somewhere.

Dad lived with Nana for a few years. In that time Nana and Dad turned the attic into a whole living space for us kids. We loved the attic, but the floor was splintery and there wasn’t a lot of space for us. They knocked out a wall upstairs to find a whole room to renovate. Nana ran plumbing up there, and built a whole bathroom for us upstairs herself. 

The room they found had a V shaped roof and they took the bottom corners of it and put in cabinets for all of their stuff and ours when we came. They put in a giant bed for all the girls with drawers they built into the frame for our clothes.

They took one corner of the room and turned it into a “Man Cave” for me. The cabinets they built had made a wall a few feet from the top of the v where the roof met the floor of the attic. By leaving out that corner, they made a little cave that went into the very corner of the house. That was the man cave. They tucked me a futon mattress in there and put a curtain up. I had my own “room” for once.

We eventually had our own clubhouse in the yard that we built with Dad. Nana had gotten a bunch of packing crates, and Dad took them apart and turned them into a cute little shack in the yard. It had shingles on the roof and everything. We had a sign over the door that read “Meador Bratz”. After he built it, we all helped him paint it. We ruined everyone’s clothes and covered the yard with white paint.

We loved our little house, but it was infested with wasps. They would get the nests out pretty regularly, but they were relentless. We wanted to be in it so bad we would go in anyways. We were all deathly afraid of wasps, though. We would scatter hysterically from the house everytime they would show up. The house was there for about ten years before it rotted out and was taken down.

Nana and Papa attended church literally every chance they got. When we were with them they would load us all up every Sunday and Wednesday to go with them. Papa was always the early bird and would be in the bathroom whistling his heart out every morning when we got up. He was especially chipper before church.

They would give us each a notebook to draw, take notes, or whatever we wanted as long as we were quiet during the service. Nana is an artist and liked to show us how to draw things when we asked. I drew a lot of roses and pictures of Jesus while I sat in church.

After church we would often go with Papa on his walks. He would take their dog Sugar, a beautiful little collie, on walks out at the fish hatchery and the park. We would run circles around the place while he walked leisurely with Sugar. He never lost sight of us, though. He was a superintendent for crying out loud. He could probably hear us wherever we were anyways.

Papa always kept a level head. I guess he was just used to the challenges of a bunch of kids. Nana could get a little ruffled from time to time. She would almost always stop herself from cussing in front us, but she would slip on occasion. Everytime she slipped, she would say a little chant about being a child of god who doesn’t cuss to calm herself down.

The one time I remember her losing her cool with us I was caught in the sights. We had been giving her hell all day. I think we had been being loud in church that day, maybe. We were on the way to the mechanic to get work done on Papa’s car. Something had cracked up all the kids. I was laughing uncontrollably. Nana was not in the mood to laugh.

By the time we got to the church, she had told us all to keep it down multiple times. I couldn’t do it. Everyone else stopped when she snapped on us one good time. She was fed up with me, so she ordered me inside to ride with Papa when the car was finished.

I finally was able to pull it together, but it was too late. I got out and went inside. I didn’t see papa anywhere. When I was little I was a super shy kid. I was scared to ask anyone where he was, so I just kinda hid in the corner of the waiting room. I was hoping he would come through on the way out, and I would be able to go with him.

I waited there for a good long while. Papa eventually finished his repairs and went home. When he arrived, Nana asked him where I was. Papa went rushing back over to the garage to find me. When he arrived I was in the corner of the room waiting patiently for him behind a door.

The house on the hill was an awesome place. The basement was definitely haunted, but God was in the house. I have some very fond memories from that old house. Between going to the city pool, the huge water gun fights, the giant room where we all slept, to building things with my Dad I feel a lot of love when I think about that place. That was where I saw my dad at a time where he was relatively healthy. It was a home away from home.