Packed To The Rafters

There’s a great Australian show called Packed To The Rafters that I binged watched back when I lived in New York. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Packed_to_the_Rafters

Funny how I am now living that experience, with a live Aussie soundtrack.

Back in NYC, I lived in what I call the McCaffrey Compound on Mosholu Avenue.

My youngest brother, John (yes, he’s the same one from the books), now owns both the houses. He and his wife Tara (née Sullivan) live in the house on the left, with their daughter Tales, who still hopes we’ll move back east, and who sent me this painting, so I’ll never forget what it looks like. My brother’s son, J-M, wife, Joyce, and grandson, J-P, live in the family house on the right. The garage from FJM – where Spaghetti’s hedge clippers decapitation was almost carried out – is located at the back end of the driveway between the two houses. The Junkie in the books used to ride his mule led, bell clanging wagon up Mosholu passing right to left along the road in front of those two houses.

But before the house on the left was McCaffrey property, many generations of McCaffreys were raised in the house on the right. Since 1960, four floors (including basement and attic) were always filled with humans, animals and ghosts. Packed to the rafters.

So much living, laughing, loving, fighting and dying went on in those houses.

I talk about that house on the right a lot in Finding Jimmy Moran.

If you add the two properties together there may be a half acre of land. In NYC, that’s a lot of land.

But there were always a lot of family on that land, and if you add the adopted extended family who regularly and freely rolled in and out of the property, and the ghosts, there was never a time when anyone ever felt alone.

Indeed, when I went to law school, I use to sit in the back corner of the basement boiler room, under a naked light bulb, to study. Warmest spot in the house most winters. Great place to find some relative peace and quiet.

During the six-plus decades as the family property, most of Riverdale has walked or driven up that driveway at one point or another.

Casa Claire in NoCo offered a whole different sense of space and room and privacy. A lot more land. A bigger single family house.

When Lisa and I first moved out here, Luke and Georgie and tiny Scarlett lived with us for a short period until they bought their own home down the road. There was plenty of space for all of us.

After the younger generations moved out, CC seemed like an empty castle. Since Lisa worked most days I often had it to myself. Blue, Jeter, Phoebe, Lucky, Claire, Mr. Rogers and finally, Honey, were plenty of company if I got lonely. And I could always feel the sprites and spirits of the land all around me as I walked the property day or night. The tommie-knocking sounds of the kitchen ghost were all I needed to remind me I am never alone.

When Luke and Georgie, and now Scarlett, Savanna and Stella, who regularly travelled up the road to visit, upped and moved to Oz, Casa Claire was officially as quiet as a church.

And that was okay. I used my seclusion productively. Wrote The Claire Saga.

Wore very little clothing. Went skyclad in Skyclad.

Never closed a bathroom door. Didn’t even know there were locks on those doors.

But as is the McCaffrey way, for the five generations I have experienced, when family make big decisions like moving back to the states and starting over again, you open your door and make room.

While my son and DIL assess job opportunities and wait for the closing on their Oz house sale (thank God it sold relatively quickly), and look for new digs closer to job opportunities, I get to absorb more moments of watching that next generation of grans do silly, scary and amazing things, and share some of who I am with them in real time, so they don’t just get to read about it in a book someday. And that is a blessing.

I’m hoping that those next generations continue to write about their experiences in the houses they lived in. They all seem very creative. Their Dad and grandfather are writers.

Luke recently turned in the sequel to Lebanon Red to his publisher, so now would be a good time to check out his first novel:

It’s an amazing story. He’s an amazing son.

Maybe the grans will mention a mad grandfather and his mule in one of their stories. And the ghosts, witches, fairies and sprites. And never forget the magic. Turnabout is fair play.

But for as long or as little as they stay here, we want the grans to feel safe and happy, so Lisa allocated them an actual interim bedroom.

Which they can take with them to their new digs, with all the memories they can carry.

But that won’t be today.

Speaking of which, a new day dawns so let’s see what Tuesday brings us.

First some kitty cuddles and my rounds.

You fine, five readers get that last cuppa in you and launch into as light a work week as you can contrive.

But no matter what else we may get up to, let’s make today a great one.