Googling the Past: A Stroll Down Memory Lane (with Wi-Fi)

Lately, a few friends and I have been walking down memory lane: swapping “remember when” stories. One of them sighed and said, “Have you ever gone back to your old hometown? The one where you were a kid? It’s just not the same.”

Of course it’s not. Time marches on, neighborhoods change, trees grow, and sidewalks crack. But guess what? You can go back—digitally. Just fire up Google and type in an old address. Voilà! Instant time travel without leaving your recliner.

That’s exactly what I did one rainy afternoon when nostalgia came knocking. I typed in the address where I lived at age ten. To my surprise, the house was still standing—and looking better than ever. What used to be dull white wood had been replaced with cheery yellow siding. A tall pine and a charming round flowerbed now graced the once-bare yard. According to Trulia, the house is 101 years old. Sadly, no recent sale meant I couldn’t peek inside. (I’m not nosy, just...thorough.)

That harmless little search turned into a full-on mission. Soon, I was Googling every house and haunt I could remember.

The '50s

That rabbit hole led me to my childhood home in Chicago, built around 1950. Turns out, it was brand-new when we moved in. It looks nearly unchanged, like time took a nap. The sidewalks are still neat, the lawns trim. Back then, the neighborhood was Italian and Polish, filled with the smells of homemade pasta and pierogi. These days, there’s a giant shopping center two blocks away and—get this—a marijuana dispensary popped up briefly before going belly-up. So much for progress.

House in Chicago

We also stayed with my grandma for a stretch when we moved to Evansville, Indiana. Her house, just a few years older than the Chicago one, is a mixed bag now. The front steps crumble, and the sidewalk looks like nature’s trying to reclaim it. But there’s hope—new windows, fresh siding, and a porch mid-repair suggest someone’s breathing life back into it.

Oh, how I loved hiding beneath the weeping willow in the backyard. A mimosa tree lured hummingbirds in spring, and Grandma’s garden overflowed with purple irises and fragrant roses. Google’s aerial view now shows a barren backyard. Sigh. Some magic just doesn’t translate online.

The neighborhood’s clearly in transition. One house is getting a facelift, another looks like it lost a brawl with a tornado. It’s a mixed bag of pride and decay.

Grandma's old house - being worked on, but look at the roof next door

Old Schools, New Tricks

Curious, I looked up the schools I attended. All but one are still standing tall. (RIP to my 3rd–7th grade school—demolished in 1972.) The survivors now have sleek websites and apps. Can you imagine? An app for an elementary school? What’s next—recess via Zoom?

The ‘60s

When I hit eighth grade, we moved again, this time to North Evansville. The neighborhood’s showing its age—like the rest of us—but it’s hanging in there. The house looks better than I remembered: new beige siding, updated shutters, and an air of dignity despite its years.

One treasured memory from that era was the Community Center, where we danced every weekend. The DJ spun records while we twisted, cha-cha’d, and “Chalyipso’d” (that’s a cha-cha to Calypso music, for the uninitiated). Sadly, it was bulldozed in 1965. But the internet let me revisit it—if only in photos and articles.

Old train station became a community center in the early 60s, with dances on weekends

The ‘70s

Fast forward to our early marriage when we lived in Oak Park, Illinois. We rented an apartment built in the early 1920s that hadn’t been updated since, well... ever. The previous tenant lived there for decades and hadn’t changed a thing. In exchange for lower rent, we rehabbed it (for a brief look at the rehab, see DIY Disasters).

And oh, how we loved that place. The rooms were huge. The entry was the size of a bedroom. The living room could’ve hosted a ballroom dance. Brass fixtures, crystal lights—pure charm. Sure, the windows leaked and the kitchen counters were scarce, but we didn’t care. We were young, in love.

Later Years and Real Estate Snooping

Here’s the fun part: when homes you’ve lived in have sold within the past few years, on Zillow or Realtor.com, you can peek inside—legally! I took a tour through the first house we bought in 1975. The exterior looked familiar, minus the ash tree and those loyal old yews. Inside? A new bedroom, kitchen, and bath—but the mirrored closet doors we installed over 40 years ago were still there. A little piece of our past, still intact.

Our mirrored folding doors on the left

During a college homecoming, my husband decided to cruise by his old fraternity house. Big mistake. It looked like it had given up years ago—sagging roof, peeling paint, sad aura. Some memories are best left unvisited.

So next time you’re feeling wistful—or just plain curious—type an old address into Google. Try a school name, a favorite store. If you don’t remember the address, describe it: “Community Center 1960s railroad station Evansville, Indiana.” You never know what you’ll find. Then, for real fun, head to Zillow or Redfin to see if you can view inside. But brace yourself: some old favorites have disappeared, while others are clinging to life—or blossoming again.

Either way, it’s a journey worth taking. No suitcase required.