Manna House as "Home"

Manna House as “Home”

“I’ve come by here many times, and wondered what this place was.” A man was leaning out of his truck window. He had started talking to me as soon as I got out of my car in front of Manna House. We are closed on Saturday. I was there to take the garbage cans to the back yard after they had been emptied yesterday. When I drove up there was a white truck parked directly in front of Manna House in the center turn lane. I had wondered what was up.

“Do you work here? Are you going in?” he asked.

“We’re a place of hospitality for people on the streets and people in this neighborhood. We’re closed today. Can I help you?”

“I’d really like to have a look inside. My grandparents lived here. My parents lived here for thirty years. I grew up here. This is home.”

The man was about my age. He was almost a shorter version of myself. A little more than a month ago I was in Rochester, Minnesota, where I joined with other family members to help my Mom move from her home of 62 years. It was the home in which I had grown up and had always returned to whenever I “went home.”

“Come on,” I said, “I’d be honored to show you around.”

His name was Philip Humphrey. They had moved out in 1995 and he had not been back inside since. He walked through the house with me. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’m actually back inside here. I like what you’ve done with the place.”

We walked into the clothing room. “This was my sister’s room. I slept in the back, for a while in the pantry, then in the back bedroom.”

He wanted to know how long Manna House had been open. Ten years, I told him. We loved this place from the start. It had such a family spirit even when we walked in the first time and it was in such disrepair.

“Our family loved living here. We had our ups and downs. But this was always a solid house, a good home.”

As we walked around he also talked about the area around the house. “The neighborhood really changed. Bellevue Baptist bought up and tore down so many houses for their parking lots. That building across the street used to be a Bausch and Lomb eyewear place. That corner store was a florist. There was a little store across the street. It’s gone. The house next to it was a very fine house.”

I showed him all the rooms in Manna House. He marveled at the bathroom and wondered if the old claw-footed tub had been there when we moved in. Nope.

Then I showed him the backyard.

“My Mom and Dad would love how it’s being used for good. My grandparents would love it too.”

He stood in the backyard and pointed up to the roof, “I put that antennae up there. You see that black wire, that was for my shortwave radio.”

His memories were pouring out of him.

“Parked my first car out front. Another car hit it. Some church-goer forgot to set his brake and his car rolled down the hill and smashed into mine. I brought my first date here.”

He took some pictures. He told me how hot it was in the summer with no air conditioning and how cold it was in the winter with just a few small gas heaters. As he got ready to go he said, “This was home. This is what I think of when I think of home. It will always be home for me. Would you mind if my sister came by some time and had a look?”

“Not at all. She’s welcome anytime, and so are you.”