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Warning: Long post ahead. Will put highlights at bottom. Scroll down for pictures.
Lyn's thread (here: http://dfwmustangs.net/forums/showthread.php?t=56162) reminded me of how sad it was to look at places that hold great memories and see them in various states of disrepair. The pictures below are really bittersweet for me because they bring back awesome memories from a few years of my life, but to see the house in such a shitty state leaves me with a pit in my stomach.
The place is in northwest New Jersey in a town called Vernon Township, and I lived there from 1993 to 1996 (age 9 to 12). Despite what anyone tells you about New Jersey, there are nice places and bad places, just like everywhere else, and this one is a good place (or was when we left, anyway). This house sits on about 70 acres of land on a foot hill of the Appalachian mountains. It's where I got my first BB gun, where I learned to shoot a bow, and where I shot my first real guns. My little brother and I spent countless hours outside on the land roaming the woods and creeks on the property. We had a bad-ass outdoor giant orange tabby cat named (appropriately) Vernon who would hunt and kill and leave us gifts. He would attack anything on our property regardless of its size compared to his. It's where I learned to ride a dirt bike and discovered how much fun a mountain bike could really be.
The house was built in 1922, out of stone, piled and mortared by hand. At one point there were 4 or 5 guest houses on the property - little white cottages that were already boarded up and trashed by the time we moved in that my brother and I camped out in in the summer.
The main house was once the home of a steel tycoon, then later it was the boarding house for the playboy bunnies from what used to be the playboy club across the street. The playboy club turned into Seasons Resort and Spa and along with it came the house and land it sat on. We moved in when my dad took a job as the assistant GM of Seasons Resort and they offered us the place for free as long as my dad was employed with them. My mom spent months renovating it to make it a nice place for us to live, and a really nice house in general. Now, careless teenagers have trashed the place. I would like to find out who owns it so that I can try to buy it and make it nice again, but that's a pipe dream as I don't really have the funds.
Anyway, enough of the weepy story. Here are the pictures of it in its current state. Unfortunately I don't have any pictures of it from when we lived in it.
If you want to see the area from above, google search these coordinates:
41° 11' 10.19" N 74° 32' 20.73" W
Cliff's Notes: Nice old house I used to live in on a lot of land has been abandoned and vandalized, bringing back good memories and inducing nausea and depression from its state of disrepair.
Lyn's thread (here: http://dfwmustangs.net/forums/showthread.php?t=56162) reminded me of how sad it was to look at places that hold great memories and see them in various states of disrepair. The pictures below are really bittersweet for me because they bring back awesome memories from a few years of my life, but to see the house in such a shitty state leaves me with a pit in my stomach.
The place is in northwest New Jersey in a town called Vernon Township, and I lived there from 1993 to 1996 (age 9 to 12). Despite what anyone tells you about New Jersey, there are nice places and bad places, just like everywhere else, and this one is a good place (or was when we left, anyway). This house sits on about 70 acres of land on a foot hill of the Appalachian mountains. It's where I got my first BB gun, where I learned to shoot a bow, and where I shot my first real guns. My little brother and I spent countless hours outside on the land roaming the woods and creeks on the property. We had a bad-ass outdoor giant orange tabby cat named (appropriately) Vernon who would hunt and kill and leave us gifts. He would attack anything on our property regardless of its size compared to his. It's where I learned to ride a dirt bike and discovered how much fun a mountain bike could really be.
The house was built in 1922, out of stone, piled and mortared by hand. At one point there were 4 or 5 guest houses on the property - little white cottages that were already boarded up and trashed by the time we moved in that my brother and I camped out in in the summer.
The main house was once the home of a steel tycoon, then later it was the boarding house for the playboy bunnies from what used to be the playboy club across the street. The playboy club turned into Seasons Resort and Spa and along with it came the house and land it sat on. We moved in when my dad took a job as the assistant GM of Seasons Resort and they offered us the place for free as long as my dad was employed with them. My mom spent months renovating it to make it a nice place for us to live, and a really nice house in general. Now, careless teenagers have trashed the place. I would like to find out who owns it so that I can try to buy it and make it nice again, but that's a pipe dream as I don't really have the funds.
Anyway, enough of the weepy story. Here are the pictures of it in its current state. Unfortunately I don't have any pictures of it from when we lived in it.
If you want to see the area from above, google search these coordinates:
41° 11' 10.19" N 74° 32' 20.73" W
Cliff's Notes: Nice old house I used to live in on a lot of land has been abandoned and vandalized, bringing back good memories and inducing nausea and depression from its state of disrepair.
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