A Place That Will Always Feel Like Home

Brent Geertsema lived and worked in the Act Five house for several years. As he looks back at his time in the house, he explains why it has been such a meaningful experience.

“What are you doing here?” 

It’s a weird question to hear now when I walk into 75 Blake St.. After all, in many ways it still feels like home. 

Over the last 3 years, I’ve spent 3 summers living in the house and 8 months working with students as a media manager. On top of that, I’ve probably eaten more spaghetti on Wednesdays than anyone in Hamilton. This place holds a lot of memories for me.

Memories of a Home

Much to the chagrin of my mom and grandmother and their 20 years of trying, 75 Blake St. is where I learned to finally appreciate gardening. It gave me a place to pay attention to what would grow as I waited patiently for the white strawberries (or “pineberries” as they are apparently called) to ripen. I learned the joy of picking a cucumber and pepper off the plant to add to that dinner’s salad. And I grew to appreciate the sweaty struggle of removing goutweed. 

“75 Blake St. will always feel like home.

Blake St. seems to be a place where time slows down and speeds up at the same time. Long talks around the dinner table or on the kitchen floor seem to last forever and be over too soon. Quiet moments would be interrupted by the soft strings of a guitar or violin being practiced in another room. And there is always the consistent, startling loudness of that one note on the old piano.  

I like to think Blake St. is where I became a man, (in one sense at least). This happened as I pretended that I knew what I was doing at three in the morning when a bat was discovered in the basement and no one else would dare try to get it out of the house. (Don’t worry, the bat only came back once as far as I know.) 

Mourning and Celebrating Together

The word ‘stranger’ seems to lose all meaning in this place. Even spending just one summer really digging into intentional community is enough to create bonds that last for years. My strongest memory of this short, intense, tremendously caring community came after the worst day of my life. After driving seven hours back to Hamilton, alone and holding back tears, I came into the house right as our evening prayer was about to start. Someone I had just started living with a few weeks before immediately saw me and hugged me. They lived Jesus’ words to “mourn with those who mourn”.

So yeah, 75 Blake St. will always feel like home, with all the joys and sorrows and celebrations and disappointments that go along with that title. I’m so grateful to have been and continue to be part of the community there. And I hope everyone can find a place like it.