My mom and dad's house (now my son's) is the 'H' house. The house was built in about 1925 and we were just the second family of owners - and both families had very simliar last names.

Me and my partner live in my "gramma's home" and that's the way my family refers to it - and I am fine with it. In fact it's an honor for us to live in her home!

The previous owners of our house lived there for 50 years, so when we meet neighbors for the first time, we refer to the house by their name. Everyone, especially the old-timers, knows which house right away.

The house is over 80 years old, yet I'm reasonably certain we're only the third owners. The elderly owners' son handled the sale. They clearly were good people, so it's nice to think about them as we do our daily activities in the house.

We live in the Beebe (pronounced Bee Bee) house. They were they original owners of our 1920s cottage. Mr. Beebe grew corn on the front lawn. We even tell newcomers that we live in the Beebe house...so I guess we are perpetuating it!

Our home will forever be know as "Annie's". She was a dear friend of the family and her house was know in the neighbourhood for the beautiful garden and ever flowing supply of baked goods out the back door. I sometimes feel like we are just taking care of it for her now that she has passed on.

My friends bought my childhood home, and it took over a decade for the locals, like election judges, to stop calling it the "H's" house (as in us). It was cute for my friends for about two years, then it really got wearing because even their kids had to learn it was the "H's" house.

We move into our home about thirteen years ago and bought it from the same family, whose Grandfather built it. In fact he built many of the homes on our block in the twenties.

My husband and I live in the "Stevenson" house which was built by Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson in 1960. We bought it from them.
It was definitely part of the charm that we could buy an older home from the original owners who took very good care of it. Most of the older homes we looked at were a mess of things added over the years by different families.

This place was nice and simple, a much cleaner start for us but still had the charm and good solid feel of an older home. Sure the bathroom is pink and blue, but I won't hold it against them.

My house is known by various previous owners names if you've lived in town a long time.

If you haven't, it's known as the house with the "I'm soylent green" painting (it has the phrase and a girl on it) that is in one of the windows. It cracks me up.

My parents neighbours are after 10 years getting used to the fact that they live in the 'Bijls' house. Even the police know it as the 'Bijls' house!

I actually Googled my house to see who lived here after the original historical commission-listed family. When renovating, I found a bracelet with the name "Barbara" engraved. A scan of a 1957 yearbook led me to know that there was a family there with a son and a daughter Barbara. Hope to find them to return the bracelet! (But, to the original point, to neighbors I live in "Julie's" house. I am not Julie.)

I refer to houses in my parents' neighborhood by the families who lived there while we were growing up. I wonder if they did the same to our house, since my parents have been there for over 30 years.

My family goes back four generations in a town that's known as the birthplace of the state, although I didn't grow up there. It's not uncommon there for a home, or at least the land, to have been in a family for generations. When I met a friend in college from that town, my grandma exclaimed, "oh, the old Schubert place!", knew exactly where he lived and said she'd gone to high school with his great aunt. In towns where the land was part of your identity as a family, names are sure to stick, and it feels like honoring the heritage of the town to abide by them.

We used to live in Dr. Morris' house. Never mind that the doctor had moved out 20 years before.

I live in the "fire chief's house." He built the house in 1951. My front doorbell looks like a small firebox and has the word "chief" on it. I would never change it.

I live across the street from the "city manager's house." It was built in 1954.

I love these little bits of history. One of my next-door neighbors lives in the house he grew up in. He moved back after his parents died. His was the first house in the neighborhood, and he is a trove of information. I'm even thinking of writing a small book about the neighborhood before all the memories are lost.

We live in the Crazy Guggenheim house. I think Sinatra stayed in my bedroom.

My brother & sister share the apt. we all grew up in now that our mother is gone. We still call it "mom's house".