Ramblings
Don't Ask!
A birthday tribute to my father and the little house where I first learned that a home is something you build, not just buy.Confession: I am terrible about knowing how old someone is. I always have to do the math. But for some reason, I can never remember the years my parents were born, so i never know old they are. Sometimes, people at work will ask me how old they are and they're always incredulous when I say "I think somewhere around...".
The House Where It All Began
This is house where everything started for me.
Kinda your classic, All-American house isn't it? This is the house of my childhood! Kinda. You see, we moved into 812 in 1971, and in 1971 the house looked NOTHING like that! I don't have many pictures, but let's see what I can put in here to give you an idea...
I know it's a bit faded and fuzzy, but you get the idea. A few things to note - first, I believe that gentleman is my grandfather, dad's dad! I haven't seen many pictures of him, and it's great to see him in this one! The next thing to note, that window on the second floor. That was my room (shared with my brother later, but still - my room!). Just to the left of that window was my bed. You can probably tell that the window reached almost to the floor, so from my bed I could watch the street outside, which came in handy when I was grounded, which was more often than I'd care to admit! I could also lay on the floor and watch the weather come in from the west, fretting if those clouds meant the baseball game might be cancelled, or watching my friends playing in the street when - you guessed it, I was grounded.
And that brings me to the other point of interest...the porch. Mind you, I was a kid, but the porch was so narrow, that even then I couldn't sit with my back against the wall and put my legs out straight (at least that's how I remember it). Remember I said my window faced west?
Building a New Front Entrance
Well, in the winter whenever someone opened the front door, those winter winds would whip through the house. So, about 1978 dad decided to do something about it. Dad tore the porch off and built a little foyer on the front! Check this out:
Looking in the window on the left, it's clear dad got a permit for this project! As a matter-of-fact, I remember dad waiting for the inspector to come to check the footer depths or something.
Looking in the window on the left, it's clear dad got a permit for this project! As a matter-of-fact, I remember dad waiting for the inspector to come to check the footer depths or something.
Dad saved enough shingles to put them on the outside so it looked as if the house was built that way! I don't remember ever seeing written plans for this project, but I do remember dad getting that window from the local hardware store, and it pretty much snapping into place, with barely a shim!
The Greatest Lesson Dad Ever Taught Me
That's how it has always been with dad, he wanted the house to look good, he wanted it to fit his growing family, and he wanted to do it himself. And that was what inspired me here at 173.
Looking back now, I realize House 173 didn't really begin the day we bought this old place in 1997. It began years earlier, standing beside Dad with a hammer in one hand or a board in the other, watching an ordinary house slowly become our home. Every time I tackle another project here, there's still a little bit of 812 in it.
I helped dad quite a bit when I was a kid, and learned things that I remember to this day. Of course, I was a stupid kid, and didn't know then how much I would come to treasure those days.
I usually grumbled, wishing to go play army or baseball with my friends. Pouting when I had to hold things for him because he only had two hands. But that's okay, it's all part of the lore, part of the memories I think about when I'm doing things at 173 that just aren't that much fun. I think about dad working at the factory all day, coaching my ball teams (to multiple championships by the way), and still finding time to do all these projects!
Special Edition: Happy Birthday Dad!
Thanks for stopping by and - see ya' next time!
This isn't really a birthday post.
It's a thank-you letter disguised as one.
I smiled at the stories about being grounded, watching the weather from your bedroom window, and grumbling when your dad asked for help. I suspect every parent reading this is thinking, "Mine did that too." Every grown child is thinking, "I wish I'd complained a little less."
What moved me most wasn't the remodeling itself. It was your realization that your father wasn't just building a foyer. He was quietly building the man who would someday buy another old house and spend years caring for it.
The best birthday gifts are rarely wrapped.
Sometimes they're lived. Sometimes they take fifty years to recognize. - The Nostalgic Reader
Frequently Asked Questions
Why is your childhood home sound important to House 173?Although House 173 documents projects on my current home, many of the values behind those projects were learned decades earlier at 812. Watching my father improve our family home taught me that houses evolve over time, that ordinary people can build remarkable things with patience, and that caring for a home is really another way of caring for the people who live there.
Looking back now, I realize I wasn't simply watching renovations, I was learning a way of thinking that would eventually shape House 173.
What project from your father's remodeling made the biggest impression?
Without question, it was enclosing the tiny front porch to create a proper foyer.
As a child, I mostly noticed that winter drafts disappeared and the house felt warmer. As an adult, I appreciate the planning behind it: obtaining permits, pouring proper footings, choosing a window, and even saving enough original shingles so the addition looked as though it had always belonged there.
That project showed me that good remodeling improves both function and appearance.
Did you enjoy helping your dad with projects when you were young?
Not nearly as much as I wish I had.
Like many kids, I'd rather have been outside playing baseball or pretending to be in the Army than holding a board or handing over tools. Those jobs often felt like interruptions at the time.
Years later, those interruptions became some of my favorite memories. They weren't simply home improvement projects, they were time spent beside my father, learning skills and work habits that stayed with me long after the projects themselves were finished.
How has your father influenced the way you approach projects at House 173?
Probably more than either of us realized.
He believed in doing quality work, making additions look original to the house, working within a budget, and taking pride in building things himself. Those same ideas appear throughout House 173 today.
Whenever I catch myself carefully matching trim, reusing old materials, or trying to make a repair look like it has always belonged, I suspect I'm really borrowing from lessons first learned at 812.