This Old House

 

It was a warm and cozy little home, designed on the fly and built as money allowed. The heating system was a Blaze Princess wood-burning stove that would hold a noble fire for almost twelve hours. Later, when natural gas came to the neighborhood, a forced air gas furnace was installed. A few years later a second furnace was installed to heat the addition on the south side. But the wood stove remained in use until the end. It was the heart of the place.

 

The “dream house” was originally supposed to be constructed of native spruce logs but I wasn’t as frugal as I should have been during the year I worked in Valdez on the construction of the Trans-Alaskan pipeline terminal. When it came time to move to the Kenai Peninsula and build in the summer of 1977 my nest egg was rather modest. I had only saved enough to pay for the excavation for the foundation, install the septic system, and drill the well. I had no idea that water would be 152 feet deep. Drillers charge by the foot it turned out.

 

That first Autumn I parked the travel trailer that had become my temporary home on the edge of the excavation. I hooked up the utilties, insulated the underpinnings, and battened down for a Norman Rockwell Alaskan winter. Little did I know that the winter of ‘77-‘78 was to be one of the most brutal in modern history. To make things worse, there was no work to be had in that part of the State in my trade. For the first and only time in my life I applied for food stamps and welfare in order to eat and pay the bills. I learned humility that winter.

 

I also learned to pray. I mean truly pray. And God really did take care of us. We didn’t have a lot of extras, but we did alright. The trailer had an oil-fired furnace and when it reached the point that I couldn’t afford to refill the 300 gallon heating oil tank I would go to the local service station and buy five gallons of diesel fuel. The diesel burned like heating oil so it worked fine. On average the furnace would burn one-and-a-third gallons of oil per day so five gallons would last about four days if we kept the thermostat set at or below sixty degrees. Every third or fourth day I would go get another five gallons. I usually made my trips to search for work on those days so I could combine the two missions and save gas.

 

At long last Spring came. I had the huge foundation hole for the intended “dream house” back-filled and I built a traditional 12’ x 36’ frame structure (known locally as a “lean-to”) right alongside the trailer. I cleverly built the roof completely over the trailer using posts on the far side of the trailer to support that end of the roof trusses. This lean-to was the first half of the house. The following summer (1979) I pulled the trailer out from under the roof and built the other half of the house.

Again, this was a “pay as you go” project. Work was still slow in my trade so it took a long time. But time was one commodity I had.

I hand dug every post hole and installed every piling for the foundation. I cut every board, drove every nail, built every truss. Installed all the electrical wiring and plumbing. As well as all the windows. I even built and installed the front door. I learned quite a bit about carpentry that summer.

I intended the house to last a maximum of ten years but when it was finished I thought it was beautiful, albeit a bit rustic.

I remember installing the counter tops in the kitchen on Thanksgiving morning of 1979. We had guests coming for dinner. In 1982 I added a large addition on the south side with a beautiful all-glass sunroom (including four huge skylights in the roof) and a large guest room.

 

In 1986 my life changed dramatically and I moved out of my little house. Actually I ended up moving just two doors down the street. I still live there today.

 

For thirty years my house (built to last ten years) provided warm and cozy shelter for a succession of families who lived there. But time and wear-n-tear took its toll. This Spring it became evident that the house had finished its work and it was time for it to retire.

A work party was scheduled for the first weekend in May. That just happened to coincide with a trip we had planned to New York City. I was not disappointed that I wouldn’t be there to watch my house come down. I stood during the testimony portion of our church service on the Sunday before we left… I wanted to thank God one more time for my house. As I began to speak all of the memories flooded over me and I couldn't finish my thought, I could only offer Him tears of thanks. 

At last I was able to talk again and I simply asked the men who would raze the house to be gentle with it.

Before we left on our trip I walked through the house one more time and said my goodbyes. I saved the hand-made key rack I had put up on the kitchen wall so many years ago.

 

Over the summer much of the useful materials have been salvaged for reuse. Just a few weeks ago a retired couple drove by on their way to a garage sale and spotted that old Blaze Princess wood-burning stove. They insisted that they be allowed to buy it for their home. They made a small donation to the church I attend and I helped them load the stove up in their truck.

I later learned that the husband has a terminal illness and they have been spending the summer getting their house set up to make it easier for her to manage after he’s gone. I hope my wood stove provides her some comfort during the long and lonely winter nights ahead.

 

Reviews

[J]

Only you could write a story so moving, so special that I had to put my head down on my desk [at work] and weep. I knew bits and pieces of this part of your life, but not the entire story. From its very conception, this old house [indeed] seems to have been blessed with a purpose beyond even your own imaginings. I can't believe you built the entire house by yourself. I am in awe, D.

I must concur with Em, you are a good man. Truly. When you write like this, I wish you would consider writing a book. Your saying "goodbye" broke my heart.

This is beautiful. Thank you for sharing.

j

[BrightEyes]

I also am in awe that you built your house yourself. I imagine that moving out of that home must have been hard enough. I cannot even begin to know how you felt with that last good-bye. This is an amazing story - in that it captures so precisely how a house becomes a home - how wood, plaster, glass and the like become so much more than just the things that they are. There is a sadness to this tale - but there is so much more than that. I , as you, like to think that your old stove burns still - bringing warmth and comfort to every life it touches.

[Sel Whiteley]

What a fascinating story about human resilience in the worst of natural conditions. "I learned humility that winter". That line in itself is so suggestive and powerful, I cannot imagine the Alaskan winter but I have been on the dole before and I know what a desperate situation that can be. You should such a love for the home that literally grew up organically that the reader is forced to love it too. I've also, like all people, been dependent on and depressed by the elements. The end, as so often with your ends, really makes me consider what I have. This was stunning writing.

[just is]

Wow! This is very moving, I really liked this it touched me.

[Rain]

God, I love reading this style of writing. It reveals you, your philosophies, your character. Being an absolute slug when it comes to fixing anything, I can truely admire your efforts. I've always thought that people who tackle such massive undertakings, were artists. I still feel that way. I can't imagine the flow of emotions as your beloved creation reached it's final days. This was an excellent piece of writing. Take care, Rain..

[Emily B]

Oh, what a testament to the character of a man! My first home was a 10 x 40 ft trailer that was a good twenty years old. It was small and mostly warm and all ours. I love this story.