This Old House

Our little house is almost always undergoing some type of remodel. One room at a time, the house is evolving into what we want it to be. The utility room is currently being completely gutted and rebuilt, so consequently we have a layer of fine white silt on everything we own.

It was built in 1953. We are the fourth occupants in the house's history. Decades before we bought it, it had several major remodels. A one-car garage became a study at some point, then a two-car garage was added, the kitchen was redesigned, central heat and air was added, a master bathroom was added. The list goes on. Still, the house wasn't even close to what Blythe and I wanted when we bought it in February 2003.  Much of the work done on the house was of very poor quality, probably done by a brother-in-law rather a than a professional. It was just a basic, entry-level starter home – a total fixer-upper.

There are times when I imagine being an old man, maybe in one of those assisted living facilities -- hopefully, a nice one.  I imagine sitting on a veranda, pondering my life's work.  I'll probably smell like Ben-Gay ointment.  Jakob and Elliot may drop by from time to time to visit.  Among other things, I often wonder what my two boys will think of the house where they grew up.  Both boys came home from the hospital to this house.  What will be their overall feeling of the house?  Will they remember the yard always being green and (mostly) weed-free? Will they remember the hard work their mom and I put into it?  Children generally have it better than their parents, so will their own homes be larger and nicer?  There has been an interesting personal shift in the last few years.  I've noticed that, as I grow older, I am increasingly focused on what kind of home I have for my family rather than for me, or to be envied by my friends and neighbors.

While the remodels we have done are important in making the house nicer and more comfortable, I hope what my family remembers is the love that circulates throughout the house. I want my boys to remember doing their homework at the kitchen table and watching movies in the living room sprawled across the sofa. I want them to drive by the house with their families someday and feel the warmth they felt as children when the house was bathed in white lights at Christmas time. Maybe if they're sentimental like me they'll remember their mom and dad standing on a ladder decorating a Christmas tree just inside the large living room window.  Or see me mowing the lawn on a hot summer afternoon.

The opening sequence in the Pixar film UP will always make me cry because it is so similar to the life Blythe and I have with each other.  Everything we have, we've built or earned slowly with a lot of work.  I just hope our boys know that.