Happy 95th Birthday, Old Gal!
In 1930 Esther Mae Brimer of Cape Charles, Va. sent Sears and Roebuck $1 and ordered a Sear kit home—the Walton model to be specific. And on September 8, 1930, Mr. and Mrs. John Francis Brimer signed a promissory note in the amount of $5,800 for the kit home and agreed to a monthly mortgage of $49.65.
The house has had numerous owners through the years, but I dare say that none of her inhabitants have cherished and enjoyed this Craftsman bungalow more than John and I.
Sometimes, I sit on her front porch and write. Other days, I lollygag in the wooden swing and daydream about the other families who have lived here. Did they have grand Christmas celebrations in this house? Cookouts on the Fourth of July? Birthday parties for the children? Were snowmen built in the yard? Which child (or children) played with the marbles that John and I find buried in the ground beneath the porch railing?
I also think about how proud the Brimers must have been when the construction of their kit home was complete. After all, it was 1930, and the ravages of the Great Depression were looming over our nation. This was quite the accomplishment for a middle-class family.
The exterior of the house has seen the changing of many seasons, an occasional snowstorm, a handful of floods, and the blistering hot days of summer. And still, she stands strong and sturdy—a lovely respite place for her current caretakers.
John and I have made our share of changes to the house. We’ve painted the exterior a fun, beachy color and renovated the original bathroom. We’ve added a second bathroom, an outdoor shower, and a laundry closet on the main floor.
But our biggest project by far was the kitchen renovation. This room was functional but outdated (translation—ugly). And now, well, it’s gorgeous. My favorite part of the kitchen renovation is the ceiling. A portion of the original maple flooring was salvageable (because it was buried under 3 layers of vinyl flooring and 2 layers of ceramic tiles). This recycled wood was used to create a design of concentric squares in the middle of the ceiling.
If this former flooring/current ceiling could talk, I’m quite positive that it would say, “Thank you so for repurposing me and giving me new life. I did not deserve to be tossed into a dumpster.”
John and I know how blessed we are to call this place our “Home, Sweet Home.” And we are grateful.
Happy Birthday to you, old gal.
And many more!
(P.S. I hope I look as good as you do when I’m a nonagenarian!)