Saturday, January 26, 2008

The House on 3rd Street

When we were getting ready to move into the neighborhood on 3rd Street, across from the Pagett residence, we had a bit of cleaning to perform before we could occupy the house. The floors were covered in dust and dirt, windows were broken, there was a large teddybear hanging from a rope in the living room. The house was vacant for some time before Arlo and Gatha arranged to buy the house on time.

I reflect in how industrious my father was in improving the house. He installed plumbing in the house with things he acquired at auctions. He was still working for Boyd Pagett at CCG&O, and had access to some of the tools he used there. He installed a heating stove that used kerosene. He repaired parts of the foundation with flat rocks. He put perlite against the foundation for insulation.

The attic was full of junk. Yes it was junk.

The yard was unimproved, no sidewalks. Dad put in a bridge to allow him to drive into the yard. Dad drove the delivery truck for CCG&O. He used the truck to deliver kerosene to the house and fill the barrels that stood outside the living room window. Sometimes we were required (mostly Kent and Donnie) to lug 10 gallons of kerosene home in 5-gallon cans and then put it in the barrels with a 90 degree funnel. The funnel had a lip that hooked inside the barrel bung and a frame that kept it upright. We had to lift the cans up over our heads and pour the smelly kerosene into the funnel. As the kerosene left the can it sometimes glugged and splashed. With practice it was possible to put some kerosene in the barrels without getting soaked in kerosene.

The apple tree on the south side of the house was where dad tied Thunder. Thunder was dad's hunting dog. The garden was built around the tree and was a family project (mostly mom). We never went hungry. I still like my green vegetables.

2 comments:

Unknown said...

Our home there was a special place. It has been hard not to have a place to go back to. I can gather at my home now. There are a lot of things to do here. Mom

Larry said...

The last time we went back to Manassa I did not recognize many of the people. Time has just clipped on past.