My Childhood Home
This house is the house that I grew up in as a child in Pagedale, Missouri. This photo was not the original design of the home. The home is 1,512 sq ft and was built in 1922. I have no picture of the original. The upper level was destroyed by fire in 1973. The lower level was severely damaged and later remodeled by my parents, the second owners of this home. My father and a few of his brothers and dedicated friends rebuilt the upper level. I have fond memories of the second level before the fire. I can recall arched doorways, bay windows, and my sister and my bedroom were co-joined with my brother’s room. My brothers had to enter into our room to get to theirs. My parent’s room was separated by a landing above the staircase. My parent’s bedroom had shuttered windows that practically covered the rear wall of their bedroom that faced the back of the home. It was gorgeous.
After the rebuilding of the upper level and renovating of the lower level, the old-style shuttered master bedroom windows were never replaced. My father made a simple design of two smaller bedrooms in the front of the home and one large bedroom in the rear. Each bedroom having at least one or two rectangular-shaped windows. A rectangular-shaped hallway to ensure no one would have to enter into someone else’s bedroom to get into another bedroom. Everything rebuilt to meet the building codes and no extra money for the classic larger windows of the past. The first level of the home was repaired, with not many changes except the arched doorways were changed to sharp-edged rectangular doorways.
My father was a sergeant in the U.S. military, so efficiency was important to him. He took into consideration insulation and lowering the ceilings to cut the cost. The home’s exterior was originally a brick or barn red. In 1977 or 1978, my father and his friends devoted a couple of weekends to applying white aluminum siding to the home. I believe it lasted twenty years or so. Before my father became ill in 2011, he and my brothers resided in our home. The photo was taken last winter. The first level of the home greets you off of the large covered front porch. The living area is the largest room in the home. It hosted too many parties, celebrations, and bible studies to count. There is a separate dining room and then the kitchen in the rear of the home. The bathroom is off to the side, along with 3 closets. There is a hallway separating the living area from the dining area. You enter the kitchen through the dining area. The basement stairs are met in the kitchen and can lead to the back door. The basement was partially finished in 1997, leaving the laundry area unfinished.
My father spent many hours reading graft and design books. He was a mechanic by trade and to my knowledge had never worked in construction. He was masterfully skilled at adding bathrooms. This home originally had 1 bathroom on the first level. In 1995, my father added a second bathroom for my mother, in 1997 he added a third bathroom in the finished area of the basement. In 2000 he added the fourth bathroom in the garage, so as not to have his guess disturb my mother while they were working in the garage on his latest projects.
The second photo was taken one summer in the 1900s. The photo torn in half, with the wild-haired little girl is me. This was not an attempt to exclude anyone from the photo, it was disappointingly torn this way and I frantically searched for the other half of the picture, which shows the better half, my father. He was standing on a step ladder as his fishing buddy seen in the half photo is seen handing the siding off to my father. You can see remnants of the old-style barn red design of this old home at one time displayed, by the panels alongside the window. The last picture at the bottom is a picture of my then newly married aunt and uncle standing at the tip of our yard. The front yard seemed massive as a child and hosted many childhood neighborhood kickballs, dodge ball, Red Rover, firefly catching contests and hiding seek games. This photo was taken in the 1970's before my father painted the panels alongside the windows black and replaced the old sliding garage door with a modern style garage door that raised up and down.
One Christmas I heard my father say, “I love this house and I know it like the back of my hand.” There was not one area of this home that you can walk in today and not have a memory of my father spending several of his waking hours after working a forty-hour week at a water company. He was tired but he was obsessed healthily with constantly improving our home. This home served its function to the highest. The front porch was a place where we peeled apples, peaches, and pears from the harvest of fruit trees lined alongside the property. There were always flower beds and a large garden to pull weeds from, which taught me the importance of being frugal and preparing for the future. The small kitchen was a perfect fit for my 9-year-old little body learning to cook and playing in the pantry, which was later converted into an area for the refrigerator and broom closet, and a breakfast bar which added more room to the already small kitchen.
My bedroom window was the place where I developed my love of nature as I spent many afternoons feeling safe, daydreaming, and planning my future. I fell in love with the night sky as I watched the moon and stars until I would fall asleep. My father built a bookcase when I was six and required us to spend our summers reading. I would become so frustrated with him, it seemed all of our friends were out playing. The dining area is where we would eat our dinners every day at five when my father returned home from work. My father had high expectations for his children and we were not allowed to clutter the home. My parents were not rich they worked hard to maintain and repair this home over the years My father departed from us in 2016. My mother and my brother are left to maintain and make the necessary repairs. Our home has always been a sort of central location for extended family. Most people would visit during the holiday season. My father loved his family and he loved his home. There are very few extended family members who can say that they had not assisted my father in some home repair at one time or another.
