My father wanted to be an architect, but he had to drop out of college to help take care of his sick mother. He ended up running the family hardware store instead. My parents were married during the Depression, and I remember them collecting ideas for their “Dream House” for years as I was growing up. Finally, they were able to build it. My father designed it and had an architect friend put the outside on his floor plans.
The first Christmas in our new house we had a special Christmas tree. The living room on the first floor had a bay window. The bedroom over the bay window had a huge picture window. The attic on that end of the house ended in a peak. We put a fat tree in the living room, a thinner tree in the bedroom, and attached a small tree to the top of the roof. It appeared that the tree was growing through the house. We stopped traffic with people observing this sight, and we had a lasting memory.
My sister sold the home recently, and when the buyers wanted to finish the attic, they contacted a family member out of town to do the job. When they sent that person the plans, he said, “I don’t even have to come and see the house because the plans are so detailed.”
My sister now lives in a retirement home and works puzzles with the daughter of the architect who helped Daddy with the plans. They were so proud when they heard the builder’s comment. They told everyone they knew about what their daddies had done years ago.
–Judy Johnson, Resident