Her house was her father's house, my great-grandfather Tony's (I'm named after him) where he had lived since 1930. It hasn't changed much in the past 84 years. And now a second Tony Masinton has taken up residence. I am about the same age as he was when he bought the house, the first house he could call his own after moving his family from town to town for years. And now, we are here, after 15 moves (6 of them trans-Atlantic) over 16 years. The first house we can call our own.
We like old things, Stephanie and I. And this house is a bit of a time-capsule. It is filled with little details from the early and mid-twentieth century, the odd eccentricity here and there (the Holy Light Switch is my favorite, but more on that in another post), and lots and lots of hidden traps for the newby conservationist. It needs work. It needs updating. It needs love. And we have never done this before.
So, since we like old things - and I like old buildings especially - we are chronicling our time with the house. We've been here a week so far. We've spent every day scrubbing and cleaning every surface, peeling away the recent past, and reaching deeper into the house's story. Today, in a very high cupboard in the kitchen I found shelf lining made from the Pueblo Chieftan from July 25 (our wedding anniversary), 1972. It's a tiny thing, but it's a new discovery. We have many, many more to go.
The House. 12 August, 2014. (Photo: A Masinton) |
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