The House Tale: a Story to Tell the Grandchildren

Once upon a time, Bobo, when you were very new and our six-year-old Josh carried you around everywhere... 

--Josh's stepdad Pete and I decided to buy a home.

We were probably daffy to do it, but we wanted it very badly, and somehow or other we managed to get a down payment together and move in to a rickety old house built in 1914, halfway between St. Paul and Minneapolis on the St. Paul side.

Our son grew up in that house, but we grew up too. We insulated the attic bypasses, painted the walls, pulled up carpeting, refinished some of the floors and fixed the porch, which was sagging and wet.

We helped you with homework and science projects, laughed, shared stories, danced, played games, hosted a salamander, hamster and cat, buried the salamander and hamster in the back yard, cooked dinners mostly for us but sometimes for others, curled up and read, watched TV, exercised, laughed some more, worried, talked through family anxieties, fought, made up, and sometimes fought again. Mostly, though, (if you ask me), we had a very jolly home.

There were beautiful wood built ins, tons of closet space, a huge master bedroom and a secret skeleton closet. We put a lifesize (plastic) skeleton in there, and I think he/she felt at home. Your owner got a skin rash while playing in there when he was nine; I think it was the insulation? But at least that kept him from going back inside. I think the skeleton liked being alone.

We also had to fix up the front and back walks, which were sinking and settling; waterproof the basement; and eventually, lift the sagging old house almost three inches because the wood beams in the basement had sunk into the concrete. THAT was expensive and it was the last thing we did.

And, almost forgot, we added a half bath upstairs and fixed the garage, which looked like a sugar shack when we moved in. By the time we left, Bobo, I was tired and wanted to stop spending time and money on the old house, no matter how much I loved it.

We put it up for sale a year ago, and got no takers, because it tilted some and people were afraid there was a foundation issue. (There wasn't.) We got the lifting done and then put it up for sale again, and this time it sold within 24 hours, for $15,000 more than the asking price.

I was happy and then scared and then sad, all at once. I was ready to go somewhere new, but I wished I could take my old house with me; because after 20 years of living in it, that house felt like a second skin.

I was scared of trying to find a new house because there's a lot less of them for sale than there used to be, and the prices are inflated (even more this year than last) -- so you have to put an offer in almost immediately.

For a while, STRESS was pretty much where I lived, Bobo, and I have also worried about you, packed away with other stuffed animals in Josh's hamper. I hope you are OK and want you to know we'll be coming for you, soon, because you are among the handful of kid stuff we decided to keep.

My son found you in the Red Balloon bookstore, while someone was reading Where the Wild Things Are, and because YOU were a wild thing he wanted to take you home. I was a single mom and fought against it, but my son had a knack for persistence, (which is a good trait for sons of single moms). So after a few weeks, we brought you home, and I still don't know why he named you Bobo. But when Pete came to live with us, we got a companion Wild Thing for you -- and as you know, she is with you still.

I think what I'm trying to say, Bobo, is that buying a house is like opening a door to a million stories, and each one layers itself into YOUR story; and that's what makes it such an adventure.

Of course, it takes a while to find the house you really need. Our first house pretty much told us as soon as we walked into it that it needed to be ours. Stenciled cows bordered the kitchen ceiling (though our realtor said we had to remove them before selling). Wallpaper roses ringed the dining room ceiling, and all the wood everywhere made me feel like I was in a farmhouse on the edge of the prairie, even though I wasn't at all.

This year, we found another house, not quite as old, that stood out among all the other houses we were seeing. Mind you, I was trying to find something I didn't have to spend a lot on to fix up, and wanted it to be on the Minneapolis side of things.

Instead, I walked into a house built in 1957, a mile east of our old St. Paul home, with warrens of rooms in the basement and quirky little features everywhere, that looks out on a beautiful lake. And even though it was clear we'd have to do a lot of fixing, your owner's stepdad and me just couldn't resist.

So when we pick you up again, you'll be in a whole new world, waiting for brand new adventures. And I guess, Bobo, that's how it was always meant to be.


Wild Things creature: Nadya Peek

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