I recently listened to a public radio program that focused on the trend of Americans choosing to renovate their homes, instead of building or buying.
A woman in her 30s called in and described her home as a Victorian cottage somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. She loved her historic home, but now that she had children, she felt the family needed to alter their living spaces. This woman did not seem to know exactly what she wanted. Should they build up or out, or take down walls and work with what they have?
As I live in an house built in the 1870s, I completely understood her concerns. But I wanted to tell her that it is possible to live a 21st-century life in a 19th-century home.
When my husband, Paul, and I began looking for a house to buy in the late 1980s, I knew I wanted an older home. I had grown up in a ranch house, and most of my friends and relatives lived in similar mid-century-style dwellings. My grandparents’ houses, however, were from different eras. Mom’s family homestead was built around the same time as the house Paul and I would eventually buy. It had a double living room, a kitchen and a bedroom on the first floor, and three bedrooms upstairs. What had likely been a pantry had been converted into a bathroom.
My father spent most of his childhood in a handsome house that was likely built in the 1920s. Although his grandparents sold the house when I was 10, I still have fond memories of its wide front porch, which my grandfather called “the piazza,” as well as the dark woodwork and oriental-style rugs. Out back was a mysterious building called “the little house,” that by my time was used for storage. A second “little house” was a sort of screen house used for summer lounging.
Both families had big gardens—my maternal grandfather raised a pig every year; my paternal grandparents kept chickens. I wanted to do the same—sans the pig. I didn’t want a farm; instead, I wanted a homestead with a good-sized yard where I could raise at least some of my own food. Also, I wanted a house with character. I didn’t want to fit myself into some cookie-cutter mold.
We found a Victorian house that was built in the style known as “gable front and ell.” In other words, it’s L-shaped. In our house, the kitchen and a pantry-turned-bathroom (yes, same as in Mom’s house) are in the ell on the first floor; above it is a room I believe was used as a “box room” for storage. At some point, dormer windows were installed, making the room usable as a bedroom or, in our case, a library.
The house had the character I desired, including hardwood floors downstairs, tin ceilings in the kitchen and dining room, and glass doorknobs. It has a front porch. But it is far from a grand home. Although it was built in a classic style, everything is on a small scale. For example, there was a detached “garage” that must have been a carriage house when the house was constructed, but it was just a squat, square building, not some two-story structure with a cupola and weathervane. Still, it suited our needs for a time.
Obviously, there are drawbacks to living in an old house. Upstairs, a small back bedroom shares a door with the library. In other words, we have to go through the small bedroom to reach the library. That might have been a problem if we used the library as a bedroom. We have two full bathrooms—but the one upstairs only has a tub and the downstairs only has a shower. This is because the upstairs bath is under the eaves. There is no room for a shower. We could have done a major renovation to install a tub/shower unit, but we adapted to the situation.
Maybe it’s because we had to adapt while we were growing up as well. Paul and I each lived in a house with only two bedrooms and one bathroom. We each had to share our room with a sibling (Paul had to share his bed as well!). Our mothers didn’t have “gourmet kitchens.” There were no walk-in closets, although Paul’s childhood home had a great attic for storage.
I do admire other people’s lavish kitchens. Ours is small and has no fewer than four doors breaking up the wall space. But in my heart, I know that great food can come out of the most small and mundane of places. I have what I need. Again, we could have done a massive renovation to create a modern kitchen space, but that would have defeated the purpose for living in an old house. We wanted to be different.
So, my advice to the young mother on the radio is to try to figure out what she needs, rather than what she thinks she wants. Old houses are wonderful, and when we live in and care for them, we are keeping a tradition alive. Try to stick with your Victorian cottage!
Five years ago, Paul and I did tackle our biggest renovation to date. We tore down the mudroom and shed attached to the back of the kitchen ell, as well as the carriage house. They were not as well-constructed as the house. We then added a family room on the footprint of the shed—a place to watch movies, take a nap or read in a cozy nook. This gave us a spot for a large-screen TV, which our small parlor just could not accommodate. Our much-needed new garage provides safe haven for my Vespa scooter, Bruno; the lawn mower; and the backup chicken pen we use when one of chickens needs an infirmary.
We still don’t have room in our garage for our car, though.
We had an excellent builder who imitated the style of the house in the new construction. Now, if we just added a cupola and weathervane to the garage, it might pass for a carriage house.
But, for now, we have what we need.
No comments:
Post a Comment