When you live in an old house, you’re never sure how much money you should put into it. Will it maintain its value? Usually, yes, a well-maintained one will hold value. My house is 100 years old and I sometimes ponder moving, encouraged by my kids to find a home with one floor–an older person home where I won’t fall down the stairs. But I haven’t fallen down stairs since that one time in Detroit. And this year, my husband fell in the kitchen, not on stairs, and broke his neck–no home is safe if you aren’t paying attention. And my house has a fallout shelter so I’m not moving for at least four years.
Throughout the years, my older home has gotten –among other things–new basement floors, some new wiring, radon remediation, new paint, a new front porch, a new driveway, and refinished wood floors. As for redecorating, I’ve done some, but old bedrooms and their archaic wallpaper borders hold happy memories. The upstairs bathroom wallpaper is a relic, but I can still picture my happy kids splashing beneath that paper. Back in the day, my husband was handy, but he’s lost his enjoyment of it. I can paint but I’m too short for some spots even with a decent ladder. There’s been a comfortable sameness, a sentimental inertia. But recently, something has pushed me toward doing more than just preserving the status quo. My husband got locked in the bathroom.
A too- old lock broke. His neck was as broken as the lock so climbing out the window wasn’t an option. The screwdriver handed through a transom didn’t remedy the situation. He had to bust the whole lock and in the process, the hollow core door cracked. Memories or not, it was kind of ugly and cheap. And now busted.
We replaced it and the companion door to the basement with some oak doors to match the floors. Oak may be out or maybe it’s back in. No matter. The contractor was a perfectionist and the doors are beautiful. They bring me joy, even a calmness, because they aren’t janky. The locks are new and so are the latches. We can close the doors with confidence.
The doors tell me what Aerosmith tried to back when I was a part time DJ (although Dream On was on oldie by then): the past is gone. Maybe after I paint the hall to the bathroom, I’ll find something new to spruce up, and not let sentimentality hold me back. Then, someday, I’ll move on to my one floor dream house in a liberal area. Dream on.
Above: a new door, and although I did love the beagle mutt that scratched the old frame, it’s time for a new coat of paint. And yes, my husband’s neck has healed.
Catherine Haustein 