The first house I can remember, when I was four, in 1932, is a little brown house in southeastern South Dakota. Since my parents moved to the next farm place when I was six years old, about the only thing that stands out in my mind is that now and then, for breakfast in the summer, Mom would make big, round, very thin pancakes. My older sister Dots and I would roll them up, with butter and brown sugar, then rush outside to eat them on the slanting cellar door. Great fun!
The next house is already covered in Book 3 of my Memoirs. Its most remarkable feature was the large kitchen which had seven doors and four windows. It stayed fairly cool in hot summer, but it was very cold in the winter. During the dust storms of the 1930's dust leaked through every window and door in the house. At night during some of the fierce winds, the house would sway and creak, scaring my sister and me. We slept on the second floor; everything crashing to the ground seemed inevitable.
Skipping ahead a couple of decades finds me newly married (1953) and living in a cheap, tacky apartment building in St. Louis Park, a suburb of Minneapolis. It was a convenient location for both of us, but we had not counted on two drawbacks. First was the constant, strong, pervasive smell of a Skippy Peanut Butter factory just across the railroad tracks, within one block of the apartment. Wind direction seemed to make no difference; it was peanut butter 24/7. The second drawback was living on the ground floor with people above us and laundry facilities below. Early one morning we were startled by a pounding from the floor above, on our ceiling, with shouting and swearing. They thought WE had been making noise right under their bed. Not so, the noise came from the basement laundry where someone had dropped laundry tubs on the concrete floor. Noise?! A good bit of it came from the apartment manager's unit adjacent to ours - wild, loud drinking parties several times a week, often a fight with screaming. The drinking started every afternoon and continued into the night.
We left this apartment to return to Winona, Minnesota and my teaching job after a year's unpaid leave to work on my Master's degree at U. of M. In Winona we had a chance to live in an apartment in a former firehouse. For virtually zero rent, I was to keep the coal-fired steam furnace going. The steam radiators were missing functioning valves to build up steam pressure. Most of the steam heat vented into the three ground floor apartments. The second floor apartments were miserably cold in winter. When I complained to the owner of the building, he was all promises to fix, no action. Firing up the coal furnace was not too hard. There was an automatic augur-type stoker. The coal bin had to be kept full or the fire would go out. If the fire went out for any other reason, the stoker would run and run, jamming crushed coal all over the place.
There were 43 windows in the six apartments. They needed wire bug screens in place every summer, replaced by CLEAN storm windows in the fall. Lots of high ladder work for me.
The next house worthy of note is 3418 Snohomish Avenue, Everett, WA. By far the largest house I have ever lived in, it was described in a real estate brochure as "a doctor's mansion". Built in 1911 on a steep city hill, getting all the way to the house in snow and ice was doubtful. From our attic window we had the most marvelous view in Snohomish County.
We bought this house at a bargain when few people wanted huge old houses. It suffered from general neglect and the ravages of the smoke and other pollutants from the paper mills at the water front just below. The house needed exterior paint, for sure, its paint being a greasy yellow and peeling on the pulp mill side.
Since I had a whole summer to spend on the project, I thought I could work in a leisurely fashion, a day or two per week, until I had to go back to teaching. It couldn't be too much different from painting my Dad's barn, about the same size. However, very soon it became obvious that the entire outside, two stories and a few gables, would have to be cleaned from all of the residue. The fumes from the paper mill had killed all of the lower trees on the land side of the mill. I used a strong tri-sodium sulfate solution and a long-handled mop. Lots of high ladder work and sore skin from any drips. There was plenty of dripping while I scrubbed the underside of the very broad eaves (which I also varnished). The change from the greasy stained yellow to a dignified forest green took two coats of paint, three in some places, all brush work.
And then, the dingy interior! Upstairs four large bedrooms, a bath, a long hallway, an open stairway to the living room, dining room, library, and kitchen. At least this was mostly one coat of paint. The result was ten-hour days, seven days per week, and work left over after we moved in.
The yard wasn't much trouble. It was small, but quite a steep slant for a reel-type mower, hand-pushed. I told myself if I ever had to live somewhere else, it would NOT require mowing a lawn. We lived there about four years, and spent piles of money - on the installment plan - on a new kitchen, carpeting upstairs and down, the stairway itself, a new washer and drier, and new furniture. And even with the help of a weekly cleaning lady, I heard increasing complaints about being unable to keep the house presentable. (The cleaning lady plugged in the vacuum cleaner and left it running while she disappeared for many cups of tea).
And so, we moved to a new, much smaller, ground floor condominium in North Seattle. At least there was virtually no lawn to mow. But in 1976 my wife left me, and moved to an apartment in Bothell.
The next house, in Stanwood, WA, belonged to a retired couple who spent the school year in Arizona. Margaret and Holly had been staying there. We spent almost 2 years at the "Anderson's," moving to "Echappee II" during those summer vacations to live aboard in Everett and sail.
It was at that Stanwood house with its large lawn that I met my nemesis, a big track riding mower. The engine was mostly O.K., but the clutch to move the machine ahead on its tracks slipped horribly. I wound up pushing that accursed thing instead of riding around triumphantly.
Another vow: NEVER to live in a place where I would have to cut the lawn. In 1980 we bought a new condominium on North Camano Island. Somehow I was elected President of the Owner's Association. That was fine until the owners decided the 16-unit building needed a lawn for the entire front side. Topsoil was hauled in; a professional landscaper prepared the site and planted grass. Wouldn't you know, the grass seed grew and grew. I was the one to mow it with a hand-powered reel-type lawn mower. Yes, when we left there after about 5 years, I swore I would not live in a place where I had to mow a lawn.
About one year after our son John was born, we moved to our next place: 1966 Edgewood Dr., Camano Island, a nice, small split-level. The yard had many saplings, a giant Blue Spruce, and an apple tree, woods on all sides. To clear the alders I began with a good sharp axe, but finally bought a
chain saw. After hauling away and/or burning the debris, like a fool, I had a truck load of top soil delivered and spread grass seed to make a relatively level large lawn (and baseball field) with a view of Port Susan. When we sold this house to buy our new live-aboard sailboat "Greta", I remember thinking NO GRASS!
That was true during our four years on the boat in LaConner. Then in December 1996 (John was 12 years old) we moved to the brand new Senior Village, Haines, Alaska. Snow and ice covered the bare fill-dirt surrounding the building. Of course, in the spring the Manager and Board decided the grounds needed landscaping. Margaret was thrilled to help planning and planting shrubs, trees, and flowers. I watched the grass seed begin to grow. I had taken on the job of a paid general care-taker for the Village. Yep, that meant another lawn to mow, and in winter I kept the extensive sidewalks clear of snow and ice, before noon, besides changing light bulbs, repainting apartments when a resident moved out, and fixing leaky faucets. One apartment had been occupied by a chain smoker who never opened a window. Even inside her refrigerator there was yellow dust and a yellow nicotine stain for me to clean.
After eight years, when John graduated from high school, Margaret and I moved back to "Greta" in the Haines Small Boat Harbor. This lasted only a few winter months due to a severe back injury to Margaret and severe sciatic leg pain for me. Bruce Gilbert invited us to rent the tiny apartment attached to Haines Home Building Lumber and Hardware Store.
We stayed there six and one half years, a comfortable, economical nest. There were two drawbacks: 1) an old, mal-functioning, propane on-demand water heater in the kitchen and 2) the store's ancient, leaky (virtually uncontrollable), wood stove which we were to keep going on winter nights. I worried - would we be blown up by propane gas or caught in an explosive dry lumber/paint store fire? However, the low rent allowed us to save enough money to buy our current home.
In October 2011 we purchased our miners' yellow cedar, compact log cabin at 437 Matrix Dr. Before moving in, with lots of skilled help, we remodeled the kitchen and bathroom, added new living room carpet, and a back porch. The front yard is mostly gravel driveway and strawberry beds, bordered by trees and native shrubs along the street. The backyard is rough, uneven, full of stumps, a few rotten logs, some promising hemlocks, spruce, and mountain ash trees, and lots of fireweed and wild raspberries. At the side, are large, homemade, wooden planter boxes for our vegetable garden.
Yes, we COULD spend a lot of money on bulldozers to root out the stumps and level the stony ground before hauling in a load of topsoil and planting a beautiful lawn. HA!!
Bob Plucker, December 30, 2013
PHOTOS
1. M.E.J. Plucker with Dorothy June
and Robert Elvin circa 1931 – From Jean Straatmeyer’s personal photo collection.
2. The old home place near Chancellor,
South Dakota – From Jean Straatmeyer’s personal photo collection3. Skippy Peanut Butter Factory 1947:
http://www.slphistory.org/history/hwy75725.asp
4. Coal Fired Steam Furnace:
https://www.google.com/search?q=coal+fired+steam+house+furnace&rls=com.microsoft:en-US:IE-Address&rlz=1I7AURU_enUS501&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=ouPeUvz7LZXroASYyoLQBw&ved=0CHEQsAQ&biw=1280&bih=620#facrc=_&imgdii=_&imgrc=VNrsOJHtkWa5aM%253A%3B5aszQqjIbNET8M%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Finspectapedia.com%252Fheat%252FFurnaceOctopus01DF.jpg%3Bhttp%253A%252F%252Finspectapedia.com%252Fheat%252FAge_Of_Heaters.htm%3B480%3B640
5. The Big House on Snohomish Avenue:
http://www.realtor.com/realestateandhomes-detail/3418-Snohomish-Ave_Everett_WA_98201_M23221-01670?source=web
6. The Push Mower:
http://www.target.com/p/economy-14-push-reel-mower/-/A-572586?ref=tgt_adv_XSG10001&AFID=Google_PLA_df&LNM=%7C572586&CPNG=Patio+Garden&kpid=572586&LID=PA&ci_src=17588969&ci_sku=572586&gclid=CM7TxOeUkLwCFRSUfgod42IAFQ
7. Skagit Valley College:
http://www.skagit.edu/dir1.asp
8. Condominium on Camano Island:
http://www.trulia.com/homes/Washington/Camano_Island/sold/299105-130-E-North-Camano-Dr-5-Camano-Island-WA-98282
9. 1966 Edgewood Drive, Camano Island, WA:
http://www.homesnap.com/WA/Camano-Island/1966-Edgewood-Drive
10. Bob’s boat at Haines Harbor – From the Matt & Holly Davis family photo collection.
11. The Apartment behind Haines Home Building Lumber and Hardware Store – From Jean Straatmeyer’s personal photo collection.
12. The log cabin at 437 Matrix Dr. in Haines – From Jean Straatmeyer’s personal photo collection.
