As most of you already know, I live in a 110 year old house.  It was built in 1898, and we are the fifth (or sixth?) owners.  As the story goes, the original landowner (our street is named after him) built our home for his daughter next door to his own when she got married.  These homes sat on acres of farmland, with apple orchards surrounding them.  The home was then bought by Family #2 in 1906 and it remained in that family for more than 65 years.  I had the pleasure of meeting “Gladdy” (who lived in this house from the time she was a little girl until her husband passed away) and she was able to tour the house, telling us stories of her childhood and stories of raising her family here.  She talked about her father adding the kitchen onto the home in 1926 because her mother wanted a nice big kitchen.  “Guess who had to wash that nice big kitchen floor!”  she joked.  She told us how proud her father was to have the first “second toilet room” in town!  LOL  And shaking her head, she shared how mad her father was the day she and her husband carpeted over his oak hardwood floors, and how much she regretted painting almost all the woodwork.  “But I was so darn sick of all that brown!”  she said.  We also had the pleasure a year ago, of meeting Gladdy’s son.  He stopped by while in the area, and we were so thrilled to hear his stories of growing up here.  We’ve become pen pals of sorts, sharing news and construction updates periodically.  To quote a recent letter, he said, “Looking back over the years, [our town] and the house will always stand out as one of the bright spots of my childhood.  Back in the late 40’s and 50’s life was fun (we thought), safe and simple by today’s standards.  Kids today would be bored to death…we thought it was great.” 

We love our home, and feel very connected to it’s past and to the families who lived here before us.  We also feel deeply obligated to be good stewards of the property.  With each improvement I think about whether or not Gladdy’s father would approve.  I swear I could “hear” him smiling the day we ripped all the carpet out on the first floor!  And even though the “second toilet” is extremely huge and old, and uses about 10 gallons of water per flush, we can’t quite bring ourselves to replace it with one of those new-fangled water conserving ones. 

I share all this with you, so you understand how cool it was when we unearthed these license plates over the weekend!  In the past we have found letters and books, Valentines and shoes, medicine bottles and wallpaper remnants…this weekend it was license plates and a dairy box!  Zan was cleaning out the garage attic, a nasty task, but at least we were rewarded with a bit of history.  There were eleven plates in all, ranging in dates from 1935-1970.  They will hold a place of honor on our garage wall, a bit more of the history that gives our home it’s character, and yet another connection to the families that gave this home it’s loving spirit.