House on London St.

by Tom Peters

Even though I witness insulation going into our new house as it was being built on London St, it wasn't til after we moved in that I was the first to discover cuddling in front of heat vents to keep warm in Michigan’s frigid winters.

I know now a 2 bedroom, 1 bath house for a family of 10 kids plus two parents sounds insane. But at that time it was 'only' our parents, myself (first born), brother Dave and baby Gary. In the next several years the number of children increased to ten. Janet and Joan (twins), Joyce, Sharon, Robert, Kenneth, and Raymond joined the family.

The basement was the cool sancuary for Dave and me, while baby Gary for a short period slept in his crib in one fo the two main floor bedroom, our parents in the other.

I obtained a life-long love of the smell of fresh cut pine while helping our father transform the attic into a bedroom for the girls. My ever-so-handy father showed his masonary, plumbing and teaching skills as us boys watched him construct a bathroom with a tiny shower in the basement.

In the driveway, we learned how to repair cars and in the laundry side of the basement how to repair appliances. This was home to his prized workbench.

I remember being so terrified during storms watching the two giant elms out front swaying slowly back and forth, in my mind, ready to come down on our house at any time. This actually happened to the Fitzpatrick’s home down the street.

During a blackout at night, you knew where you were by the smells; ammonia around the diaper pails, mold in basement shower, W-D-40 near Dad’s workbench, perfume in my parent’s bedroom, and dusty pine in the attic before my dad refinished it and around Dad's work area doing carpentry work. The fruit closet under basement steps had a smell I’d recognize but can’t quite put into words, maybe musky, woody and damp.

There was a built-in laundry chute was tucked into the walls ran from the attic bedroom to the basement and a milk chute was nest to the side door. The Calder's milk truck stopped regularly to deliver fresh eggs and milk in glass bottles that would clink together as he approached. Occasionally, we’d get locked out our home, while young and skinny, I’d have to squeeze through the milk chute to save the day.

My mother was always busy, cooking, laundry, changing diapers and keeping living room extra tidy for guests that could show up at any time.

The small kitchen gave off strong and inviting smells near dinner time.
Liver, bacon and onions in the electric frying pan was one of the more distinctive aromas, followed by tuna casserole.

It’s where we were blessed with consistently joyous Christmas seasons and fun packed summers after the above-ground pool was installed (by our father of course) and I developed a lifelong intolerance of raised voices.

I loved that tiny home on London Street.