”A modest house”, would say the very least, of this three room, later four, bit of antiquity, of boards of dimension and blocks of concrete and bricks that were stuck under porch boards, leaning windows, persimmon tree’s and crooked porch stands.
There were two doors, one on the front (east) with glass and screen, one wooden door on the south side of the forty foot boxcar, that let you out within three feet of the garden, and would snap that black spring back, popping so loud that everyone knew someone had gone.
Standing inside, looking south, out of the old house, you were eight feet from being out the door. Memory tells the floor and wall plans were pretty simple and the roof was low, no insulation, but covered with heavy paint.
To the left down the north wall stood an old, painted white several times, hutch, that had two doors in the bottom, and above the straight narrow counter of the top, were two shelves that held the finest in dishes for the table. These “finest” were also the “only” dishes, a mix and mash of plates, saucers, a row of cups that no-two matched, that rested behind two over painted doors, made of wood and glass. Directly beneath the deck were two drawers, that, the entire clamber of silverware, with at least a half-hundred spoons, forks, knives and serving spoons came to rest, when the evening meal was finished.
Down and to the end of the car, was a couple of hats, on nails sticking out of the walls, at the end was a small-sized window that could open in the spring and summer, and be tightly shut in the fall and winter.
On the far side there were a couple of shelves that had been nailed to the wall, with pins, and birds, and matchbooks on them. The backdoor (or side) was next, that would open to the left at the right amount to be fastened back against the wall, and the screen door, left shut against the influx of June-bugs and spiders on the outside. The fresh smell of dill would be apparent in the spring and summer, and the calls of the locust (cicada) against the tree out back in the summers heat.
The metal table, with six chairs, that could be as much as eight, before those dining there would spill into the living room, or the front porch chairs, or on the edge of the porch to sit and enjoy Grandma and Grandpas finest meals.
On the far side south east the icebox, which eventually became a refrigerator, but always kept its icebox name, leaned a little to the right.
There was a double sink and porcelain top, with fresh and clean cloth covers, and metal cabinetry of one cabinet on the left, two up high with a fluorescent light, and one down the right.
On the outside of the bathroom wall was a stack of two twenty gallon lard cans, one filled with flour, the other with lard, covered by a clean dish towel and on top was a wash pan for cleaning your hands, and a rounded picture on the wall of a house, with steps coming down, that made it all look alive.
Around the north side was a door into the bedroom, and further down was the Grandparents’ gas stove and oven.
This all may sound as though it were big, and room for lots of people, but one cook at the stove would block the door to the icebox, one person washing dishes would cover the bathroom door, and even as small kids, you learned that traversing the kitchen took time, patience, and a clear conscience.
Grandpa, dressed in bib-overalls and blue work shirt, would have three skillets on the burners, blue flames pouring out, each one popping with eggs, or gravy, one with fresh patty’s of sausage, and Grandma in her dress, would be stacking plates and silverware on the table, and Ain’t Sis would have a massive bowl of sliced tomatoes and a bowl of skins and debris.
All within this tiny space, where voices seemed to echo, and steps would sound gravelly with popping linoleum, and smells of a beautiful garden crossed with breakfast hot from the stove, would make it all complete.
(After the turn of the last century, this house was made larger with the installation of the box car on the left of the picture. The house was originally the two room place on the right, and when this box car was added it brought about a dining area, a stove, a sink, a washbasin, and an icebox. With time, the last ten of its forty feet in length, there was installed a stand up shower, a washer and dryer, and a toilet. These were installed in the early 60’s, and we all took a turn tearing down the outhouse that was about fifty feet west of the house.)
Ralph Peck
Photo by Geraldine Peck
Mtn View Oklahoma
Just north of forever ago
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