"Needs Updating"

I like to watch HGTV once in a while. I am fascinated with the various House Hunters programs, probably because I like to see how people live in other places.

I am amazed at the inflated cost of housing in some parts of our country, but I am even more astounded at the expectations of the people on the program who are looking for their dream homes. I mean, even twenty-somethings expect perfection in their first homes. Consequently, some phrases seem to be repeated on every episode:

"It's a little small." "The bathrooms need updating." "We really want an open concept." "That popcorn ceiling has to go." "We need at least two walk-in closets in the master, and a five-piece en suite." (Really, has the word, bathroom, gone totally out of vogue?) "We'll have to rip up the carpet and put in hardwood floors." And my favorite, "We can just take down that wall." Take down that wall??? Do they know how much work and money that involves?

I probably roll my eyes when I hear someone plan to gut a beautiful, almost-new kitchen, just because they don't like the style or color of the cabinets.

And then, if the homeowners decide to make some changes, they usually complete most of the work before they move in or, more likely, hire someone to make the desired modifications.

Nearly every house I've ever lived in has been a genuine fixer-upper. The first one I remember was the farm house near Bloomfield, up in the northeastern corner of Nebraska. It was modest, by today's standards, and severely lacking in modern amenities. I guess you could say that the small kitchen needed updating, since it lacked one vital component--a sink with running water. And the house lacked another important feature--a bathroom.

We moved into that house, surrounded by rented farmland, the spring I turned two. The un-insulated walls and ceilings were layered with aging wallpaper that remained there as long as we lived in the house. The cold floors were covered with old linoleum. I'm sure that Mom and Dad felt that wall-to-wall carpeting was a luxury they just couldn't afford.

Indoor plumbing, along with a functional kitchen, became the highest priorities. Some of my earliest memories involve my grandpa spreading glue on the kitchen counter so he could install new linoleum on top. He worked hard on the kitchen and new bathroom for several weeks, coming over every afternoon, as soon as he finished his daily mail route. When I woke up from my nap, he was there.

Although I don't remember the specifics of the bathroom installation, I have vivid memories of the day several men installed a septic tank in our yard. Click here to read about the day the septic tank was installed.

The tiny pantry, just off the kitchen, became the home's only indoor bathroom, containing the essential white toilet and a small, metal shower enclosure. We used the new kitchen sink, with hot and cold running water, to wash our hands. If Mom or I wanted a bath instead of a shower, she would fill a big, galvanized steel washtub with hot water, and add a squirt of dish soap to make some bubbles, so we could take turns bathing right there in the the middle of the kitchen. Dad emptied the heavy washtub when he finished his outside chores.

Mom made do with the old existing cookstove, which was a combination propane/wood-burning stove. I never heard her complain. In fact, I think she considered it an adventure to learn how to cook with wood.

Mom's combination fuel cookstove
looked something like this.

Later that summer, Grandpa and Uncle Gary helped my dad build a new house-yard fence, so my baby brother and I would be safe when we played outside. But they left the old outhouse in its place in the backyard. Just like the people on House Hunters, my parents felt that a second "bathroom" was essential!