Moving Into an Unfinished House (Remembering)

Moving into an unfinished house is in my blood. On Christmas eve, 1963 (I was 6), we moved into our new house “in the trees” in California. Here I am just before that move when we still lived in “the white house” (an old white farm house my step father grew up in).

The house was in the middle of a grove of very old eucalyptus trees. it was a house by definition, but lacked a few of the assumed amenities, such as interior walls, finished floors, indoor plumbing, or any painted surfaces at all. It was a shell—“dried in”.

Of course, this was all very exciting for a six year old. I remember we had electricity because I have a distinct memory of the smell of burnt spaghetti. I loved my mom’s spaghetti, especially when she burned it. Somehow it made the ketchup I poured on it taste slightly exotic.

It was a great day when we no longer had to relieve ourselves behind a tree, of which there was no shortage. But for years, it seems (and I actually think it was many years), we still used a blanket to cover the bathroom door. “Anyone in there?”, we’d yell as we we’d approach the blanket. Someone got the bright idea of installing a red light/green light sign on the blanket to help inform the huddled masses. Still, there were the inevitable accidents when someone would barge into an already-occupied facility, causing irreparable harm to our young psyches.

But these were good times for a boy with a good imagination. It was in this house on another Christmas eve while we still had the advantage of see-through walls that I saw the silhouette of a large bearded man walking through our family room towards the Christmas tree. I took no end of teasing from my brothers about that one. Nothing they could say could dull the memory of that singular experience. This is at least partly the reason my mom had to finally break “the news” to me when I was, like, 10. It was over a bowl of cheerios, for goodness sake. Oh, the cruel reality and shame. Who was that strange man and what was he doing in our house?

I lived on our island in the trees for the next 13 years, collecting kindling and starting fires in the stove in the winter, playing football, basketball, and baseball (with my two brothers) in their respective seasons, swimming in the creek in the summer, and growing up all along.

I left the trees in March 1976 to serve a two year mission. My folks sold the place while I was gone and moved to another state (I eventually found them:-). I went on to marry a girl from Washington, raise four children who have turned into great people, and move into completely finished homes in Utah, Minnesota, Chicago, back to northern California, Colorado, and now here.

I miss the house in the trees, but I’ve always been determined to live in a finished house…until now. We were so anxious to get out of the trailer that we accepted the unavoidable consequence of a less-than-finished structure. But I did hold the line on interior walls. So, before leaving the trailer, we finished installing, taping, texturing, and painting the drywall. We installed 3/8 plywood over the subfloor and painted it with a strong enamel paint to make it easier to clean. For light fixtures, we installed the cheap plastic one-bulb affairs you see in closets.

But, we have a washer and dryer, something we didn’t have for over a year. So, Connie no longer has to go to the laundry mat. (I’m sure the manager there still misses her.) We have a full-sized fridge AND a separate freezer. We have an adult-sized shower!!! and a real closet!!! For the kitchen, we bought a cheap sink base cabinet and counter top section and installed a stainless steel sink in it. Not much counter space for a home, but “it’s sure better than the trailer.” For a pantry, we retrieved a few of our many book cases in storage and used them for now. The kitchen will be finished later when I have a shop to build cabinets.



I now have a better appreciation for why my dad took so long to finish our house. I remember hearing once that he spent about two or three thousand dollars for all the lumber and materials to dry the structure in. (Less than a tenth of what it costs today.) He obviously refused to or couldn’t take out a loan to build the house. Even though I know he went into debt for a tractor, at least he never had to worry about a house mortgage.

Such has been our approach building our homestead. We owe on the land, which we have scheduled to pay off, but not on the house. And we’re content to take as long as we need and pay as we go (now that we’re out of the trailer) for the blessing of never having a house mortgage. For the bathroom, we still don’t have a door, but the psychological damage has already been done and we’re fine with that.

At least it’s better than the trailer!