The House of My Youth

Part 3 - Winters

The Old House was drafty. I think it had more holes in it than Albert Hall. (I don't know for certain how many holes Albert Hall has, but according to John Lennon I believe the answer to that question is 4,000.) This wasn't much of a problem from April through September, but come cold weather it was nasty. December through March were particular problem months.

Our first winter was particularly bad. We moved in during the Month of January. And then it got cold.

The previous owners, who were now our next door neighbors and the holders of the mortgage, had installed a hot water system to heat the house. How they managed to survive I don't know. But then I don't think they lived their long. I think they may have purchased the house for a place to live in while they built the fancy house next door. He was a cabinet maker and no doubt did a lot of the work himself. (Oh, by the way. Don't ever call a cabinet maker a carpenter. I made this mistake in front of the cabinet maker's son once and he went ballistic on me. Then he proudly explained that cabinet makers have to be accurate to within 1/32nd of an inch. Carpenters are only accurate to within half an inch. And now I suppose some carpenter is going to post a flaming comment. Well I didn't say it. The cabinet maker did.)

They way the heating system worked was this: 1) water was heated in the basement. 2) water was the pumped into copper piping which ran along the base of outside walls. 3) water returned to basement in order to be reheated. Well, that was the theory. In actuality, this is what happened: 1) water was heated in the basement. 2) water was pumped into copper tubing which ran along the base of outside walls. 3) there was only one exit point from the hot water heater, meaning the hot water being pumped had to remain hot while it traversed all of the house. 4) hot water became cold by the time it finished its run around the main floor. 5) hot water - now cold - froze some place between the main floor and the upstairs. 5) upstairs piping had frost on it. 6) children sleeping upstairs froze their little nubbins off. (Don't ask what a nubbin is.)

It didn't take long before the entire family was sleeping in the overlarge living room - with a coal burning stove providing heat. Sheets hung from the ceiling to provide a sense of privacy. Mickey slept the furthest from the stove, which was near the fireplace in order to access the chimney. Dad and Mother came next. Then Lynahr and Judayl, and finally, Gayanne, Helvie and Me. Ranlan was up in Moose Lake.

For several years this was how we heated the house. The stove would be moved to the dining room either the next year or the year after. This allowed the heat it generated to go up through the floor grating in the ceiling and heat Mickey's room - kind of. Lynahr and Judayl would sleep in the dining room while Gayanne, Helvie and I slept in the small room just off the dining area. Dad and Mother slept in the now unheated living room. We nailed a blanket over the doorway to keep the heat out. Another blanket (sheet) was nailed over the staircase entrance.

After Mickey left home he loaned our parents money and they bought three oil burning stoves. One was put in the living room. One was put in the dining room. And a very old and decrepit one was placed in the kitchen. Now we had heat. You could tell, too, because if you went outside and put your hand over some of the cracks you could feel it. It was kind of like having a warming house while outside playing.

The two furnaces in the living room and dining room were directly linked with copper tubing to a 250-gallon tank just outside the dining room window (talk about a view!). They took their fuel automatically as needed. The decrepit stove in the kitchen did not. This stove had to be fueled the old-fashioned way, which meant some poor slob had to go outside with a five-gallon bucket, fill it up at the 250-gallon tank, haul the bucket back inside and fill the stove's storage capacity. Guess who that poor slob was? From October through April I stunk - really stunk. Washing off the smell of fuel oil is not easy. My skin may have looked clean (and felt sore from all the scrubbing), but it had absorbed the smell, and like a walking sponge I carried it everywhere I went. No one wanted to be near me. Classmates constantly complained about "that gasoline smell". I was big enough that I didn't get picked on - physically. But I got called all kinds of names. Winter sucked!

A new storm front is blowing in now. I can hear the predicted winds have arrived. (Why is it the only time weather forecasters get it right is when they predict misery?) This house is nothing like The Old House. The Old House would be shaking like a rattle. It also felt like you'd left the windows open. This isn't bad, actually.

For some reason I still have fond memories of getting up in the cold, hugging my blanket tightly around me, rushing to the old coal burning stove with Helvie, draping our clothes all over it, waiting for them to get warm, and then getting dressed under the blankets. Once done, we would discard the blankets and freeze our effing a**es off.

The Old House. I actually miss it. Every few years I take a drive out that way to see the place. The root cellar is still there, but collapsing now. A couple of trees remain, but most were destroyed in the fire. Nothing else from my childhood remains - except the memories. At least I have those.