Our House

Not every house has a story, but ours does.  It was built in four different phases, beginning in 1953 up on Pleasant Ridge by “Doc Owens.” He was a carpenter in the 1930s then worked his way through medical school to become an osteopath.  When he set up his practice, he built his house near the cemetery.  Maybe he thought it would come in handy in case he didn’t have a cure for his patients.

The house was originally less than 600 square feet with two small bedrooms, one designed to be his office where patients came to see him.

If I remember his story correctly, he later got engaged, then added on a living room and dining room. He built everything in the style of the 1930s, using a lot of salvaged material from older homes, so there are many “built-ins” which add a little charm to an otherwise funky floor plan.

“Doc” used to have an annual pig roast in his yard – the kind where the whole pig is buried in a fire pit for 24 hours.  That fire pit still exists, and in my mind, it’s a monument to all the little piggies that were sacrificed over those years.

The house was surrounded by trees and difficult to locate and “Doc” was worried the local firefighters would never find his place in case of an emergency.  The pig roast was his insurance plan - as he always invited the entire fire department.

Years later, phase three of the house was complete when “Doc” built a second story onto it – turning it essentially into a duplex.  He rented out the upstairs, as I guess the marriage that was pending, fell through.  

The final phase of the house was when he dug out the basement and installed a concrete foundation.

“Doc” eventually rented out both levels of the house and moved to McLean Road.  The Curry family bought the house from him and lived it in 27 years before we bought it.  According to Christie Curry, who grew up in the house, they never used the upstairs in all those years as it was “the scary part” and no one would go up there.  It’s easy to see how the spiders could take over, as that’s a daily battle living in the woods.

In 1988, after Julie Curry’s husband died and her children were gone, she spiffed up “the scary part” and rented it out - to me.  I started dating Kory, and on the weekends he’d come up from Seattle and do repairs for Julie.  He put a new roof on the garage and re-sided it as well.  Little did he know that someday he’d be owning it.

After two years I got married and moved away. I had fallen in love with The Ridge and told Julie if she ever sold her place, to let me know.  Six years later she called.

It took nearly a year of full time work to get the house customized to our liking before we moved in, and now, even after 16 years, the customizing isn’t complete.

We’ve turned the upstairs into our “guest suite” so we are able to host people for extended periods of time without them feeling like they are imposing.  Last week, a family of four moved in.  Their house sold and the house they were going to buy fell through.

Not every house has a story worth writing down, but I love that our house helps us write our own story - as it provides a place for us to be a help to people in need.