The Other House. Introduction.
NOTE:
This is a very long post.
Make sure you have the time. And some wine.
I have been hiding a house from y’all.
It is the house I actually live in, in Strong City, 20 miles west of the Cross House.
Upon buying the Cross House in 2014, not in my wildest imaginings would I have thought that a decade later I would still be in The Other House.
Many people have asked, many times, why I am still not living in the big house. I have always had two main answers:
- In 2014, the Cross House was not ready for occupancy. No heat or A/C or toilet initially, no kitchen, no bathroom. No cat fence.
- My business. Y’all know I restore vintage lighting. So, I need a great deal of space to store lights. Currently, at The Other House, I have a huge red mysterious storage monolith
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The Monolith began as a 70-foot mobile home. I had it moved to my property in, I think, 2012, covered it in red metal, gutted out the interior, and filled it with shelving. I thought…surely…this will be all I ever need. Within 6 months though it was packed to the gills. So, I had it doubled in width and height. It is huge, the height of a 2-story building. The mobile home is still inside; you can see its hitch, lower right. I built a floor over its roof to give me even more storage. I call this The Attic.
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But this was STILL not enough so I purchased a shed from a local auction for, I think, $100 and had it moved next to the Monolith. I call this the Chandelier Shed as I only store crystal chandeliers inside. It is sitting on a concrete pad from a mobile home which once occupied the lot.
But even this was STILL not enough so I built a delightful shed out of mostly spare parts I had stored away. This is the Shade Shed as I store small glass shades in it. It, too, is sitting on a concrete pad from a mobile home which once occupied the lot.
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Hence, a compelling reason for buying the Cross House was that I could use its massive basement and expansive third-floor for lighting storage.
Hence, a big problem.
You see, before being able to do either, I needed all the plumbing,HVAC and electric work completed in the whole house. Because, I could not expect contractors to pull wires, install PVC pipes, or ductwork while surrounded by delicate vintage lights. This is just not realistic to assume otherwise.
I wish to repeat: This is just not realistic to assume otherwise. Few people seem to understand this. Sigh.
And now, at the end of 2024, a decade after buying the Cross House, I am still not done installing all the plumbing, HVAC and electric work. Mostly done, but not 100% done. Hey, it’s a big fucking house!
A few years ago I belatedly realized another massive issue to deal with: a humid basement. I have been alarmed and chagrined at how quickly paint cans and tools severely rust after spending even a short time in the basement. Fuck. So, I need to resolve this but there is so much conflicting information out there that I have no idea of what, exactly , to do. I have been in Ponder Mode for several years now.
People have asked: “why can’t you live in the Cross House and just keep your lighting business in Strong City?
Because this is not possible. I work on my lights mostly after supper till 1AM. Often, while restoring a light, I need a part from the Monolith. The other day, around midnight, I had to venture out three times to the monolith to get small parts to finish a light I was restoring. Or, a potential buyer sends an email at 10:30PM: “Can you measure X part?” If I respond quickly, I will often capture that sale. If I reply the next day I will likely lose that sale.
In short, my personal residence and my business need to be very close together. Also, when I finally go to bed at 1AM, I need the shortest possible distance between office/bed. There is NO WAY I am going to take a 20-mile drive at 1AM.
THE EVOLUTION OF A HOUSE
A highly distinctive aspect of The Other House is that its every room dates from a different time period to any adjacent room. In short, the house has been built one room at a time, a tradition I have continued. The first room was built with studs 2-feet on center, and the interior was finished with 1×3 T&G boards, painted a dark green. I have no date on this original room. I suspect that it was not intended to be a house but was a storage shed, and might not even have been built in its current location. Note: S means south.
I think, think, that in the 1940s the property was purchased at a tax sale by a couple, the Lawrences. CONJECTURE: They built a stone basement, had Room #1 moved onto it from some other location, added a room (#2) to the north, and continued the roofline over. Inside, they installed 2×4 metal fencing over the walls and applied a thick layer of concrete. Yes, concrete. These two rooms would survive a nuclear blast. Room #1 became a kitchen. Room #2 became a bedroom (and is my current bedroom). There was no bathroom. (they used an outhouse). This house was now an I-shape.
At some point, I do not know when, (another) room was moved to the property and grafted onto the house. This room is plaster on lath, but the lath is a type I have never seen before. This new room was, it seems, used as another bedroom but with a huge wood stove in its center. A 1940s wood cooking stove in Room #1 would have been the only other heat. The pitched roof is at a right angle to the other roof, and there is a crawl-space under, clearly built later than the basement.. The house is now an L-shape.
In the 1960s the Lawrences added a living room, their first! This is on a concrete slab, and with a flat roof, the two causing vast problems over the decades. Room #4 had a wall-mounted gas heating unit. The house is, once again, a square.
In the 1970s, the city forced the couple to install a bathroom,. This resulted in Rooms #5 and #6, the latter being a bathroom. Room #5 was used as a laundry room, and bedroom, as Mrs. Lawrence slept on a cot against the north wall (a relative told me this). There was a second wall-mounted heating unit in the room. The room has a proper foundation and with a crawl space under. Indeed, Rooms #5 and #6 were built by an experienced contractor and exhibit none of the sloppy building practices evident everywhere else. The house was now a rectangle.
In 2000, a massive, transformational change happened when I was alerted about a cool small building, 20 miles south, that the owners wanted demolished. For $400, I had it moved to my lot (Room #8). I was finishing the room on 9/11 and spent the day listening, horrified, to the radio (I had no TV) as I installed trim. To connect the new room to the house I built Room #7 as a link. Later, I decided to make the old, wonky garage into a master bath (Room #10) and to build a second “link” (Room #9). The house is, again, an L-shape. Room #8 is built several feet higher than the rest of the house, in the event of a flood as I am adjacent to a flood zone. From Room #5, one takes one step up to Room #7, and then another step up to Room #8. The latter is now my office but will be the master bedroom. These new 4 rooms have no proper foundations. Yes, bad Ross.
This is a terrible way to build a house.
Very, very VERY terrible.
Each roof is different, as is every foundation. Because the foundations are all different, each reacts differently to wet/dry conditions. The living room (Room #4) with its slab foundation, has the most issues. The slab raises and lowers depending on rain. It also pulls away from the adjacent rooms. Thus, the living room has been unusable for at least a decade now because of these issues, even though I exhaustively repaired the problems several times, with short-term results. I have now given up on the existing roof configuration and plan to drastically alter things by building a sloped roof over the flat-roofed living room.
Curiously, rooms #7 – #9 exhibit little movement. This is due, I think, because Mr, Lawrence had the ground under covered several times with a thick layer of crushed limestone, which forms a kinda concrete-like slab. This is, in part, why I was so casual about proper foundations. A lack of money was also a contributing factor. Good foundations are expensive.
If I win the lottery I would seriously entertain the idea of have the whole house lifted up, and a full basement installed under.
Yes, I make myself laugh.
By the time the house is listed for sale I will have mitigated the very worst problems. But the house will never be a maintenance-free kinda place.
HOW THINGS WILL BE
By the time the house is listed for sale, this is how each room will will be used:
ROOM #1: Formal Dining Room
ROOM #2: Bedroom
ROOM #3: En suite windowed spa bath and expansive, windowed closet.
Room#4: Living room
ROOM#5: Kitchen. Its layout is perfection. It is the best kitchen I have ever used.
ROOM #6: Powder room and laundry.
ROOM #7: Entry and breakfast nook.
ROOM #8: Master Bedroom
ROOM #9: Vestibule with a north door leading to driveway, and a south door leading to fenced yard. There will also be a ladder leading to a second-floor belvedere which will have a built-in computer desk.
Room #10: An expansive, en suite master bath and closets, opening out to a fully private fenced yard with a water feature. I might install an outdoor shower. The room will have three more of the ubiquitous pendants lights hanging from a high vaulted ceiling.
In short: two bedrooms (each with ensuite bathroom), living room, formal dining room, kitchen, laundry room, powder room, and breakfast nook.
THE EVOLUTION OF ROOMS
ROOM 1: In 1996, when I moved in, the kitchen was as grim as can be, like the whole house. It had two tiny windows facing south. There was a range: wood burning from the 1940s, way cool, but its firebox was burned through. No fridge. I spent about two years cooking in the small electric skillet just left of sink. I became remarkably adept at cooking with it. I grew used to warm Diet Coke. The thought is unimaginable today.
I moved into the house in 1996 after losing everything and being homeless for a while. Upon moving in, I had not a single plate, bowl, fork or spoon.
Mr. Lawrence died, I think, in the 1980s. After his widow tried to light a fire in the wood stove in Room #3, the fire department had to be called. The extended family moved her to a rest home, and closed up the house. She died a decade later and the family painted the outside of the house and put it up for sale at auction.
There were but two bidders, and Stan would prove the high bidder at $5500. Yes, $5500. But Stan did not know what to do with the house. So, I reached out and told him I wanted to move in, but could offer zero rent, although I did promise that every month I lived there I would improve the house way more than any rent would gain him.
Would he go for this craziness?
He did. And for the next two years, Stan would dutifully stop by on the first of each month to check things out. He told a friend: “This is the best deal I ever made!”
After 2-1/2 years, I purchased the house from Stan for $8500, after unexpectedly coming into some money.
Before the money windfall though, bit by bit, I picked up things at local auctions for a quarter here, a dollar there. I then came a cross mint condition 1950s GE range and fridge for $100. I snapped them up with lightening speed. The day they were delivered I felt like I had won the lottery. My joy was great. Ice cubes again!!!!!!!!
Over several years I redid the kitchen. I got the beveled glass door and matching sidelights for $50! My joy was great. The door opens to a south-facing deck which has proved wonderful, its decking from a house I help demolish. It is roofed but with a clear plastic section to admit light. I love standing on the porch during big storms. The visible counter is an incredible bit of 1950s Linoleum flooring I got at auction for $1. I finished it with salvaged metal edging. Above the counter but not readily visible are the 1×3 green boards I exposed after removing the bomb-proof concrete wall coating.
I still have the counter. Which begs the question: Why the fuck don’t they make Linoleum this fabulous anymore?
I also added an upper window saved from a house. All the trim came from a salvage yard.
Remember the old?
Today. At one point I realized that Room #5 would make a better kitchen than Room #1, so I moved the kitchen there and replaced Room #1 with a formal dining room. This was part of an overall renovation in 2009. As I was now making money I could do what I wanted rather than being reigned in by poverty. The 1×3 wall boards are now covered in sheetrock because I wanted a less rustic look. You know, less Hooterville; more Park Avenue. I found the 1950s Hollywood-Regency dining set on eBay, and Justin and I made 2013 road trip to New York State to pick it up. Yes, I am that gay. The pendant lights are the first incarnation of of an idea which has proven so fabulous at the Cross House:
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The west wall of Room #1 has one of my best ideas. I covered it, like wallpaper, from top to bottom, with mostly 1940s floral prints I had long collected. I still delight in this. The door opens to the living room, Room #4.
Not once though have I invited anybody to join me for dinner at The Other house, and I only rarely use the dining table. But, I pass through the room many times daily and take delight in having a formal dining room. It makes me feel very adult and right and proper.
Have you ever seen the 1955 film All That Heaven Allows?
In it, Jane Wyman plays a well-off widow, perhaps in her 40s, who falls in love with her hunky, much younger gardener, played by Rock Hudson.
The basic plot is not what attracts my special attention though. Rather, what I have always enjoyed about the film is how elegantly the Wyman character lives. Her house is upper-class perfection, and when people stop by she brings out a full silver tea service, and does so with a sureness that this is How Things Are Done.
I did not grow up in such a house. We soooooooo did not have a full silver tea service set, or a single crystal glass, fine china plates, or even a dining room…formal or not. We had a table in the kitchen.
I used to delight in the house of my dad’s parents. They had a formal dining room. It also had an actual china cabinet stuffed with incredible, inherited beautiful Victorian-era Havilland china. The house also had a powder room, something which seemed to young me the absolute acme of luxury. Our family of six shared a single bathroom.
Millions of people grew up as I did, of course, and it is possible that we have not been irretrievably harmed by not having a full silver tea service on hand. Possible. But not likely.
That my young life was normal-ish though never stopped my yearning for a finer life. Again, that damn gay thing.
Thus, you can appreciate how ecstatic my inner child is that I can now do things like this. Even though I still do not have a full silver tea service. Alas, I may also never be Jane Wyman. But I do now have 7 bathrooms.
Room #2. Yes, I know, You gasp. As bad as the other rooms were, this was my bedroom just after moving in, 1996. The fold-up bed came with the house and I was grateful for it. Daily, I made the bed, thinking…foolishly…that this would mitigate the horror of the room. The window originally looked out to the back yard, but when room #5 was built, the window was blocked over. I had Room #2 vastly improved soon after moving in. Of course.
I covered over the window, and painted a mural. The sad bed (and sheets) did not last long. This image is from about 2005.
In the 2009 renovation the bedroom got redone. I replaced the mural with a plastic “headboard.”. Note the same pendant lights as used in the dining room.
The headboard lights up. The effect is dramatic at night.
Room #3. You were probably thinking it could not get any grimmer. It did. You can see the smoke-damaged ceiling from the 1980s fire.
Yes, this really is the same room. I converted it into a guest bedroom. Today, it has been converted yet again, and is now half my spa bathroom and half a huge walk-in closet.
ROOM #4. Living Room. South Wall. Just after I moved in. I like how my ‘entertainment center’ is sitting on a 5-gallon joint compound bucket, far right.
South Wall. 1997.
Looking West. 2006. Later, I replaced the Eames globe with a triple version of the pendants in the dining room. Each pendant hangs at a different height. The room looks nothing like this today. The furniture is all pushed to the walls, covered in plastic, and the center of the room has large plastic pans to catch water. Yes, it is horrible.
South wall again. 2006. The small opening, left, looked into the kitchen. I closed this up when the kitchen became the dining room. I later replace the curtains with a blue damask print.
North wall. Where the painting is, used to be a door into Room #3, and another small opening to its left. I covered all this up during the 2009 renovation.
From Banal to Dr. Suess.
When I moved into the house in 1996, it was plain, odd, white box.
It had zero architectural distinction. As you can imagine from a house cobbled together like Frankenstein.
Oh. Dear. This just would not do.
The main facade. The gable end to the left is Room #3. The flat-roofed Room #4 is right. It had an ungainly very wide fascia which you can see far right. I decided to mask the 1960s addition with a pergola. Which I think looks great even though a lot of you had a heart attack at my temerity for even suggesting such a thing at the Carriage House. I found the tapered columns at a salvage yard and had them stored for many years. I hauled them out for this pergola, and made bases for them.
I had the surreal idea of creating architectural distinction by channeling Dr. Seuss. One day, Girl Scouts stopped by. One asked: “Is this your house, sir?” I smiled and replied yes. She stepped back, took it all in and said: “Awesome”. My best-ever compliment about my work. The house is now known as the Dr. Seuss House.
The north window of Room #2 (right). Room #7 (The Link) is left. I adore the porch railing. It later rotted out and I removed it. A number of years later I recreated it out of treated lumber and that is how it is today: cool & fun but maintainence-free.
Befitting its Frankenstein heritage, the exterior is a mix of various coverings. Rooms #2 and #3 (see above) are covered in a rough stucco, presumably added in the 1950s.
Rooms #4 and #1 are covered in 1940s cement siding (likely Asbestos), ubiquitous to the era.
The 1970s rooms, #5 and #6 are covered in 12-inch-wide Masonite siding. I used this on rooms #7 – #9 (see photo above).
My plan is to resurface much of the exterior in taupe…brace yourselves…vinyl siding. But I will not cover over any door or window trim. It seems critical to reduce the maintenance of the house for any future buyer, in addition to my not being young anymore. There is no way I will be able to muster the energy to properly paint the miles of existing siding. I will retain all the Dr. Seuss trim. I will also change the exterior trim color to something complementing the taupe siding. Thus, the current gold/green colors will vanish.
Inside, again befitting its Frankenstein heritage, every floor was different, and all at slightly different levels. I do not have OCD but, geez, I grew to despise this. My solution, beginning during the 2009 renovation, was to lay down OSB board everywhere, leveling floors as needed, and then covering this with those cheap cheap cheap 12×12 Kentile vinyl tiles you see in airports. My brilliant idea however was to use two different colors, taupe, and a darker taupe, and then lay them down in alternating 2-foot-wide stripes. It actually looks great, as later posts will reveal, and as can be seen in the Dining Room picture, above. Today, all the floors are the same height…squee!!!!!!…save the living room, which is a few inches lower and with a ceramic floor I installed in the late 1990s. There are also, importantly, no thresholds between rooms. Save the living room, each room flows seamlessly into another…super-squee!!!!!!!! I call my solution the cheap man’s terrazzo.
Doors were another early issue. The house only had a few. Curiously. Thus, imagine my great delight in finding at a salvage yard a set of 5-panel doors from a former military barrack, and all with the frames, hinges, and doorknobs. Later, I upgraded the cheap military hardware with solid brass hinges, and octagon glass doorknobs. I am sure you appreciate how vital such details are.
By such measures, the house feels significantly less cobbled together; more Cary Grant than Frankenstein. Using the same pendants lights in so many rooms adds to this cohesive look.
I also added central air/heat in 2006. I even installed the ducts myself. I felt like a God.
The house was also amazingly underpowered, with most rooms having a single ungrounded electrical outlet. Only the 1970s rooms, #5 and #6 were properly wired. Today, the house is fully rewired, and with SIX lights in the basement.
Rooms #8 – #10 have their own electrical panel, and a separate heat/cool system.
Most of the yard is ringed by an eight-foot-high fence in steel so the cats cannot climb it. Just as I have now done at the Cross House. I installed a 8-foot wide circular pond around 2000, and it is filled with my now old, large goldfish. It has small river leading to it, and a waterfall feature. There is another small kidney-shaped pond with a gurgle jet. Thus, the yard is very private and sounds great. I think this will hugely appeal to any future buyer.
The property is lush with majestic Black Walnut trees, keeping the house fully shaded. On hot summer days, friends stopping by for a visit invariably comment: “Coming here is like entering a different ecosystem. It’s always so much cooler.”
Even with all its problems, the house and property and outbuildings were valued at $140K in 2014. A vast increase from its 1996 auction price of $5,500! The value will be higher today, and once finished.
I hope you have enjoyed this long tour. Finishing the house is my Project 2025 plan. Every single day I will do some work on the house. Maybe just ten minutes one day, maybe 4 hours the next day. This will not matter. Only this will matter: do something every day.
See you in a year!
NOTE: I wrote this very long post because I thought if y’all had a good sense of The Other House, all my many subsequent posts about it would be more engaging. For me, I can’t connect with a house blog or house vlog if I have little sense of what I am looking at. A floor plan is essential yet it amazes me how few bloggers/vloggers include this essential information. I also want to know the history of the house, etc.
I will continue posting about the Cross House as well, fear not!
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Very cool house! My 1909 Portland, Oregon, cottage wasn’t quite as grim but had some really awful spots, especially the bathroom. I redid it from the outside in and room by room. When I sold it in 2007, it was pristine and delightful. It’s still standing, and the sale price keeps going up.
Thank you SO much for sharing where you started from and how far you have come! It is all so well done with such a wonderful style! Here is hoping room 4 can be brought back into the good zone so every one is a functional one.
I love this. Thank you Ross for waving your magic wand and then sharing the results with all of us.
Dear Ross,
I inherited a silver coffee/tea set from my grandmother, who was an antiques dealer. It is very distinctive, being octagonal on a round base. I have never been able to find a similar set online, to estimate its value. My grandmother only kept the very best antiques, so I imagine at one time it was quite valuable. Living in rural Iowa, and not having any connections, I don’t have any way to sell it for its true worth. I would be willing to sell it to you for its value as scrap metal, since I imagine after I die that is what my kids will do.
Hi Ross!!! Do you have climate control in the red monolith and the 2 sheds??? If not, how do you keep your lighting from rusting??…..like it would in the Cross House basement?? Just wondering….had an auntie who said her basement was ‘dry’….could I store a couple of antiques that belonged to Great-Grandmother?? HOLY CRAP!!! So lucky to find someone who could fix ’em. I love a house with character—I think yours has the MOST character I’ve ever seen!! Really enjoy this post!!!
The monolith and sheds have no climate control. They all get soooooo hot in the summer that I think this dries up any humidity.
And, thanks for the kind words!
Oh my gosh, your house is almost as fabulous as you! Thanks for showing us all the “before and after” photos. The transformation of your Frankenhaus to Marveloushaus, is miraculous and marvelous. BRAVO!
And now, here is a typo report:
— 7o-foot: should this be 70-foot?
— Not sure what “altered” should be in this sentence: “In 2000, a massive, transformational change happened when I was altered about a cool small building, 20 miles south, that the owners wanted demolished.”
— “En suite” is usually two words. You can choose to make it one, though, as long as you do it consistently (this is more a stylistic choice than a typo): “ROOM #3: Ensuite windowed spa bath and expansive, windowed closet.” UPDATED to add: It looks like you ARE using it as “ensuite,” so maybe ignore this comment.
That’s all I spotted, as at some point I stopped looking at grammar and got caught up in the narrative. Love this post — it’s one of the best you’ve ever posted, and that’s saying something.
Thanks, Barb!
Wowie! What a great post. I’ve always been curious about your house and now my curiosity is delightfully sated! Anything Suessian is fine by me!
It’s truly remarkable how much time and energy you’ve applied to your house, the Cross house, and to your lighting business. You are a hugely talented person. Thank you so much for sharing your inspirational journey!
My favorite post, and I’ve read them all. Thanks for making my day!
The Dr. Seuss program was a genius move. Way to take something less than desired and make it great.
My daughter-in-law is from Cottonwood Falls so she and my son bought a house there shortly after their marriage. When I was visiting them one day my daughter-in-law took me to see the most fabulous house in Strong City. She said the man who lived there had a ton of cats and was very eccentric. Years later I discovered Old House Dreams and started reading comments about an amazing old house in Emporia, then discovered your blog. Fate is a strange thing. Eventually the kids sold their house and moved to Wichita for better job opportunities so I don’t get up that way much anymore. We go to Emporia once in a while because she still has family there. I always drive past the Cross House when I’m in town. I wave and say hello 🙂
this is awesome Ross….
With the amount of details you have, you ought write a book about it, showing the transformation and before/after. I bought my Queen Anne in 1992, moved in to it in 1994. Kinda same issues, no functioning bathroom, no kitchen whatsoever, no hot water. Took two years to get something together. I was unemployed, going to MSU driving every day 70 miles one way, while working on the house with eventually part-time wages. I was in that situation from 1992-1999. Tough time. Beans, rice, Mac & Cheese….. If you’d like to take a venture into what we did, you can dive into the rabbit hole here. It shows a great deal from the past. https://www.facebook.com/WolfarthHouse The book I self published using Shutterfly. I have continued to update the book with any changes we do. I could send you a link to view it privately. It takes you to the book, you can thumb through the whole thing, but of course, Shutterfly would like it if an order was placed, which I don’t want out in the world at large. If you’d like to see, send me a note.
Uh, wow.
You are so lucky to have found Stan and that was the best $8,500 investment you ever made.
The photos and floor plans help a lot and I love the history of the place. It’s evolved a bit like property in Italy.
Are you sure you could sell it or have you brought it up to code and there are permits and such. Would you want to sell it even after the Cross House is completely up to what you need to make such a move?
With both that big shipping container and the shed, plus the house you must have a plot of land too. You know they’re not making any more of that so land is always a good purchase.
You have done wonderous things with that place. I suspect it might be worth even more than you’re guessing. Especially if you found the right buyer that desired that shed and shipping container for their business.
I’m sure the humidity problem in the Cross House basement could be addressed. Perhaps once all of the plumbing and HVAC is finally done you can store everything up in the attic space and make that your storage/workshop/office so everything is together in one space and you don’t even have to go back and forth between the basement and attic.
I have a formal dining room as my kitchen is tiny. I did have a small table in there with a chair but eating there facing a wall was not very appealing. So I have a dining table but it is small for the room. Seats four as is and I can pull it out with a built in leaf to seat six. I don’t entertain so I don’t really need anything bigger. There is now a vintage sideboard where the table used to be in the kitchen, for additional storage. I lost a cabinet and drawer to the installation of an apartment sized dishwasher. I have a really small sideboard I am turning into an island but it needs to be on wheels so I can wheel it back and forth out of the way when I don’t need it for working. It is on my personal Project 2025-28 list to finish as I have all of the components to finish it, I just need to get them all attached; wheels, handles, extension cords, butcher block top (which I will have to cut twice to fit and then finish it). Perhaps over the Christmas holidays. I am putting in a USPS vacation mail hold over Thanksgiving so I can lock the gate and then work on repair of the south yard gate that has been broken since 2018. I will be gathering supplies this and next week and then starting on Wednesday after the mail is delivered. That gives me five days until the following Tuesday. I think I can get it done. But you know how old houses go. It always takes you three times longer than you think and you are always short one tool or part.
Speaking of lack of formal dining rooms and tables, have you noticed that soup/salad/pasta bowls are disappearing from dinnerware sets. I’ve noticed it at Williams Sonoma. I was looking at their Thanksgiving sets and they have dinner and salad plates and even appetizer but there is a lack of bowls except larger serving bowls. Does no one have soup any more? Is salad only eaten from a plate now? Are salad plates and dessert plates the same now? No bread plates either? I have a complete service for 12 in a vintage pattern and I have all of that stuff. Both regular soup bowls and rimmed soup bowls. Chargers, dinner, salad, bread and dessert plates. Coffee, tea, sugar creamer, salt, pepper and two sizes of platters and three different serving bowls, one covered. The only thing they did not make in my pattern as far as I know is a soup tureen, which is fine as I have three or four of them. Then there is flatware. I have some vintage silverplate that has all of the modern stuff plus extras like two different soup spoons, three actually if you count the bouillon. Do they have iced tea spoons and shrimp forks any more? Butter knife and jam knife. Fish server. For the fish course.
Have we become barbarians?
Yes, we have become barbarians. I have a lovely china set for twelve from my grandmother that dates to the 1920s. It has every type of plate and bowl one could wish as well as numerous serving pieces – at least twenty. I also have a vintage (1940s) set of sterling flatware with all the extras. I’m 76, and none of my children or grandchildren want either one. When I eat at my daughter’s, I’m lucky to get my own knife along with a fork and a piece of paper towel for a napkin.
@Karen I also have some lovely antiques. We are redoing our will (second marriage, 4 kids) and I have asked any of the antiques/silver that they don’t want be donated to a historical or theatrical organization. Maybe you could make a document that stated
A similar wishes for that lovely China. Someone will value it.
I’m single. I have no one to leave anything to.
I am already downsizing or death cleaning or whatever. I will still have a lot left.
I’m anticipating living in my house for maybe another 10-20 years, moderately purging every year. Then there will be a second phase of serious downsizing to move into a senior living place and I will likely sell the house. Some things will be donated to charities. The local watercolor society will get all of my art supplies. The San Diego Humane Society will get a lot for auction. They are also in my trust as they will be guardians to any dogs that outlive me along with a monetary stipend for them to monitor any fosters that take my dogs in. My yard is extremely secure so, with the house mostly empty, I might leave it to them as well for use as a foster house for dogs needing a bit of extra help in order to get them adopted. It is something I will discuss with them before doing so. Otherwise I will be selling it to someone that will appreciate it as much as I have, maintain it and enjoy it. I will make sure that at least it does not pass from me to a developer who will raze it and build an apartment building. There is nothing special about my house that would protect it. It does have 60% of the parcel, a two car detached garage of the alley providing off street parking and has solar panels and a tankless waterheater to keep utilities costs down. Nice size front and back yard. By that time I will have zonal mini-split combo HVAC in several rooms in the house and all of the yard will be on drip and timers. Completely landscaped with fruit trees and raised bed gardens. It will be perfect for the right kind of person. I will try to ensure that is where it ends up. My concern is the same as others. I don’t want some developer to replace my house with an apartment building after I’ve spent my life improving it and the what land I have.
We are in the same boat, Karen. We do not have any kids. Our nieces and nephews are not interested in the house or its contents. We are unsure what to do as we are in the middle of writing our trust. Who do we leave all of this to? How do we make sure the legacy of this house continues? We bought it from the original family so I am only the second owner. It was built in 1893. In the past, magnificent mansions were given to the city or the school system. Every single, one of them no longer exist. Those entities do not treasure what they are given, and they eventually demolish them and build something in its place or leave a vacant lot. Any suggestions from anyone?
That is a problem. I do not have a house to leave at least. Is there any way to set up a trust or a sale so that the property can’t be demolished? Can the register for historic properties protect it? Good luck. I have decided that I don’t really care where the china, silver, and other antiques go after I’m gone — except for my grandmother’s engagement ring from 1909. I’ve had my kids claim a few things that they want and told them to hire an estate sale company to deal with whatever they don’t want. I refuse to downsize as I like looking at an using my antiques.
@Kevin I just replied to @Karen before I read your comment. So pls see my idea above for “stuff.” As far as the house, I don’t know, but there is a historical mansion here in Westchester (the John Jay house) that was donated to a church , which sold it to a developer! Eventually a John Jay society formed and bought the mansion, although by then it was in disrepair. It is now a museum (it needs a lot of work…) Maybe something like that? Is there historical significance that a non-profit group could take on?
Hi, Kevin.
I share your concerns.
Have you considered giving your home to the National Trust? They are good stewards of a number of significant properties.
NOTE: I’m pretty sure they will also need an endowment.
I haven’t considered the Trust. I’ll look into it. I suppose if we don’t spend our retirement funds on travel, we could create an endowment.
Oh, oh my! I love everything about the “other” house in your life, Ross! 💜 You’ve proven well beyond any doubt, that a sow’s ear can indeed become the loveliest of silk purses. I’m already envious of whomever gets to live in this lovely rambling, yet extremely cozy treasure. 💚
Love! Love! Love this post Ross! You are truly and inspiration. I will try to do something right along with you every day, on my 50 year old Tudor dollhouse restoration. I have rebuilt 15 window, replaced the stair treads, and I am about the polyurethane the floor. And wallpaper. It’s all nuts, in miniature. Thankfully, it absorbs me enough to forget for a while about the world as it is today. You are always with me when I work on my little house.
Just WOW, Ross, In my mind the “other house” was way more conventional and not nearly as interesting. It makes your managing of the Cross House and the Carriage house on top of this… (excuse the following phase as once it came into my head, I could not NOT type it), bizarre erection. You have an incredible gift for making silk purses out of sows ears, or several sows ears haphazardly stapled to each other.
Ross, I’m so glad I just belatedly stumbled onto this post (and subsequent updates) about The Other House. A fascinating read, prepared in quintessential Ross fashion. This story explains so much about your design choices for the Cross House (I immediately recognized those pendants). Thanks so much for finally sharing this “other” side of your world!