It's Just a Four Square

One day last week when I arrived home after running some errands in the afternoon, I walked in and found that the dog was blocked in the living room and dining room as though we had some workers here. Then I heard my husband talking with some women upstairs. I was curious as to what was going on.

When I got upstairs, I was greeted by a very gracious older woman and her 50-ish daughter. The older lady grasped my hand and exclaimed, “I love this house. If you ever want to sell it, please let me buy it!”

My elderly friend had moved from my house in 1962 – almost 50 years ago and to this day, has loved this house. She and her daughter were here from California and flew in to Chicago for sightseeing, but the main purpose of coming here was to visit her old home. My husband had been outside doing some yard work when the women approached the house and began taking pictures. When they began to talk, he of course invited them in and gave them the tour.

The daughter was just six-months-old when the family moved from this house. She said, “All I have heard all my life is stories about the house on Waiola.”

My elderly friend reminisced as she walked through the house – the front porch had screens, and she told of the many nights they sat out and just talked and laughed. She believes that she planted the lilac bush on the side of the house. She remembered the neighbors, some of whom I know too.

I have been in my home for 33 years. The first time I walked in the front door in 1978, I exclaimed, “I love this house. Bid full price!”

The house then had gold sculptured carpeting; heavy damask gold drapes with azure sheers on the windows and even the lovely leaded glass windows on either side of the front door were covered with sheers. As I walked through the house at the time, I could envision Christmas in the living room with the pocket door closed part way to hide the surprises that Santa brought; I could see the little bedroom at the front of the house made into a nursery; I loved the clawfoot tub in the bathroom.  The basement was paneled halfway up the wall, leaving the original limestone foundation on the upper half – making it cave-like. This clearly was to be my home.

Now, those two kids who peeked into the living room on Christmas Day are grown; the dogs that they had as kids are gone; the nursery is an office; the clawfoot tub still stands and the windows are curtainless, showing off the grandeur of the natural woodwork that thankfully no one had painted.

As my new friends were leaving, they told me that though they planned many activities for downtown Chicago, this surely was the highlight of their trip.

It was one of my highlights too: the magic that a well-loved house brings.