The Little Red House

The housing crisis of the last 2 years has been the subject of much debate and how it has impacted the economy. Evidently, lenders had plenty of liquid capital to loan prospective buyers, but many of the customary safeguards were overlooked. Years ago, many home buyers were expected to put at least 20% down and show a lengthy work history and an adequate income, to get approved. Shrewd investors can recognize a bargain when they see one, but can remain reluctant to take the chance, regardless. However, those savvy enough to do both, may just bring "home" the house, and when we were kids, my mother did just that.

Have you ever seen a house being moved? It is a rather impressive sight, to say the least, and the engineering involved to get the structure prepared for transport, is equally impressive. Picture this. You are 3-4 years old and you see this huge flat bed truck pull onto your street with a red sided, single story structure. What young boy wouldn't be fascinated by a sight like this? Men and trucks, it was a perfect world on that sunny day. Well, when they asked where they could find the "S's" residence, I realized that I'd have a front row seat for the "barn raising".

My mother had purchased the "little red house" at an auction and paid cash, no financing for this real estate tycoon. I recall that the price of moving it was actually greater than what she paid for it. She had the men position it on cinder blocks at the end of the driveway, and that's where it stayed for the next 20 years. She had us paint it from time to time, and we put flower boxes up, rested wagon wheels from Black River against it, and even put the proverbial, white picket fence around its base. It served as bike and garden tool storage, had a ramp for easy access, and when we were really creative, it became the "little red school house" for all of us.

Yes, the little red house was a fixture in our back yard at Estes Street for many years, like a swing set would have been for most families with young kids. It served us well, but more importantly, it was a symbol of my mother's ingenuity and vision. She created "self storage" long before anyone else had crafted the concept, and that is why she has always been at the head of her class. Just ask the folks at St. Clements or at Regis, where they referred to her as the "valedictorian", but we just simply call her Mom. We love you Madre!