I’m Feeling a Little Funny.

I met with my real estate agent today. She also is my niece. She is very thorough, precise, and knows an excellent offer when she sees it. Wendy Welch has sold 3 houses for the Babe and me, and helped us find two homes that were “ours.” Home.

Our retirement home (a ranch style home with a beautiful walk-out basement) is perfect. I tell her often the deck is like a vacation home. We had a two story before, and now, it’s one story. We love it.

It felt weird today. As POA, I was signing papers to sell our family home. Mom lived there 74 years. I am fully aware of the importance this home has for her. It’s an enormous responsibility, and I am honored to be trusted with the job. I’m in awe of the stories in that home. Every room has stories in its makeup. Stories of childhood, teenage broken hearts, and even my living with the folks while my first husband was in Germany, on duty during the Vietnam War. My son Frankie was a baby and my brothers were 10 and 13. They had fun together.

Lots of memories are surfacing, and most of them are very good. How we’ve all grown up into good people. Mom is working her way through the normal grief a person has now. I’m glad she’ll be free of the concern of a house, especially when things go wrong with it. For example, we get severe hail storms in Nebraska. She’s replaced the roof twice in two years. And siding, painting the garage, and all the stress of managing the project. She deserves a rest after all that.

Mom’s happy my Wendy is the agent. She assumed that was who I would choose, as she knows how I’ve been happy with and pleased with her work. This should be fun. Another new experience. Life is good. I hope yours is, too. Have a happy Wednesday, and we’ll see each other tomorrow.

Historical Documents/Home/Family

Today, my emotions and memories ran all over me, and I let them. I’d heard the stories attached to these documents, certified copies, and Declarations of Birth, Marriage, Death, and all the others.

Friday, my brother Steve and I closed the safe deposit box. It holds our family story, births, property purchases, and other tidbits. It’s vast.

Folks married in 1948. Dad owned a Standard Service Station with his brother. When they each received the gracious invitation from Uncle Sam to join the Army to visit Korea, the business dissolved. Prior to that, they had a baby who died at birth. The paper I held in my hand is the only evidence we have of his very short existence. By the time Dad left the states, mom was pregnant with Thomas Anthony, our oldest brother. He was born in June, 1951.

Dad & Mom purchased their home Land Contract, a common practice during that era. The ROI is pretty darned good. They put every penny they had into having a comfy home for their family. Well done.

As Mom declines, it’s got to give her a sense of accomplishment. 74 years. No one will own that property for that many years.

We’ll continue discovering treasures from past, including at long last. The elusive photo of Dad, the first New Year Baby in the State of Nebraska. 1924. It existed, but hid in the safe deposit box in one of those twenty-odd white envelopes. See you tomorrow!