This Old House

New England is riddled with two things: Dunkn’ Donuts and really old houses. A little history refresher: Native Americans lived mostly peaceably in this country and, more specifically, in the New England area for ages. Sure, sometimes one tribe had to burn another tribe’s village to the ground. They had reasons. Somewhere on the other side of the world in Mesopotamia during this time there were regular beheadings and concubines. There’s no such thing as a utopian society. So, aside from the periodic bloody kerfluffle between tribal nations, these people lived in harmony with one another and the land. Enter Mr. Whitey Small Pox Colonizer. The first group of Puritans traveled from England to Plymouth, Massachusetts in 1620. They arrived with steamer trunks of disease and misplaced entitlement. In the years that followed, more colonists hit the area fanning out over the region like a form of noxious, blooming algae. They reclaimed (i.e. stole) land, spread their religious beliefs, and built and built and built. Many of these homes and churches and buildings that used to be the blacksmith’s shop or local tavern still exist today.  

Visit just about any city or town, no matter how big or small, how rural or urban, in any state—Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Maine, Vermont—and set off down a random street. Within steps you’ll come across a boxy house painted in a pretty powdered blue built in the Colonial Revival style. You will know this from the plaque affixed near the front door or maybe to a post by the smart, white fence. The plaque states that this is the house of Col. Henry Dartmouth who served in America’s first Continental Navy and who, in 1777, led the charge of the Providence against the HMS Trumbull that resulted in the capture of more than 17 prizes and the destruction of the ship and its crew. All of this relayed in elegant font called Old Timey Script. Well. The last owners of our house were a couple who ran a literacy non-profit, so JUST AS NOBLE, COL. DARTMOUTH!

The Rev. James Comey House, ca 1848, Salem MA. The Rev. thought the raspberry fuchsia tone gave it a nice “sinners welcome” vibe. ©SheilaMoeschenPhotography

You take in these houses with their beautiful architecture, largely unchanged, and unique elements like multi-shaped stained glass windows above the doors and gabled roofs and porches with ornate “gingerbread” details. You read about the original owners, even if it’s just a name and a date: Sisters Alice and Georgia Lewis, ca 1872, or in some cases if the house belonged to someone historical famous like Louisa May Alcott or Ralph Waldo Emerson, and you think, “Wow. If these walls could talk!” You know what they would say?

I hope you’re a trust fund kid because you are going to need every penny just to keep the lights on in this place! Up to code? Never heard of it! Don’t need to! I’m a historic house grandfathered into all kinds of weird, arcane, enormously limiting rules and regulations about what you can and cannot do to my precious walls full of horsehair plaster! Sure the floors are uneven; you could get a sweet half-pipe out of the upstairs hallway, but that’s part of my charm! Hey, whatcha got in that big old moving truck? I hope it’s not a 78-inch flat screen. The only thing you’re going to get through any of these narrow doorways throughout the house that all seem to be built at different angles is a child’s writing desk (maybe) and that microwave. Though I don’t know where you’re going to plug that in seeing as how the kitchen is the size of a gas station bathroom with one outlet. What’s that? Convert the attic into living space? Oh, I’d like to see you try! If you read the property agreement carefully, you’d have noticed the part about how all renovations must undergo a lengthy approval process from the town’s historical commission that meets about once every ten or 15 years. The last renovation bid they approved for this address was by the original homeowner. Plus, it’s likely the house sits on one or more burial sites. But hey! You’re living in this incredible space that existed during the American freaking Revolution! Wow! Just think about that, which you’ll spend a lot of time doing because the Wifi is so weak that you can only be on one iPad at a time. Pull up a chair close to the fireplace—the only one out of seven that works—and think about how lucky you are to have the opportunity, nay, the privilege of living in this house as the harsh winter wind slices through the barely insulated walls just. like. during. the. American. freaking. Revolution!

I am for restoration and preservation and conservation. When you commit to one of these types of homes, you should know what you’re taking on—legacy, a duty to act as a faithful link in the chain between past and present. These things might come free, but they don’t come cheap. I don’t just mean the financials, rather with a great old house comes great responsibility.

Our house is a Victorian-style built in 1890. It is not notable for any other reasons than being old and beautiful. We don’t even have a braggy plaque outside our door. Not that I haven’t been tempted to fabricate my own: Lucille Stanton House, ca 1890, a spinster and Madam of ill-repute. A series of owners made smart upgrades that modernized the house without diminishing a lot of the nineteenth-century charm. Still, in the years that we’ve lived here we’ve encountered issues with basic home repair made a lot more complicated by the vintage of the house.

The first weekend after we moved in, my partner decided to replace the small light sconces on the sides of the fireplace in the den. The first one went in without any fuss. The second did not. Just as he got the fixture in place, the wire slipped his grasp and slithered out of sight down behind the, yes, horsehair plaster wall that he had gingerly opened up. There we were: first-time home owners on a Saturday afternoon with no electrician or handy person contacts to call even if we could, peering into this alarming hole in the wall of our lovely new old house which, in that moment, seemed to be grinning back at us, openly mocking its current residents for attempting something so foolish as twenty-first century living.

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Lens Zen!

In keeping with our architecture theme, here are a few fun things that recently caught my eye. I’m no Mike Brady, but I think these places have some great, and possibly clandestine (!), curbside character.

“Natasha, you say super secrety message in mailbox #4! Am I on the Punk’d? The Ashton Kutcher is very likable.” ©SheilaMoeschenPhotography

“Boris, listen and believe-we put COFFEE sign out, but IN is super secrety headquarters. No one will suspect, lapochka, I do the pinky swear!”