Since moving to Osage in 1951, our family is renting. Seems foreign, because in Ogema (Wisconsin) we still own a home, the same house where I was born in 1936. I lived there until my father’s work caused him to commute further and further away. Now he’s building Our Savior’s in Osage and he knows it’ll take at least four years. Building or buying a house in Osage isn’t going to happen for quite a while. We all know that, plus we know we can’t afford to build until our home in Wisconsin sells.
Dad found the Watts’ house at Oak and 7th Street to rent. The Watts family built the new theatre on Main Street and they live in the apartment on second floor. We rented the drafty two-story monstrosity two years, but after two years the property came up for sale and we had to move.
Glory be, we’ve rented Dr. Isham’s house on State Street. And even if the rental is only available for one year, while the doctor and family spend a year on duty with the reserves, we are thrilled to have found this place, especially for my mother. As lovely as the home is, she’s most thankful for the basement where the Maytag wringer washer and galvanized steel rinsing tubs stand – so unlike the dungeon-like basement on Oak Street where she had to raise a trap door in order to access the miserable steps.
I’m a senior at Osage High School. Even though we’re renting, not owning a home, I think my peers are looking at me differently since the move, like “maybe she’s okay after all.” And we’re living in the Fourth Ward, the ward with the most status, I’ve come to understand.
This house is magnificent. Where should I begin? There is a grand staircase in the front foyer, rich burgundy carpeting, a fireplace in the living room, French doors leading to one of two sunrooms, a crystal chandelier in the dining room, a sweet breakfast nook, a narrow maid’s stairway off the kitchen, a trumpet vine entwined in lattice work on our back porch.
My bedroom must be one of the doctor’s three daughters, maybe Lizabeth’s. The walls, wallpapered in a pretty pink print, make me feel like a fairy princess. Connected to this lovely room, a single French door leads to the second-story sunroom. A second French door adjoins my parents’ bedroom.
I know the year will come to an end, but I’m going to enjoy every minute of living here. I wonder if I’ll ever have such a lovely house when I get married and have a family.
