Gables, Steeples, and Other Points

Well, I promised a point to those early posts about our grand lodgings here in San Francisco, and it seems my day of reckoning is at hand. The trouble with beating around the bush for a month is that sometimes, in the business of living, you realize your original impression and intended "point" were not precisely right. You find that maybe you should have taken some time before drawing (and worse, promising) a conclusion.

So here is where I finally get to my original point before admitting new facts in complete opposition to it--then swiftly reconcile the two, so that I appear to have been right all along. (Ah, that law school training finally comes in handy.)

When we first arrived, you will recall, we were impressed and even overwhelmed by the
beauty of this place. Yet, quite honestly, it left me uneasy and wound up—the way I might feel wheeling a triple stroller though a narrow-aisled crystal factory. Our son Patrick hated the place right off the bat. Victorian gables and elaborate furnishings suggest haunted houses to little boys, and he would not so much as walk from one room to the next by himself for a full month.

The girls, although enamored at first, did not really fare much better. Only Agnes continued to love her surroundings without complaint (primarily because of a volume of Shakespeare eight inches thick to keep her occupied). It was clear the other girls felt stifled, as if they could not play or do anything lest something should break. Television viewing and bickering were embraced as cherished hobbies, and I began wondering if we had not entered the region of California known as “Whine Country.”

After a few days of beating up against the bars of her gilded cage, Theresa seemed to speak for one and all by exclaiming, with no small measure of disgust, “I feel as if this is a Stuck Up House.”

Now according to thirteen-year-old Agnes, there are two subjects Mommy is obsessed with and raises whenever possible—the importance of choosing a good husband (if they are one day called to married life) and the perfection of small houses. My speeches on husband selection usually take the form of pointing out potential “red flags” to keep in mind for the future, red flags being things like nose piercings, pink hair, unnerving tattoos, smoking, excessive drinking, sullenness, dishonesty, tax evasion, bad manners, a criminal record, boorishness, reckless driving, reluctance to hold doors, soup slurping, and a seemingly bottomless list of other quirks and foibles I do not wish to see in a son-in-law.

My speeches on small houses, on the other hand, are designed to help my girls become content and joyful in any surroundings. Hopefully (so my theory goes), if the children see small spaces and cottages as the ultimate in beauty and coziness, they will avoid a lifetime of yearning, covetousness, disillusion, debt, and discontent. The moment the girls grumbled about our stately manor house here in San Francisco, I felt validated. “You see?” I remarked smugly sagely, “It is just as I have always told you. Big houses do not lead to happiness! Remember this when you grow up!”

This was the point I was planning to reach in those first few posts, and I probably would have attempted to make it more delicately were it not for everyone’s complete and utter change of heart.

Once again, Theresa acted as the mouthpiece for one and all. As we sat talking about our love for San Francisco, hoping to return one day to this ethereal City by the Bay, the coiner of the term “Stuck Up House” declared (and adamantly, I might add), “If we do come back, I hope we can stay here again. San Francisco just wouldn’t be the same without this house.”

So you see my dilemma? I was trying to come to a point based on my daughter’s feelings over a month ago, and experience appeared to have taught her the complete opposite. Moreover, she had uttered my own unspoken thoughts as well. I would be lying if I did not admit to loving every inch of this place, each tasseled curtain and soaring ceiling, the front stairs, the back stairs, and all five glorious mantels. Even the reluctant Patrick has his favorite nooks and corners, perfect for pitching sheet tents or establishing imaginary zoos in which he is the naturalist in charge of all exhibits.

Mulling things over afterward, I realized what had happened, relieved to find the “point,” though off shivering in a silken-tasseled corner, still remarkably intact. No house could make us happy--WE had made the house happy! We did not love this place because it was opulent. We loved it because we had begun to fill it with family history and memory. It was no longer a looming, antiseptic, untouchable museum, but a living, breathing bower of light and life. It would forever be the fairgrounds for Margaret’s nightly “baby romps” and theatre for Agnes’ loving readings of Romeo and Juliet. It would form the backdrop in our minds for Maureen’s historic penny swallowing, Eileen’s first birthday and her triumphant maiden voyage up a full flight of stairs. In six weeks time, we had inflated this house with our laughter, sprinkled her with tears, affronted her through tiffs and tantrums, and impressed her with our lofty thoughts. We prayed many a Rosary wrapped in her embrace and transformed her trim gilded gables into steeples for the Domestic Church.

It is the family that finds its own measure of contentment, joy, and sorrow wherever it may be, and I hope the children will come away remembering this new adage: “Be it ever so humble--or extravagant--there’s no place like home."

Comments

[patience]

Alice, you tell the best stories! Your weblog has become a regular delight for me. And I've just discovered your Garden weblog too. Off the subject, I want to ask, if it's not impertinent, do you make your children's lovely clothes? They are so pretty and unique.

[Jennifer]

What a sweet ending. I can see you all having that effect on a house. And I agree with you on small houses.

[Account Deleted]

beautiful and so true. i need to remember this myself as we prepare to move.

oh - and i love the husband talk. i'll have to remeber this in a few years.

[Cheryl]

Alice, this is another awesome post.

[Cheryl M.]

So very sweet, Alice. Your older girls will remember this trip forever. :)

[Casey]

I just found your site recently and love it, but this post is just wonderful. What a treasure to pass on to your children!

[Lynn]

So true Alice! It really is the family that makes the house a home.

BTW, I love your list of what might be a warning sign of an undesirable husband - I'll remember to add 'soup slurping' to my future list for my girls ~laughing~ and I'll probably need to start reminding my boys of this as well :o)

[Beck]

What a beautiful, beautiful post! We live in a rambling, decpreit old place that looks PRETTY haunted, although my kids have never noticed that.
WE're always telling our daughters who not to marry, too! That's funny.

[Jennie C.]

How right you are! We've lived in all sorts of homes, some in better condition that others, none as lovely as the one you are in, but it doesn't matter at all. It's the people inside. My mother-in-law once wondered how I managed to move so much. "Well," I told her, "I take everything I love with me everywhere I go, so home is where ever we all are at the time." I can make a wide variety of household niceties out of empty food boxes and tin foil, too! :-)

[Jane Ramsey]

Alice, you are always a joy to read, whether you make a point or not!
But the point was, as usual, right on the mark (and worth waiting for!)

[Kimberlee]

Hooray! What a lovely, jolly, insightful, hilarious, touching post! So glad your 'Whine Country' has turned into another beautiful Gunther Garden.

[Kristen Laurence]

May I repeat myself for the hundredth time and say how perfectly beautiful this is? The words, the imagery, the insights and the love are all so sweetly intertwined to make for an incredibly inspiring post I will come back to often, just to be inspired again! I love how not one of your words is meaningless or wasted. It is so clear that you and your children make any surrounding, humble or grand, dirty or spotless, into the most glorious of places!

[Laurie M]

so glad to hear you have found/made a temporary Home in California, Home is where the Hearts of the Family are.
Thanks for the comment about Swallows & Amazons. I've never heard of that series and it looks wonderful.

[Meredith]

So true, Alice, beautifully said, as always!! Enjoy your time there!

[Tracy]

Thank you, thank you for this precious post.

[Alicia]

I can't wait to give my boys a talk about things to avoid if they want to marry women like the Gunther girls!

[Theresa]

Nice point!Definitely worth the wait.

[Kristina]

Dear Alice, I keep revisiting this post. Your beautiful words left me feeling quite good about our wee little house.
The "red flags" you mention seem like flip side of Proverbs 31, but in reverse. I love it! This blog is just the loveliest place to visit. Thank you!

[Karen E.]

Perfect and beautiful, Alice!

And, it appears we harp on ... ahem, offer guidance on ... the same things. :-)