I’m an old soul. Always have been. I gravitate towards old things and appreciate a good story. It frustrates me that the walls can’t talk… Why? Because I’d love to know what they have to say! I think I’d sit for awhile and just listen.
So, as a purveyor of all things old, I’ve always felt a little void not knowing the story behind our Rafterhouse bungalow. It’s kind of bugged me and left me with a sense of wonder.
Who built the bungalow? What did they do? Is it really a cistern in the basement? Is that where the drinking water came from? How did they board form all that concrete? Who dug the basement? I bet their arm’s were sore.. Well then who dug the cistern? I bet their arm’s were even more sore. How did they get materials out to the site? Was the concrete mixed with canal water? How did they get it from the canal to the house?
All I knew was that the bungalow was built in 1920… and that was more or less it…
That all changed a few weeks ago due to a chance encounter.
I was returning from a meeting and walking towards the front door when I noticed an older couple walk up from Devonshire (the side street) and begin looking in to our basement windows. We’ve actually had a lot of people walk up and stare in to the windows… (Note: we’re becoming used to it). The older gentleman asked if I lived in the house. Tough to answer since I don’t technically live in the bungalow but as a small business owner I am there enough to practically be deemed residency.. as thoughts ping pong back and forth in my head, I contemplate a response.
“No, but yes” I reply.
Smooth… totally not confusing at all…
“Well, she grew up in this house”, he replies.
Boom! Mind blown.
Enter Jerry and Doris SanFilippo. Two incredibly kind souls eager to see the bungalow. Doris SanFilippo (formerly Speer) spent the 1940’s, 1950’s and a good chunk of the 1960’s growing up in the house. Their stories were amazing and the time spent together was priceless. I felt as if the walls were finally talking and it felt really good. Towards the end of their visit they offered to mail out some early photos of the bungalow. And to their word, not more than two weeks later, a package of old photos and letters arrived. Here is the early story of our bungalow in photos.
And just like that, in one chance encounter and one package in the mail so many questions were answered. I still have a few patchy moments in the history of the home that I need to stitch together. But a little mystery and intrigue never hurt nobody.
I also like this dog. I wonder what his name was?