Through the generations, one home fits all

By Paige Spawn Pierle

My grandmother’s wedding gown was designed like the one worn by Elizabeth Taylor. A sequence of gems wove through her long lace sleeves. A satin collar covered the base of her neck then turned to lace, which met more satin on her heart-shaped bodice. Layers of lace and satin skirts poured out from her waist to the floor and shaped into her cathedral-length train.

After her wedding, my grandmother passed her gown to her sister who wore it with a different veil. It was then given to my grandmother’s sister-in-law, who cut off the train. She passed it to her sister, who cut off the lace top. One dress fit all.

My husband’s grandparents made a similar investment when they purchased their house 60 years ago. Like my grandmother’s wedding gown, their house survived many alterations and was home to several relatives—the most current being my husband, Joe, and myself. One home fits all.

When owned by Joe’s grandparents, white wooden siding covered the exterior and yellow trim bordered the windows that complemented the yellow door. My mother-in-law grew up here, sleeping in the back bedroom while her parents slept in what is now our dining room.

The house grew with them. A few months before she got married, her father converted one side of the attic into her bedroom. He paneled the walls and covered the floor with yellow carpet. Her parents then slept in the back bedroom and converted their old room into a dining room.

When Joe was born, this house was his other home. His grandparents babysat him while his parents worked. He caught the school bus from this house and returned here after school. Joe played outside while his grandfather watered the chives and squash growing in his garden. His grandmother fed him snacks and tended to her two circles of plants—one with hyacinths and the other with tiger lilies.

Joe’s grandparents passed away when he was in college. Joe and his father gave the house the attention that Joe’s grandfather was not able to in his later years. Walking through the rooms they saw floors to sand, walls to paint, and rooms to gut.

Insulated double-pane windows replaced single-pane windows that had attachable storms and screens. The kitchen metal cabinets, enamel countertop, and linoleum floor were torn out as wood cabinets and a laminated countertop and floor took their place. Joe and his father installed new Sheetrock in the bathroom as well as a new shower, sink, and floor.

The house was ready for Joe and his friend to live in while they attended college. Joe’s denim couch replaced his grandma’s floral couch. His computer desk replaced her vanity in the back bedroom.

After a few months, Joe’s other grandmother got sick and could no longer climb the stairs in her three-story house. My father-in-law wanted his mother closer to him. My husband then moved back in with his parents so his grandma could move out of the city and into Guilderland.

Plush beige carpets now covered the hardwood floors, to his grandma’s favor. Sunlight shone through her mauve curtains, giving the rooms a rosy hue. My father-in-law hung her large mirror in the dining room. Her plastic-covered couch replaced Joe’s denim couch and her mahogany bedroom set replaced his computer desk. Yet, after half a year, her health declined further. She ended up moving into a nursing home.

At this point, Joe and I were engaged. His parents replaced the wood siding with silver vinyl. Burgundy shutters guarded the sides of the windows. My father-in-law converted the second attic room into our bedroom, covering the walls with Sheetrock and building us a closet. My husband painted the walls cream and blue. The concrete step on the side of the house was chiseled down to make room for a covered wooden porch.

We moved in this house when we got married. We planted a flower garden under the front windows, adding a deep red rose bush to match the burgundy shutters. We cleared out the brush in the backyard, which was once his grandfather’s garden. We dug up his chives and planted them in our new garden, on the side of the house.

The circle of tiger lilies from his grandmother still grows—yet her circle of hyacinths is now buried beneath our new concrete patio. We transplanted some of those plants around the border of our house.

We sit on the denim couch from Joe’s time in college. His computer desk is set up in the back room. The rooms are still rosy, as the sun shines through the mauve curtains from his other grandmother. Her mirror still hangs in our dining room.

This summer, we want to plant trees along the border of our backyard. In years to come, we will need to rearrange our computers, books, and closets to make room for cribs and toys. Our home will then be home to a fourth generation—our future children. It will grow with them as it did for Joe’s grandparents and as it is growing with us.

One home fits all.