On 8 February 1938 Howard W. married Irene Mary. In 1944, they moved into their "dream house" (shown left). At first it didn't look like much! But Howard worked tirelessly to refurbish, rebuild, and update the place from top to bottom, inside and out. When this photo was taken, he had still only a vision of the place as it would eventually be.

As shown in this photo on the right, Howard single-handedly replaced the roof, added shingles, and maintained a picture-perfect coat of paint on all the trim and shingles throughout many years of loving care. In the backyard roses, peonies and dandelions were always blooming thanks to Irene's green thumb. Click Here for Mary's Recollections

Howard and Irene raised nine kids at various times in that tiny house. Howard built a huge sand box for playing in the yard, and then replaced it with a swing set embedded in concrete so we didn't rock it to kingdom come! In those days, the early '50s, before the Salk vaccine, we stayed away from public swimming pools for fear of the dreaded polio. Later, mom was just too busy and didn't have the car during the day to bring us to the city pool. So during the Summer heat she would hang a hose from a hook on the side of the sunporch so that it would shower us as we ran around the yard in our swimsuits.

Dad couldn't get the grass to grow with so many kids running around on it, so he covered the yard with tar paper so he could just use a broom.Sometimes mom would let us sleep on the floor in the living room to escape the heat of the un-airconditioned upstairs. The neighborhood was poor. It still is. We didn't know it at the time, but I guess we were poor too. Howard didn't like looking at poor neighbors' homes looking unkept..so he'd shovel or rake or mow all the way down the street for several neighbors. Once he painted the three story home across the street so he could look at it lookin' nice from his front porch!

This is how the front of the house eventually looked...and still does...at least in our heart... None of us go by in person much anymore... we don't need to see it in person... What you can't see is where Howard has all the rooms wallpapered and painted just so. Nor can you smell the wonderful aroma of so many years of Irene doing the best cooking on the planet. What you can't hear is the constant humming of Irene's sewing machine that she used late into so many nights sewing clothes for us since she couldn't afford the ready made clothing for all of us.... But in my memory, I can smell the aromas..and hear the sewing machine..and smell the paint... and hear the saw...and feel the swing...and the sand between my fingers... and now... it seems as if the house shrank just a bit... it seems impossible to think that all eleven of us were here..in this tiny little place... but we were. ...and in our hearts...we still are.