The house on Albert St. was comfortable, handy to work and affordable. We had agreeable neighbors who were helpful when needed and pleasant to visit. The problem was that my family was growing so fast. Once the two boys and their little sister were put to bed there was little room for an overnight guest, usually their granny who was obliged to spend the night on special occasions such as Christmas Eve. It was good we had a couch.

There were memories attached to the place besides the wheezing sound of the locomotive we called Squeaky Wheels. There was the shock I received the evening I came home to hear on the radio that even as I traveled, a tornado had sneaked into town, rambled up Market Street, turned north and left via Cole Street while cutting a path of destruction. I recall being alarmed at hearing our neighbor tell Mary that she fell off the roof. Juanita didn’t look the worse for wear and I was relieved to learn that she had only started her menstrual cycle. I shall never forget the late nights when I filed the ring off my injured and swollen finger, or when Mary and I put cold, wet towels on a naked baby to bring her fever down to a livable level. I have many other memories not so traumatic but they might seem mundane.

There seemed to be only a few houses available at the time and fewer still that I could afford. We had seen new houses being built around town and took note of the builders’ names. Most of the houses going up were meant for young families.

“Let’s go see Henry Cardone,” Mary said, “I’ve heard a lot about him.”

“Anything good?” I asked.

“I think he has a good reputation,” she said. I’ll make an appointment to talk to him.”

“I build only one style of house right now,” said Henry, “That’s how I can keep the price down. There are a lot of young folks who need them. Would you like to look at one?”

“Let’s go see one,” I said, and we were soon on a tour of his prototype.

It was a single story, two- bedroom bungalow style house with a floored, unfinished attic. [Oh oh. Work ahead!] The living room and the kitchen- dining area occupied the front of the house, while the bedrooms were in back with the bathroom in between.

“I have one under construction on Glenwood Ave. that will be available soon,” said Henry. “You can go there and check out the neighborhood if you wish. If you don’t like it there I can show you another location. And by the way, all my houses come with a full basement.”

“Looks like a pretty nice house. It should be big enough for the family for a few years after you finish the attic rooms,” said Mary, looking at me.

“Yeah,” I gulped. “how much will this cost?”

“My price is $10,000,” said Henry. “You’re a veteran, so I can get you a GI loan at 4% interest.”

“Thank you, we’ll be in touch,” I said and headed for Glenwood Ave. to check out the neighborhood. It was a nice looking street with an old house or two and several newer houses. There were a few vacant lots where I was sure there would be new houses pretty soon. The location near the edge of town was convenient to our needs and only a ten-minute drive from my workplace.

“’What do you think,” I asked Mary as we stared at the hole in the ground.

“The neighborhood seems good but I could tell more about it if there were a house there,” said Mary.

“Right,” I said, “but what bothers me is that it will cost three months pay just for the down payment and we’ll need a new stove and refrigerator.”

“We’ve got some money in a savings account. Maybe Mom can lend us a little,” Mary offered.

“Umm, I hate to ask, and besides don’t forget the new baby that’s coming,” I said.

“How can I forget that?” she said, rubbing her aching back.

We discussed the matter to the exclusion of most everything else for the next few days and finally decided to take the plunge. We somehow scraped a down payment together and expected to move into a new home in early December. Meantime I found myself stopping by the construction to see how it was progressing. By Thanksgiving I was getting anxious, for there was much work to be done. On one such day I found the windows fogged up so that they had become just part of the walls. I was sure that the place would never be livable, until I realized that the plastering had just been finished. It did eventually dry out. The painting was done, the hardwood floors laid and finish work was finally completed. December had passed and like most projects of its kind, it was tardy. We celebrated a birthday for the last time at our old place and moved into our new house as soon as our kitchen appliances were delivered on Groundhog Day, 1952. 

It was a nice looking house, finished in gray cedar shakes and having a picture window at the left of the entrance stoop and a smaller one at the right. A cement walk led to the gravel driveway at the right side of the house. Yet it looked forlorn, for the lawn was bare of any sign of grass, but February chill transformed the mud to solid ground. Oh well, spring would soon return the mud and the chore of sowing seeds for a lawn.

Before we really got settled into our new house our family increased by one. Two weeks after we took possession of our new house we brought home our second daughter. Now we were ready to start a new home. What better for a house warming?