By Russ Meyer, Nebraska Home Sales Associate Broker
About a hundred years ago men came with their shovels and picks and started digging a hole in the ground. They laid out the lines, setting stakes in the ground as guides, carving out what would be my cellar from the prairie soil. My foundation was set straight and true to carry the load, and then the framers came and started me going skyward—Ohh what joy, two and a half stories up into the blue Nebraska sky!\
The work on me continued for many months thru the spring rains and the hot summer sun. Carpenters took great care to make me look good and trim; corbels, crown molding, wainscoting, pocket doors and the like. My windows were my eyes to the streetscape. The electrician came to wire me up, I was so excited—I glowed from within!
Perhaps the most exciting part was when my first family moved in. The family with two kids, a pet dog and so many friends came to live inside my walls. I gave them shelter, a place of rest and comfort from the elements. In return they took care of me, fixing my leaky pipes and drafty front door, patching holes in the walls from rambunctious kids. I loved every minute of it. I was built for this.
Alas, time marches forward. The family moved out. I’ve had a few families since then, each with their own stories—exciting times and the tragedies of life.
Now there is a sign in the yard that says ‘For Sale’ again, placed there by a REALTOR®. My friend across the street, a big Victorian, keeps telling me that ‘Getting old ain’t for sissies’. Revelation! I may be an old house now but I am not dead yet—far from it. I have a few wobbles in my floor and my front door may never shut right, but I got a lot of life left in me.
I’m ready for my next charge, my next humans to take care of. If you’re interested in taking care of me, renewing me, I’ve got the swill, you bring the swagger, and we will have a grand old time dancing in the ballroom. A house party, if you will.