This week, since it was Easter vacation, I asked the little red if she wanted to go up to visit Aunt Peggy, Uncle Ray and cousin Joe. And on the way back we could stop and see the house that my Dad had built with his stepdad, back in 1945. Before they built the house they had lived in a tiny trailer and a tent. This was in California up near Mariposa. Life was tough back then. People were poor and didn't have very much. Grandpa Mac had discovered Grandma Ruth living underneath a tree in an orchard, with her four young children. Grandpa Roy had been thrown in prison for some such thing like writing bad checks. Grandpa Mac began visiting Grandma Ruth and giving her money and/or food to help with the kids. Eventually Grandma Ruth divorced Grandpa Roy and married Grandpa Mac. I don't know if that was really what happened, but that's the story that got passed down to us.

The little red was excited to see the house that her granddad had built when he was just a teen. He had always said that the house was so small that he didn't get to live inside. He had to live in a tent out in the back. It always amazed me that he didn't seem bitter about the injustice of it but instead made it seem like a grand adventure.

Anyways, after visiting with aunt Peggy and gleaning more tidbits of information about her growing up years in Catheys Valley, we set off to find the house. We found it easily, nestled within the green spring grasses and underneath the old oak trees. The little red was hesisitant to go up to the front door but I marched straight up there boldly. After all, my dad built that house and nothing was going to keep me from it. Nobody was home and since I'm not a criminal I didn't break in but instead satisfied myself with taking a few pictures. I can't explain how wonderful it is to find physical evidence for stories that my dad used to tell me. I saw that the house is feeling a little worse for wear. Whoever lives there has had a baby within the last year and perhaps there has been some sort of domestic violence because one of the front windows is broken, with only a piece of cardboard taped up to block the cold air from coming in. I feel a bit sad that maybe whoever lives there isn't completely happy. The house meant so much for my family back when they first built it. My grandma always said that she had been the happiest in her life living there.

It was so neat to be able to share that house and that area with my daughter. She never got to meet my dad but she did get see something that he was so proud of building. Here is a picture of the little red with the house.