Aside

The Paint Me House: Out of it’s Misery

photo 3 This eye-sore was chock full of eye-soreyness since the day we moved in across the street in 2006. It didn’t have any graffiti on it yet, but it was in horrendous shape. My neighbors who have lived around this neighborhood longer than I could tell me more I’m sure, and I’ve heard bits and pieces as to why the house at 705 was in the shape it was in, but frankly such recent history is none of my business. Whatever the reason it can’t be a happy one.

We begged the city to tear it down in 2011 and 2012 – we had our house on the market and though values on all houses were down, this pile of wood and blocks was not helping. Scrawled on it in white spray paint for the last 7 years was “Paint Me” and “Mom” and “I ❤ Ashley”. And so we all called it “The Paint Me House”. Sounded better than the Mom House or the I Heart Ashley House, I thought.

The family next door to it shared with me last fall it would be torn down in November. I guess things needed more time. And then last week flags started going up. Water line. Gas. Phone line. I was hopeful.

Yesterday the big excavating equipment was brought in. (Need an excavator? Call my sister’s boyfriend!) The kids loved seeing the show. They started away at the porch, then took a dinner break. We left for the evening and when we came back- gone! We missed it. I know I have a good picture of it from a few years ago, but I have to find it.

This morning we got a better look:photo 1 (1)

I’ve done a few posts about the history of my house, and as intriguing as that is for you readers (hardy har har) I decided to do a quick search about the beginning years of the heap of bones of a house across the street. In a way, it’s kind of bittersweet. It lost it’s dignity years ago and if I had grown up in that house and seen it meet it’s end like that, it would make me sad.


 A Brief History of 705 Eastern Avenue. Or affectionately known as The Paint Me House.

My 3 year old house on Banning watched as it was being built in 1923. Soon the Patrick McKay family bought and moved in from their house on Edgehill. Patrick immigrated to the US from Ireland at the turn of the century and made his way from New York to Akron to Ashland. He worked as a pump assembler at the FE Meyers Pump Factory. They lived right next to his wife Rosene Marie’s mother, Rosa Yeagle. They and their young family grew to have four (that I know of) children, Mary, Cecilia, Theresa and Patrick Jr.

I could find 3 of their graduation pictures from the ashlandohiogenealogy.org page.

Image Cecilia graduated in 1939 from Ashland High School.

 ImageTheresa graduated in 1945 from AHS.

ImageAnd Patrick Jr. in 1949.

The McKay’s made a home in that house for more than 3 decades, and watched as their son and youngest child went off to serve as a Corporal in the Korean War. Then in 1959, his father (now in his mid 70’s) died at Samaritan Hospital. Right up the street.  I can’t find much in City Directories online or info after that to see how long Marie stayed in the house.

Image

That was a chapter in someone’s life. It held memories of new babies, school days, war times and losses. No house will stand forever. Miles was worried that would happen to our house, but I assured him we’d never let it go that far down hill while we owned it.

Miles also consoled me when I shared my disappointment with not getting to see the actual demolition of the whole house. “Mommy, don’t worry- they can just build a new house, let it get old and then they’ll do it again! You’ll get to see that one!”

I hope not:) It would actually just be great to have green space there for a while.

See the video: https://vimeo.com/90895267

 (Sources from ancestry.com: Census records from 1930, 1940, Ashland City Directories from 1919-1959, the Ashland County Auditors website, and the Ashland County Chapter of the Ohio Genealogical Society’s webpage.)

 

Aside

The Tornado Watch Leap Day Baby

Four years, eight months and six days ago I delivered a child that today would tell me “Mom, these pancakes are awful. Can you make good pancakes next time?” Which is weird because I make the same kind of pancake every time I decide I will offer my children something more than a banana and a fruit bar for breakfast. The honesty of children. I’ll accept it for now, but made sure to tell him his comments were rude. Normally I’m spoiled because even if it’s the simplest of meals, my thoughtful Miles will usually say, “MMM Mommy this is DELICIOUS! This is the best thing I ever had!” He especially likes the Spagettios I pry from an aluminum can.

Two years ago, somewhere in between today and tomorrow, a big little leap day baby came into our lives during a tornado watch and low 50s temps. “The Winter That Wasn’t” is what some called it- big contrast to this year’s winter! So, you see, fellow Ohioans, this winter is just making up for the past two very mild winters. I have a sneaking suspicion we will be even more appreciative of the spring that is just around the corner. Anyhow, that little tornado that was born was a little red-head named Clementine and we went from looking like this:420245_10100212133475218_1302917321_n 424877_10100232983187228_909202118_n

to this:sdc10596And then she wrapped her daddy around her little finger,

423224_10100242590359378_99649995_nand we fell in love with the little chunker.

405076_10100350382532998_1003645752_n

1017686_10100898244203818_114676218_n 62405_10100909434972428_1053733356_nHappy Birthday, Clementine LaRue! God gave us a wonderful gift in you!