During the summer of 1949 Dad and Uncle Woody worked on our new home. It was up the road about a half-mile from gram and grandpa’s farm in what used to be known as the Intervale post office. They worked all summer long turning one large room with a porch on three sides into a small five room home with a massive field stone fireplace in the living room.

Us kids, as we called ourselves, would walk up the road to help, but mostly we played in the wonderful, fun filled brook that flowed behind our soon to be new home. It had rocks of all sizes, big rocks to climb on, flat rocks to sit on, little rocks to skip across the water and rocks to pile high to dam up the stream to make deep pools for swimming. We fished for trout, caught frogs and swam throughout that long glorious summer.

Moving day came late in the fall, us kids, being an independent bunch, moved ourselves. We loaded up our trusty red wagon with our treasures. Us girls packed our hairless Christmas dolls, who barely made it to New Year with their hair intact. Brother Doug had an aversion to dolls with hair and yanked the wigs off to expose several staples on the bald heads; they were still treasures to us and were lovingly placed in the wagon. Nestled next to the dolls was a piggy bank which jingled with several hard earned pennies. A few doll clothes and little pieces of carefully folded blankets were placed in and around our treasures. And perched on top was little baby Hunky. Rita and Donna pulled the little red wagon while Doug and I pushed, sometimes we would hop on for a ride until one of the girls would yell at us “get off!”

Several times Grandpa and Dad rattled by us, in the old blue truck, as they moved the other household goods to our new home up the road.

We were all settled in by Christmas, we hauled in a big fir tree and gleefully decorated it with a few glass balls, popcorn and paper chains. Our stockings were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that St Nicholas would find us this year.

Our new home seemed huge to us after living in two rooms at the farm. Us girls had a room of our own, the boys shared another room and mom and dad had a bedroom with a door

The fireplace was massive as it took up one wall in the living room and was meant to help keep us warm along with the kitchen cook stove but soon proved to be a hazard to our health. The chimney was wide and unhindered by a damper, so when mom started a fire with kindling and cardboard it would often result in a tremendous roar as the contents of the fire box swooshed up the chimney, catching the sides afire on its escape to the outside. Soon the screaming would start as we rushed out the door pushing and shoving to witness the sparks leaping into the air and landing on the snow covered roof. No one went so far as to call the fire department, we didn’t have a telephone, but the neighbors didn’t bother either because it was a common occurrence that first winter in our new home.