Era Ends as Old House Is Sold

By CHARLES M. GUTHRIE
of the editorial page staff
published by the StarTribune
November 17, 1962


IT HAD to happen sometime--and it's happened. The old house close by the river that's been the clan's unofficial headquarters for a quarter of a century has been sold and it makes us sad. When the last lingering resident reluctantly took his leave and the "For Sale"sign went up, it meant the end of an era.
  A good era it was, too, an era of reunions, laughs, picnics on a lawn that stretched generously out back. Children frolicked there, as their children did years later. There were baseball, croquet and badminton games--and contentment of soul.

   BUT THE PLACE became too big, as houses do when children grow up and depart and the old die or become enfeebled. No matter what the sentimental pull, a two-story house with three spacious bedrooms is an unrelenting taskmaster, too much for a fellow with gimpy heart and poor eyesight.
   So old Jack has taken his leave. His three daughters came to divide the furniture and keep, discard or give away the myriad things a house has a way of gathering unto itself through the years.
   Then, old Jack, resolutely not looking back, rode off to Milwaukee to begin the final chapter.

   WE'D SEEN it coming for two years, ever since Blanche, the gracious lady of the manor, died. More than anyone else in the family, she gave the place character, serenity and spontaneous, unfailing hospitality. She could always be depended on--and she was depended on too much. She knew little leisure and little luxury, this sister-in-law of mine, but she gave unstintingly, readily and gladly and was quick with kindness and appreciation.
   "Let's drive over to see Blanche and Jack," I would say--or my wife would say--a couple of tines a week. We knew their greeting could be no warmer had we not seen them for six months, that coffee would be put on, that we'd have a few rubbers of bridge, and wind up the evening with cake and ice cream while Jack and I talked baseball.

   ONE IS fortunate to have such relatives and this truth knifes us increasingly now. When Jack was still around the old house, we subconsciously felt Blanche's rewarding presence, too, and were soothed by echoes and memories of days when we were younger and had more than we knew.
   I hated to see old Jack leave town. It was downright comforting to be around him. I've always felt that he was on my side, even though he's often told me we should feel no bond of kinship.
   "We really aren't related, you know," he'd grin. "You actually aren't my brother-in-law. We merely married sisters."

Copyright 2016 StarTribune. Republished here with the permission of the StarTribune. No further republication or redistribution is permitted without the express approval of the StarTribune.