Hello Fellow Tellurians!

No need to worry, it’s just another word for Earthlings. Vocabulary is all, after all.  😉

This is where I grew up in Red Wing. I’d say this photo is about 1956. The house was yellow, had a front screened in porch where my dad kept tabs on the neighborhood and a back porch where my mom hung the grape bag so it could drip clear juice for her wonderful jelly. It also had a front and back stairway, and was fitted for gas lights. Built in 1905, the same year my dad was born, it had double lath, or two walls on the outside.  Whatever cents they saved with that building feature was squandered with the tall windows that made lightning seem upfront and personal.  There was a full attic where bats lived and where my mom could save everything, being that she grew up in the Depression.  I did not learn how to get rid of things at home.

This may have been about the time that my parents found a house in Winona that was painted a red color that they liked.  And, counter to their personalities, they went up to the door of that house, knocked, and asked what the name of the color was.  Shortly afterward, they bought the paint and Dad painted the house “Colonial Red” by Pittsburgh Paints.

This is the color of the house that my friends and I remember best. It was a distinctive dark red, but not maroon.  And it continued to be red until the early 1970’s when they had the house sided white. Mom knew what a traditionalist I was at the time; she assured me that the red house was still there underneath the white siding!

But the story here was that shortly after the house was painted by Dad which was no small feat since he didn’t like heights and look at the altitude of those attic windows, Pittsburgh Paints discontinued carrying the paint color.

Now, look at that house.  It took a lot of paint! So began my parents’   hunt for any and all remaining cans no matter the size of “Colonial Red” by Pittsburgh Paints.

Keep in mind this is before EBay, Craigslist, Google and the Internet. Searching was done  in person. They had checked all the dealers in Red Wing.  To call the dealers in the Twin Cities was a long distance call, therefore, not done.

We drove to California in the summer of 1959 so that Dad could attend the NEA convention in Los Angeles.  As the incoming president of the RWEA, he had an obligation to represent the educators of Red Wing.

All five of us piled into that car and we camped our way to CA and back. My sister and brother were 15 and 17 respectively; I was 6.  Four big people and a little person.  Luggage, camping gear, sleeping bags, and cans of “Colonial Red” paint that we found along the way.

Yep. Points were given to the individual who spotted the Pittsburgh Paints store in every town we passed. It didn’t matter what quantity we found, quart, gallon, pint, we took it all. We had a big house to keep painting red!

And the paint we found kept my dad painting a side a summer for another 13 years when they  decided to side the house.

I remember learning the name of that paint color and thinking that it was exotic because it had four syllables!!! Well, it was exotic to a 4-5 year old! I remember rolling the word off my tongue like it was a foreign language. It had no meaning, only syllables. Now when I say the word my mind conjurs up Williamsburg and women in long drab dresses with aprons and white caps. Exotic is about as far away as it can get!

Back to the house. It was a great place to be a kid: nooks and crannies, a back staircase, and a room I didn’t have to share with anyone!

The room was too small for there to be a door on the closet. Instead there was a floor to ceiling soft white muslin drape over the opening. And not two panels, just one!

There were no outlets in this room either. There was a crookneck light fixture with a bare light bulb that could be switched out for an outlet plug.  It did have a door, but unless I had Dickie the parakeet flying around for exercise, the door was never shut.

I think my room, named the “back bedroom” would have been the maid’s room, being right next to the back stairway that led to the kitchen.

But the best thing about this bedroom was the two tall nearly floor to ceiling windows that let in the best breeze from the north.  From my windows I could watch trains come and go, traffic on Main Street, and boats on the river. My parents also used to watch the fireworks from there when they were too tired to attend the festivities at Colvill Park.  They would gather there in later years on Halloween because it was in the back of the house. Then, the front of the house would be dark and the trick or treaters would know there were no treats to be had there. Oh, and long after I moved into my brother’s room, my dad would take his afternoon nap there, toothpick still in his mouth, hanky over his eyes. That room had the best breeze in the summer.

When I was very little, the wall paper in that room had nursery characters on it.  For some reason which I could never fathom, my mom changed the wallpaper to very adult yellow flowers. I was still taking naps so it was before I was four.  I hated that very adult yellow flower wall paper.  I used to take my fingernail and make little fingernail slits in the corner by my bed. Such a rebel.

Coloring Party tomorrow! Even though the rain was needed, I hope it’s done by afternoon. It’s so nice to color outside on the damn patio with friends!

Have a terrific Tuesday and and even wackier Wednesday!

Love,

Janet