The Brick Lady

     
   I’m losing a family member today. Not one to be commemorated with a funeral but a member none the less. We are selling my mother’s house, my childhood homeplace, that has been a part of my memory for over 60 years.

        For years she has served as a protector of my family. First, she stood out in the middle of nowhere on a quiet dead-end Roe Chandler Road, but as of late she has been a beacon marking the entrance to Clay on Deerfoot Parkway. 

        Oh, the stories that brick lady could tell.  She knows about me falling into the space during construction. She has seen death, and birthday parties, New Year’s Eve celebrations and family reunions.  She doesn’t look to well today but, in the past, she was Queen of all the houses when she became the first full-brick home in Clay.

          The Brick Lady came into being in 1955. She sat in a clear field just south of the homeplace of my Mama Evelyn and my Grandfather Roe Chandler, Sr. She was strategically structured on my mother’s acre with a full acre between my mom and grandmother. That acre was designed to give me a place for my future home when I got ready to build. That never happened but I was fortunate enough to raise my boys in Clay. They loved the Brick Lady as much as I did.

          I’m not sure who designed her, but I do know a choice was made to make her all brick and give her a hip roof, two qualities that proved beneficial from a maintenance standpoint. She had steel cased windows which never rotted, but no one knew they would rust as bad as they did.

         My family loved to tell a story that happened during construction. Evidently, we had walked over for a daily inspection when I was about 18 months old. I had gotten ahead of the group and started up the stairs on the front porch. I must have walked too close to the edge of the steps because I slipped in to the 8-inch gap between the steps and the wall and got stuck.  I would surely have been an internet sensation today because my story was an oral legend that was retold at many family gatherings. 

         I learned today that my grandad dug the footing for the house with a pick ax and a shovel. This also included a one room cellar. My Great Uncle Frank, my grandmother’s brother, framed the house. He was an excellent carpenter. He had fought in the Pacific in World War II where he contracted some tropical disease during his stay, but he overcame his illnesses. He appeared frail because he was so underweight but somewhere in that frame was hidden muscle. My daddy used to tell about how Uncle Frank would pull himself up when they were building the rafters without the aid of a ladder.

       My dad learned many skills of the trade while working on the Brick Lady with Uncle Frank. They laid the subflooring with diagonally cut planks since there was no plywood available. The tongue and groove oak flooring was then cut by hand and hammered in place.  To the very end the hardwoods in my mother’s house never squeaked…not even a sound.

         Looking at her huge oak trees, it hard to imaging that the Brick Lady once stood in an open field. There was no brush, no trees, no privet hedge and no kudzu. I remember inquiring about the small patch of vines that grew in a pine tree across the road.  That was my first introduction to the strange foreign plant that would eventually take over parts of the South.

       The only tree on the entire acre was a mimosa in the back yard. The oaks were planted by my dad when my brother and I split the mimosa while trying to climb and play in her delicate branches. Daddy dug up the oaks and replanted them in the front and back of the house.  He nurtured and watered then with a determination to make them grow. I remember he placed a coffee can in the ground beside the saplings so that he could water their roots. They must have been planted in some great soil because they became some of the most beautiful oaks in this part of the county. The one on the acre in between daddy planted for me and my future homeplace.

       The Brick Lady saw many firsts in her time. She saw my brother scoot across the floor in an odd seated position. Levi didn’t walk until 15 months but he managed to manipulate his way with a unique method of travel. He would sit with his legs bent and his back straight. By pulling his legs toward his body he was able to “scoot” sitting up. The Brick Lady saw him take his first step by the mahogany coffee table in the living room.

        She must have been happy to see us upgrade to central heat and air because that huge floor furnace was an eyesore. Not only did the grate get hot to the touch, but we sometimes misjudged on the amount of butane left in the tank and lost our source for heat. Natural gas was not available for many years to come.  One benefit of the floor furnace was the fact that it could dry a load of laundry overnight. We just placed the clothes on the foldable wooden clothes rack and centered it over the grid.

         We left the Brick Lady for a few years in 1963. Daddy got a job in Huntsville and we relocated there for 3 years. The Brick Lady welcomed a new family who rented her for the time we were gone.  She must have been sad when the matron of the family fell ill and passed away in one of her bedrooms.

      We returned to the Brick Lady in 1967 when mother and daddy divorced. She welcomed us still the same, but times were different now. She must have winced when I painted my room that hideous shade of purple and hung posters of Jimi Hendrix, the Monkees, and Herman’s Hermits on her walls.

       My old bedroom now served as a den since we needed space for greeting our peers. Mother slept on a sofa in the den so that Levi and I could have our own bedrooms.  I wonder what the Brick Lady thought when she saw me come home from my first date and get my official first kiss?

         My friends all loved to hang out with the Brick Lady. I loved music and we had a huge stereo that played many a tune at full volume. I was one of the few teenagers with a single mom who made my friends feel at home, so the Brick Lady saw many parties and fun times with teens. We never drank or smoked pot, we just had fun laughing and talking, eating, and playing music.

        Occasionally Mother would invite adults over to the Brick Lady. I would stay in my room while she entertained. On one occasion, some of my friends stopped by but were cautious about coming to the door because of the adults in the living room. So, the Brick Lady and I invited them in through my bedroom window. 

        If she could I am sure the Brick Lady would identify the thieves who broke in and stole what little valuables we had. I remember losing my jewelry and a coveted coin collection my dad had given me.  One burglary took place just hours before a scheduled trip to Atlanta. I was excited about bringing a sorority sister home to visit briefly before we continued on to my dad’s apartment in Atlanta. We had planned an adventurous weekend trip for Sue who was visiting from Utah. We unlocked the front door and found a ransacked room that had been looted and practically destroyed. My brother stayed back to talk with police and we headed on our way.

       The Brick Lady probably snickered a bit when I tried to chase the bandits who had rolled my yard. Little did I know they had tied the garden hose to the bumper of my VW bug. I didn’t catch them but I managed to stretch the hose to three times its original length. She had to also know the names of the thugs who bottle capped my yard and then came back the next night and spread the contents of the cans containing the cleaned-up waste. She probably laughed the time the paper rollers came eyeball to eyeball with Mable and Lamby, the sheep we housed temporarily in the back yard. The Brick Lady witnessed the run-away horse that carried Nancy to Clay school and Bandit who opened the back door with his teeth and entered into the kitchen with his front two hooves.

      She probably saw what was coming when Joe washed his car in the back yard and drove over the mimosa stump left from the split. I’m sure she would have warned him about getting stuck if she could have. She was probably relieved when Mr. Vann came to the rescue with his tow truck.

      I bet she was sad when I left for college and the rooms were quiet; then, happy again when my boys brought new noises and laughter to the stillness. They loved to explore her secret spaces and find hidden treasures like anatomically correct frogs and Texas mosquitoes made from tumbleweeds. Nana was a packrat so there were new discoveries to be made with each trip to the Brick Lady.

     Those were the happy years for the Brick Lady with laughter, music, and youthful chatter. But things do change and so did the Brick Lady. My mother found herself unable to keep house anymore. She had to move to where someone could help her. She needed assisted living that the Brick Lady could not provide. So, the Brick Lady found her rooms quiet and her evenings dark. She was disappointed that no one came to see her or play in her halls or climb in her trees.  She realized things were not good when no one mowed her grass or cleaned her floors.  She recognized her time was short when the sign in her yard said “Sold.”  She knew.

      So, the time has come to say good bye to the Brick Lady. Too long she has sat vacant and unappreciated, hoping to be revived and put to use once again. Her shrubbery is overgrown and her gutters are beginning to fall, but still no leaks inside for the strong lady, no bats in her attic, or mice in her cellar. She has served well. She has fulfilled her duty. She has stood strong. But as with all thing, it is her time to rest. You will be missed, but your memories will live on. I love you, red Brick Lady!