I thought I would write today the story of the building of my first home.
At the ripe old age of 20 I undertook the hands-on construction of my first house. It’s a great story and it all turned out well, a wonderful place it was.
But, that’s a story for another day.
You see, last night as I was trying to get to sleep I realized that that house was not my first hands-on build, in fact I had built quite a few homes before that.
So, let me lay it out there for the world to hear… my first owner built home was a cardboard box.
There, I said it.
I know what you are thinking, and no, I was not a homeless child. I lived in a fine little brick rancher, provided by loving parents, in Finer Suburbia. We had the good fortune of living two blocks off of Broad Street where strips of businesses and shops were located, one of them being a furniture store.
Out back of Hawkes Furniture, just a quick bicycle ride away from home, was a cage of sorts, built out of chain link fencing where they would toss the large boxes that their newly made chairs and sofas came packaged in.
This cage was built so that any young man could easily climb over into it (after business hours of course). Now it’s not like I was stealing these boxes mind you, I had after all gotten permission to take all the boxes I wanted… it just felt cooler somehow acquiring them under the illusion of a covert operation.
Some time I could get my Dad to haul them home in his car, sometime I dragged and rolled them home myself, and on one occasion I tried dragging one home with my bike… that one didn’t work out very well, but it did earn me some respect in the neighborhood. “Did you see what that Bradley boy did today?”
There were different kinds of boxes to choose from… chair boxes are great, plenty of room for a young bachelor to hang out in, but if you are expecting guests you really need to have a sofa box. I would cut in a door opening making sure to leave one side intact so that it would hinge, and do the same with windows.
I always found boxes lasted longer inside although my mother’s patience with the intrusion into her living space was limited.
It wasn’t long before other kids in the neighborhood starting joining in on the habitat box craze, and so a box shortage loomed. We made the best of limited resources by trying to “one up” each other with features such as crayoned fireplaces and cuckoo clocks on the wall. Maybe even a pitched roof or add-on chimney. My favorite box was when I managed to score a pile of carpet samples that had been tossed out… hey it was the 60’s and wall-to-wall carpet was the thing to have!
Now, looking back over all the years that have since passed, I see those boxes as formative in my life. I enjoyed the challenge, the process, and the finished result. I learned the value of a homeowner playing a role in the construction of their home.
Decades ago it turns out that I was an accidental trend setter, I was building green, I was building small… tiny in fact. And even mobile, although perhaps not best when pulled behind a bike.
So, I encourage you all to get a box and have some fun!
Noah
Originally posted 2015-01-15 18:43:00.