Sheltering a Family's Dreams
by Jon Remmerde

When we took care of a hay and cattle ranch in northeastern Oregon, started our home schooling, and continued there for eight and a half years, we four lived in a small, old, ramshackle house. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were one, and large, eleven feet by thirty-one feet, for such a small house. We had a sink, a pitcher pump, a wood-fired cookstove, table and chairs, and cabinets in the kitchen area.

The heater for the living room backed up to the cookstove. The girls' desks were in the living room, along with bookcases, boxes of manuscripts, drawings, and other creations, hanging jackets, two chairs, and miscellaneous.

We were forty-five degrees north, and only the back room was insulated, so we used the living room, with east and north windows, more in summer than we did in winter.

My writing table was in the back room, with my filing cabinet, shelves for some of everyone?ís writing and art supplies, the bed Laura and I slept in, which was also used as a reading center, work surface, and conference area. There was a heater in the back room, Laura’s writing table, and two to four chairs, depending; two night stands; and wood for the stove. Eleven feet, four inches, by fifteen feet, two inches.

The girls’ bedroom was in between, with two beds, two drawer chests, and forty square feet of open floor.

No television. We scattered out or gathered together. Juniper had been working on a drawing, twenty-nine by thirty-eight inches, at times. She drew at the kitchen table. When she wasn’t drawing, her drawing-in-progress was on the large beanbag cushion on the kitchen floor, or on one of the beds. The cushion on the kitchen floor was for jumping over or onto, for resting, for a place to put large drawings or other items that needed somewhere to be.

When I rebuilt and insulated the back room, I made a large doorway into the girls’ room. In the doorway, there was access to the ends of the shelves that divided the two rooms. They formed a ladder into the attic and were also used for climbing up and jumping off. The large doorway lined up with the kitchen doorway, so the girls could achieve speed before they leapt off the higher floor of their room into the back room.

Winter weather was severe there. It didn’t encourage a lot of outdoor activity, even with good winter clothes, so we didn’t discourage strenuous activity indoors, nor the noise that goes with it. I don’t recall this conversation, but Amanda says she heard a friend ask how I could concentrate enough to write while the girls were playing around me. She says I answered that their playing didn’t bother me as long as they took all the corrals and toy animals off my lap when I wanted to stand up, and moved them off my chair when I was ready to sit down again.

When I wasn’t using my writing table, anyone else could use it. My writing board placed over my manuscripts kept our materials divided. My typewriter was our typewriter.

We cooperated. On our coldest nights, I stayed up most of the night, writing and keeping the heaters fueled, then slept late. Laura got up soon after I went to bed, did exercises by the bed and studied by the lamps on my writing table. She knew I was a light sleeper, so she did these things quietly. Sometimes the girls played games among many toys on the floor by the bed in the morning. They enjoyed what they could do while quiet for quite some time. Sometimes they read. They had school, with Laura as their teacher, in the kitchen after the cookstove warmed the area.

In winter, we all used the back room more than other rooms. Big south windows let in good light and heat from the sun. After dark, it was the easiest room in which to place kerosene lamps so that everyone had good light for reading, though food projects, art, building, writing, and reading often went on in the kitchen evenings, with lamps on the kitchen table.

Juniper drew. Amanda built a magazine on the other end of the kitchen table. The drawing could move, but all the magazine materials would be hard to move without upsetting the careful order of Amanda’s work. We ate around, in spots we opened up on the table, or from plates on our laps.

To some, our house appeared to be messy and disorderly. We briefly experimented, intending to achieve a more orderly appearance. We decided we would pick up all projects and put them away by the end of the day. It didn’t work, so it didn’t last. It interrupted the orderly continuity of a project to have to gather all the materials and put them away and then get them out again the next morning.

We decided that our definitions of orderly and disorderly were wrong. If a work area in the house progressed toward order, not in the appearance of the area, but in that the work in the area would achieve a desired goal, then that work area was orderly. Any appearance of disorder was in the perspective of the viewer.

As our definitions of orderly and disorderly changed with our awareness that function is more important than appearance, so we saw that our small house was large in the way it sheltered our family and nurtured our projects, talents, and dreams. I was a light sleeper, so she did these things quietly. Sometimes the girls played games among many toys on the floor by the bed in the morning. They enjoyed what they could do while quiet for quite some time. Sometimes they read. They had school, with Laura as their teacher, in the kitchen after the cookstove warmed the area.

In winter, we all used the back room more than other rooms. Big south windows let in good light and heat from the sun. After dark, it was the easiest room in which to place kerosene lamps so that everyone had good light for reading, though food projects, art, building, writing, and reading often went on in the kitchen evenings, with lamps on the kitchen table.

Juniper drew. Amanda built a magazine on the other end of the kitchen table. The drawing could move, but all the magazine materials would be hard to move without upsetting the careful order of Amanda’s work. We ate around, in spots we opened up on the table, or from plates on our laps.

To some, our house appeared to be messy and disorderly. We briefly experimented, intending to achieve a more orderly appearance. We decided we would pick up all projects and put them away by the end of the day. It didn’t work, so it didn’t last. It interrupted the orderly continuity of a project to have to gather all the materials and put them away and then get them out again the next morning.

We decided that our definitions of orderly and disorderly were wrong. If a work area in the house progressed toward order, not in the appearance of the area, but in that the work in the area would achieve a desired goal, then that work area was orderly. Any appearance of disorder was in the perspective of the viewer.

As our definitions of orderly and disorderly changed with our awareness that function is more important than appearance, so we saw that our small house was large in the way it sheltered our family and nurtured our projects, talents, and dreams.

About the author:
Jon has published work in Back Home, Bellowing Ark, Bugle, The Christian Science Monitor, The Crab Creek Review, The Denver Post, The Doula, The Fiddlehead, Men's Fitness, and other magazines and newspapers. He has published five books. Visit:
http://www.remmerde.com