There’s always that one house in town you dream of fixing up. Whenever you see it, you think, “Someone should bring that place back. Restore it to its former glory. Then move in and have a big get together.”

You dream of it being you.

For me, that house was built in 1910 at the corner of Willow and Joyner in my hometown of Ashdown, Arkansas. The two-story frame home has a wraparound porch and a dome with a spire. One of the few houses I’d seen with curved glass in the dome.

A judge built it. It’s really pretty. But it’s fading fast.

When I was a kid, people lived in it. But as time passed the house began to suffer from the same problem that other big, nice, houses suffered from: most folks just can’t afford a house that big.

Heating and cooling would’ve been enough of a challenge, but maintaining and repairing something that large were and are out of reach for the average family budget.

Consequently, as the years passed, the home appeared to be vacant more than it was occupied. A recent drive-by seemed to indicate that no one was living there and hadn’t for a while. Maintenance had also taken a leave of absence.

I don’t think any of this was intentional, it just happened.

But the beauty of the house is still there. The craftsmanship is still there. The dream of seeing it come back is still there.

Everything about the judge’s place screams excellence.

People used to excel at just about everything. Woodworkers could do things to a block or board of wood that was just downright amazing. And they did it with their hands. It was craftsmanship that most of us today couldn’t do with a 3D computer program and a machine.

It’s why houses that were built one hundred to three hundred years ago are saved. You don’t see anyone today making a concerted effort to bring back a ranch-style house that was built in the 1960s. There were millions of those built. And they all look exactly the same; built the same distance apart; in the same neighborhood. All across America.

You hear people say, “…back when things were made to last,” but that’s actually true. It’s why old houses, even when they’re neglected, hang on until they just can’t hang on any longer. They’re solid.

I really want to see that house at the corner of Willow and Joyner come back. I’d like to drive by and see kids running and playing in the yard. People out front, swaying back and forth on a porch swing and waving at me as I drive by. I’d wave back, and also wave at the person in the curved window in the domed tower, who’s writing at their desk under the light of a single lamp.

Much like John Boy Walton in his home on Walton’s Mountain.

Maybe that’s how I see that house in Ashdown. A once-proud symbol of current success and future possibilities.

Every house was a nice house at one time. But often, budget restraints, age, and sometimes abandonment, cause it to fall into disrepair.

Then the people move out. And nature begins to reclaim it. Many wind up being that one house in town that someone has their eye on to bring back to glory.

As I write this, I’m preparing to pack up my mom’s house in Ashdown and move everything to Texas. Mom’s age and health dictates that she can no longer live alone. When her house goes to someone else, it will be the first time in about 150 years that no one in my immediate family will live in Little River County, Arkansas.

Mom’s house in Ashdown is a newer one, relatively speaking, and has been well maintained. It’ll be a great place for the next resident.

Of the six homes my family had in Ashdown, two are no longer standing. One of those that stood on Highway 71 South would’ve been a great project for restoration. But time and the elements eventually claimed it.

I hope that the house at Willow and Joyner catches someone’s eye and heart. Someone who has a passion for seeing quality live on. Someone who believes that someone should bring that place back. Someone who’d restore it to its former glory. Then move in and have a big get together.

If that person is you, I’d love to get an invitation to the open house. And maybe, if you’re generous, an offer to spend the evening. I’ll need a place to stay.

 

©2024 John Moore

John’s books, Puns for Groan People and Write of Passage: A Southerner’s View of Then and Now Vol. 1 and Vol. 2, are available on his website TheCountryWriter.com, where you can also send him a message.