In 1970 my parents bought about ten acres of land on a hillside overlooking Antelope Island and the Great Salt Lake. The land included a sandpit and an orchard of apricot and cherry trees. That same year, my father began building a house.
And when I say he built it, I mean exactly that. He designed it, poured the footings, framed it, he even built and installed the heating and air conditioning ducts. My mother said that when he and his brother put up a wall, if it wasn't 100% square and perfect, they tore down the wall and built it again.
Too bad he passed away before the house was finished.
Of course, as a kid, I didn't appreciate the craftsmanship that went into the house. For me, it was our home, a nice and big home to be sure, but a home, nonetheless.
The family who bought my childhood home after my mother passed away have served the memory of my father well in preserving and upgrading the building. This spring they're doing their largest upgrade yet. They're putting in an addition. It's going to be amazing when it's done.
A few weeks ago a neighbor approached me and asked me a question about the house. He's been hired to do concrete work for the addition. He asked, "Do you know why your father put in two foot footings on his house?"
I have no idea.
I do know, this house was build unlike any during the time. He put in huge windows overlooking the valley. Homes built in the late 1960s and early 1970s did not have windows like that. My dad also put in electrical outlets throughout the house, so many more than what was normal or expected. I guess he overbuilt the foundation as well.
The other day I checked out the building site. It's just a hole right now. They had to dig up one of the deck supports. My neighbor pointed to it and said that no one put in supports like that, no one.
Then again, there were few people like my dad. The house he built is a testament to what a great man, and father, and builder, he was.
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