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Wednesday, October 26, 2011

East Bedroom - Face on the Wall

I was photographing the  East Bedroom August 1, 2011, and noticed the interesting image (a woman's face) that appeared on the wall.

I walked around the room to photograph from another angle.  The image of the woman's face is even more clear than the other angle.

The image of the woman's face did not remain.  I've tried to recreate the light escaping from the slots of the top metal cap of the beaded shade, and cannot make the face reappear.  I had an observer stand in the room where I took the photographs.  Degree by degree I turned to lampshade, trying to get the face to reappear again.  Nope, couldn't make it happen.

On the dresser is a 1914 photograph of Bessie Pauline Quien Pasternacki, daughter of the second owners of our house.  The Quien family owned our house from 1917 until 2007.  90 years!

What a surprise!  I found Bessie's photograph in an antiques store.  The owner of the shop told me she had two photos that she believed were women who had once lived in my house.  She was right.  I recognized Bessie and her sister Ragnhild immediately.  I made no bones about wanting to purchase both photographs and bring them home.

While photographing the face on the wall in the East bedroom, I turned my attention to the vintage Westinghouse fan. 


Look closely at the pedestal of the vintage fan.  Do you see the image of a man in dark clothing and dark hat.  Perhaps our original owner/builder John Olson Wrolstad, a civil war veteran.  


Monday, July 18, 2011

First Glance

Back in 2001, my husband said to me, "I'd like to show you a neat old house I ran across." We drove to the old house and sat in the driveway about 20 minutes. I was smitten the first time I saw it, and both of us continued our love affair with the house for another six years. The owner, a lady in her eighties lived in another city far away from the old house. We contacted her and asked if she wanted to sell the house. She said "absolutely not."


The lady said she just couldn't part with the house, period. Her parent's bought the house in 1917, and she and her sister grew up there, and when their parents died they inherited the house.  A couple years ago her sister died, and now she owned the house along with her sister's children who all lived out of state.  Nonetheless, I continued to telephone and send letters to the lady for another six years, asking her at least twice a year if she wanted to sell the house.  Finally, very cooly she said to me, "look, if I decide to sell the house, you'll be the first person called." I left that conversation like a little dog with my tail between my legs.

During those six years, my husband and I would drive by the old house every other week (on our way to get groceries) and just sit in the driveway and talk about the house, and "what if". When we talked about the house, we fondly referred to the place as, OUR HOUSE.

Around Valentine's Day 2007, we got a call from a realtor. The realtor wanted to know if we were interested in a fixer-upper. I said I don't know, you'll have to ask my husband. So, I handed to phone over to my husband. A few minutes later, he called out to me, "come here, come here. It's OUR HOUSE, it's for sale!" Here's what we found out from the phone call. The lady had died two months earlier (we didn't know that). Her son call the realtor to discuss selling the house. The next call the realtor made was to us. The realtor had no idea we had been interested in this house. We were purposely quiet about the old house, hoping to buy it at a decent price directly from the old lady. The son of the old lady didn't know anything about us, or our letters and phone calls to his mother the last six years. The fact that we were the first to be called, was an absolute fluke.

Personally, I believe the house was waiting for us to come and rescue it. The old lady had told me that she was so afraid someone would make apartments or a bed & breakfast out of it. And she frankly couldn't allow that to happen. I promised her many times we would restore and keep it a single family home. Because our dream of restoring the old house on Mill St. came true, we're keeping our promises.

And, if you think this story isn't quirky enough, we have our house ghosties around us, and things happening that don't seem to have an explanation. I have the impression "they are watching and cheering us on as we are into fourth year of restoration program." Otherwise, I might find this adventure a bit un-nerving.