Note: This post was written on January 2, 2020, but was "back-dated" to appear below the initial post on this blog. At first, I wrote it only for family as a cathartic means of reminiscing as we grieve with our sister and brother-in-law about what happened three days after Christmas, 2019. It includes pictures of how Kathy and Jack's house looked on Christmas morning as they waited for their children, Ben and Aimee, and grandkids to arrive for dinner. A few days later, Kathy and Jack had come to our house for New Year's. On January 2nd, my wife Julie and Kathy were beginning the anguishing task of going room by room in their imaginations, trying to list "contents." The pictures below were somewhat helpful. As I saw them, their "back stories" came to mind. Many of the items in the pictures can never be physically replaced, but it is those irreplaceable things that represent what cannot be lost: the faith and family roots that help us carry on through difficult times.
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Most Americans decorate their homes at Christmas, but as I looked at the pictures below on Kathy's phone today, I realized that she does with decorating what I attempt to do in writing. She creates a warm and cozy feeling at every turn. She is a lifetime elementary teacher and seasonal decorator. I understand this trait in teachers because
my wife Julie is much the same (as are my three sisters-in-law).Whenever "Aunt Kathy's" house was a bustle with dozens of siblings and nieces and nephews and cousins, we all took time to notice the significance in every decorated corner. Each in their own way highlighted the people, stories, and faith that bring meaning and memory to our lives.
My sister learned the feeling of "
cozy" from the master, our mother, but two other people have helped her achieve it in her home. Her husband Jack is the craftsman behind the tiled or hardwood floors, the colonial trim, banister, etc. Those details took shape over the 40-year maturation of the house. The other person who influenced Kathy's decorating skills is our Uncle Neal.
My mother's sister Jackie married the talented proprietor of "
Neal's Floral and Gift Shop" in Croswell, Michigan. Croswell is one of those 19th Century towns from the days when shop owners lived in the "house" above the store. Uncle Neal's "house" was full of beautiful antiques, and every wall and shelf was decorated with the finest things he sold in his shop below. Sometimes there were larger pieces from his store window displays through the years. The rooms were half-museum/half-"Better Homes and Gardens"/half-
J.L.Hudson's motifs from days gone by.
Back in the 70's, during Uncle Neal's busy weeks, Kathy worked in his gift shop. His was the kind of fine gift shop that used display antiques like sleighs and buggies; headboards and highboys. The antiques were not for sale but set the tone for the Victorian finery, lead crystal pieces, music boxes, and one-of-a-kind collectibles that set his shop apart from others in the "
Thumb Area." I think all of the ladies in our family would agree that Uncle Neal's seasonal artistry helped shape their own tastes for "the most wonderful time of the year."
This kind of decorating is an extension of the Biblical concept of "
memorial stones." The idea is not to live in the past but to understand that God uses past moments, events and people in our lives to make us into people in turn help others understand the grace of God. "
Past is Prologue," and as such, we draw upon it,
warts and all. God's grace in the past sheds light on His
providence in the present.
The pictures below were taken by Kathy on Christmas Day, 2019. (Had they been taken on Jack's camera, they would have been destroyed three days after Christmas.) Had Kathy known they were the last pictures she would have of her home, I'm sure she would have taken many more and included the less decorated parts of the house. But I am thankful for these pictures and the stories each brings to mind (which you can read by clicking the
highlighted links).
CLICK ON EACH PHOTO TO ENLARGE:
This is a little display Kathy put up each Christmas in their finished basement: The top three framed pieces are entitled "Are the Lights on at Palmer?" The first is a drawing done by my son-in-law Colton, the second is from Jim and Heather, and the third is from when the
Port Huron Times Herald published a poem by the same title written by my brother Paul (1998).
I've told the story behind the question here in
Chapter 23 of
Bringing Home the Duncan Phyfe.
There on the table is a copy of the story Kathy read to her little brothers each Christmas through the 1960's:
Holly and Ivy (as explained in a post called "
When Doubt Came Slowly."
The lighthouse on the left of the table is the
Fort Gratiot Light, the oldest lighthouse in Michigan, and our mother used to play "dolls" at its base as little girl. The old wooden shoes are homage to the fact that Jack was born in the Netherlands. The two ceramic houses were chosen for their resemblance to Kathy and Jack's house. The glow of this picture and many others is from
Luminara candles. It was at Kathy's house that I first saw these battery-operated wax candles that look so real. The technology behind their flicker was
first used in Disney's "Haunted Mansion," but most people find them more cozy than frightening--especially at Christmas.
To the right of this display is a small cast iron stove which often took the chill off this beautiful basement family room. That stove came from the finished breezeway of
the house that sits deeper in the woods, the
house so long in coming spoken of so fondly in many posts at
Patterns of Ink.
To the right of the banister in that second picture is a "library" of favorite DVDs and wonderful children picture books. Another room in the house is called the "library" but here is where most of Kathy's printed treasures were kept. More about this at the end of the post.
This fourth picture is upstairs at the front foyer. I dare say that most of the people reading this post have stood in that entry way. As you can see, it was breath-taking at Christmas time. Since Kathy has shared a poem of mine more than once on Facebook called "
At Grace,"
Here is a secret: it was at Kathy's house on Thanksgiving that the final version of that poem was written in 2006. The lines:
"...
keeping window watch;
then taking covered dishes at the door;
and hugging through coats
that bring in winter’s air.
Staring fondly at the face
come furthest home"
It was this entry way that was in mind when I wrote those lines, It is true for the entrances of all my siblings' and my own homes, past and present, but this entry way where the images of that poem had recently happened when the lines crystallized for that post.
At the far end of the entry is the "study." If you enlarge this picture, you'll see a "Let it Snow" wall collage that Kathy had just created the weekend before Christmas. More about this corner of the house at the end of this post.
To the right of that entry way was the main living room. My mother and father sat in "seats of honor" at the predecessor of that couch to watch a video photo-montage that we put together for their
40th Wedding Anniversary in 1991.
More than 100 people came to that "open house" at Kathy and Jack's. Hard to believe that this year is my own 40th Anniversary with Julie. (We share wedding date with Kathy and Jack.) Kathy and Jack celebrating 45; Paul and Dee 42; Dave and Jayne 41; and Jim and Heather are celebrating their 28th. Which means that next year the five siblings will be celebrating more than 200 wedding anniversaries. I feel another family get-together at Kathy's house coming on!
At the east end of that living room is the dining room behind which is the bay window where the kids used to perform their "shows" (typically at Christmas). Aimee recently wrote of that window on Facebook. (Warning from Uncle Tom: we have video of those shows so be nice.)
Just steps away from that formal dining room table was a small round breakfast table in the large kitchen, and as you can imagine that is the space in this house where the most living took place. You can see Jack at the far end at the sink, and since that photo shows the company arriving, allow me to share some other photos of these same spaces showing the true treasures of the home...
So that was Christmas 2019, nine days ago, you all remember. It was not unlike the times we all shared with our own families. . . .
But there is a reason for this post:
If you are reading here, you know what happened
three days after Christmas, three days after the company left but left-overs were still in the fridge. Local radio stations returned to non-Christmas music and Kathy was preparing for another special group coming on Sunday. Most of us were in that holiday fog my brother Paul posted about that morning. You know the feeling...
It was on that Saturday
three days after Christmas and three days before New Year's Eve when it happened.
Kathy and Jack were out to eat with some friends. The house was empty, and we thank God for that.
Less than a half-hour after they left the house, a total stranger was driving past the house on Sass and saw the glow of flames from the rear of the house. He pulled in the neighbor's long
driveway to the house deeper in the woods (the one
our family built in the 70s.) and called 911. The neighbor from the rear house tried calling Kathy's cell to make sure they were out of the house, but the 911 call had set in motion a rapid response and the police had reached Kathy at the restaurant. The two couples left their table and were back at the house within ten minutes. The rest is described
at this December 31 post, but I thought it might be meaningful for people to understand the context of this trial by fire.
The morning after the fire, Kathy's oldest granddaughter said on the phone: "Oma, we prayed last night that somehow in the ashes you would find treasures." Looking at these pictures, that prayer might seem like true child-like faith, but guess what? The garage and breezeway, which were added several years after the main house, survived. Cars, tools, and many stored items were in the garage. (I learned today that all the historical family photos from our own mother's attic [and her
wedding book] were there, but sadly Kathy's own wedding book was in the house.)
And in the corner of the house that is left standing is the "study" in the fifth picture above. Inside that room is a large oak roll-top desk that is completely black with ash...BUT...the contents inside which included passports, important papers, and some precious Christmas gifts from three days before were saved.
And deep in the rubble of that basement which now contains the what remains of the roof, the upstairs, and the main floor. The cast iron stove from our homestead is standing with nothing at all on top of it. Kathy was literally rejoicing that her granddaughter's prayer was answered. Who knows what other "needles" may be found in this blackened "haystack."
The same morning on the same phone call, Kathy's six-year-old grandson asked, "Oma, did our books burn? The ones we always read?" [See photo three.] Kathy had not yet seen the picture above and even as I write this post five days after that night, she has not seen this site since that night on the front lawn with the fire-fighters. Even so, she knew the answer to the sweet question. "Honey, I'm afraid the books did burn. There gone," she said with surprising calm.
"All of them?" he added. "I'm afraid so, Sweetheart."
And with the same sense of hope he has learned from his Oma, he said: "That's okay, Oma. I have them all memorized... I have the whole house memorized. I will never forget any part of it." This from the young boy who enjoyed those vanished rooms just three days before.
I mentioned in
the other post that Kathy and Jack kept their plans to be here in west Michigan for New Year's. Hard to explain in the face of this loss, but it was wonderful. We got so much done, and other than the understandable subtext of every conversation, it felt very normal ringing in the new year together. (That's them at midnight.)
I confess that my writing this is in part cathartic for me, but that is true for much of the writing here at Patterns of Ink. It is my hope that reading this post will be of comfort to my whole family, each of whom could add many paragraphs of their own from our countless times together in Kathy and Jack's house.
Beyond this however, I hope that the links may help explain
the roots that help in such a time and the
faith that has sustained Kathy since teen years and both Kathy and Jack as a couple for over forty-five years.
One other "treasure" was found beside the foundation of the house outside. Jack's roots are Dutch and many years ago they chose to be called "Oma and Opa." Julie and I gave them this garden stone some time ago when they added the large porch on the back of the house. They found it in all the debris on Monday. (While I did say the garage survived, that is the siding on the garage behind the garden stone.)
Romans 12:15 tells us to "Rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep." I know hundreds and hundreds of friends and even people who have never met Kathy and Jack have done just that since the fire that came
three days after Christmas, and it is our hope that someday on this same site the pages that seem lost for the moment will be written afresh... and read and turned and loved and shared by those who know the book so well.
© Tom Kapanka, Janyary 2,, 2020
I simply said to my sister, "This reminds me of that scene at the end of "It's a Wonderful Life" when the whole town hears of the crisis and comes in the living room with that laundry basket full of blessings." And with nothing more than that image, Kathy bit her lip and tears flowed. I did the same. "That's... exactly how...it feels," she slowly said, "God is so good." And then she added, "Remember the note in the book at the end? 'No man is a failure who has friends."
