A Mighty Small Nest for an Awful Lot of Birds!

Think your house is too small? We have little idea how families used to live.

The house we left behind was under 1,000 square feet. The closets were nearly impossible. Originally a one bathroom with two bedrooms [three if you counted the make-shift, converted-closet that 3 or 4 boys shared], we wondered how on earth a family of nine managed to live in our Decatur bungalow.

True, we have a bit more elbow room out here in the country. The rooms are large. And our new closet? Heaven! But it wasn't always to spacious.

Our little farmhouse [a cabin, really] housed several generations of the Housworth family. But families were, for many, far different than our modern-day experience of what a nuclear family is today. Aunts, uncles, in-laws, nieces or nephews moved around according to who might have room or food or any other resource that afforded some measure of comfort.

The second generation of Housworths that occupied our home consisted of Ed, son of John Milton and Lou Housworth, and his wife, Lula, who lived here with their seven children. Ed's older sister, Alma, lived here for most of her life. Maude, a niece, also lived here as did Barbara, a relative or friend [I'm unsure which... time to call our Housworths-on-retainer, Marvin and Alton. for some clarification]. There were others, too. Family members were passed around like borrowed lawn mowers.

So our 1,200 square foot farmhouse sheltered eleven people for most of it's middle history. Keep in mind, there was no indoor bath or water until 1988. People slept everywhere! The living room housed two beds. Our bedroom would have slept three or more. The guestroom was home to four boys. And Ed and Lula shared a bed in what is now our bathroom. No doubt they slept well when they could! The other room was the kitchen. It would have acted as the only real "family room" and I wish we could walk in to find them all squeezed in there around a farm table near the wood-burning stove, laughing and sharing stories. The back porch, now enclosed and acting as our pantry and "dog room", held buckets of spring water where all would bathe. Imagine!

And no closets. None.

So we wouldn't complain about space now, even if we needed to. The house would have seemed empty to them. And while we appreciate the space, the peace and quiet that it affords us in embarrassing luxury, what I wouldn't give to share that table until we were tired of stories and retired to our own corner of a crowded room, no doubt laughing and giggling and talking long after we should have fallen asleep in the dark country evening. Each room full-to-bursting with family. And a love and familial intimacy that few of us will know and even fewer would want to know because we have come to expect and appreciate and need our space.

I wouldn't trade it for the biggest house in Atlanta.

Finely-feathered now but a bedroom in the past!