to a house to make it into a home. I remember when my wife cringed when she gave me a bedroom to turn into a man cave. I went in, emptied everything out, closed the door and locked it and went to work.
I had a stack of mahogany and mahogany plywood and went to work. When I reopened the room it was like going through a time warp. You went from Leave it to Beaver suburban home straight to an officer's room in a Liberty ship in 1943.
The devil in a project like that is in the details. The yellow rain gear hanging on a hook of the closet...the tarnished brass Zippo next to a green pack of Luckies. The sound powered telephone on the bulkhead, the battle lantern clipped to the side of the bunk. A 40s communication receiver sitting on top of a short locker.
The thing that really sets it off is three PVC sprayed grey and stenciled pipes running across the overhead supposedly for potable water, fuel oil and a vent. It give the room a sense of utile.
One step out the door and it's back to the world of June, Wally and the Beav.
People often forget the difference between a house and a home. A house is a few walls and a roof. A home is what you make out of the house.
You could give some people a million dollars and a house and they'd still wind up with a house. A sterile, pretentious palace. They would cast off the well made wooden table with the finish rubbed off by three generations of cleaning and kids doing their homework sitting at it. They would cast off three generations of love, understanding, misunderstanding and generally family events in exchange for a flimsy table of chrome and formica.
Yet give another person a house and $200 and they'll turn it into a warm home that is a joy to enter and leaves you feeling good. Most likely you'll see the wonderful wooden kitchen table she bought for $5 from the person that owned it replaced it with a table from IKEA.
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