Date #44 was one of very few widowers that I dated.

His wife had died in her early 40s, leaving behind three children. She’d been dead less than a year and this man had re-entered the dating world in hopes of healing his heavy heart. He talked about her through most of our lunch date. More than anything, I wanted to take his hand and tell him that he was blessed to have lost her through death rather than divorce. When someone dies, there’s loss, grief and mourning, but there are also happy memories, perhaps magnified in death beyond what they were in life.

When there’s a divorce, there’s still the horrific pain of loss, coupled with grief and mourning, but there’s also rejection, humiliation, and a severance of family ties. Each and every happy memory of the past is tainted and poisoned by the angry ex-spouse’s ugly words, coupled with your own self-doubt and self-recrimination. Divorce has all the sadness and loss that comes with the death of a partner, but with an extra heaping helping of rejection. When there’s a divorce in the family, there’s a conspicuous absence of supportive souls coming by to sit on your couch and hold your hand and wipe your tears. There are no thoughtful neighbors dropping by with their warm casseroles.

Recently, I had the good pleasure to meet someone who’d been a partner in two long-term marriages. She buried her first husband and divorced the second one.

“Rose, there’s no comparison,” she told me one day. “When they die, it’s over and you have the good memories and people are so kind and there’s help and support and there’s some grief but it’s not a hard thing to move beyond. When the marriage ends as the result of a divorce, it’s brutal and painful and there’s a hurt and a betrayal that doesn’t go away for years and years. When I hear widows and widowers going on and on about their loss, I just want to take them by the hand and tell them, ‘count your lucky stars that he didn’t divorce you.’”

Elizabeth Kubler Ross speaks of this in her remarkable book, Life Lessons.  She writes, “People who lose someone through divorce or separation will often say that they realize death is not the ultimate loss. Rather, it’s the separation from loved ones that is so difficult. Knowing about someone’s continued existence but being unable to share it with them may cause far more pain and make resolution far more difficult than permanent separation through death. With those who have died, however, we find new ways to share their existence as they live on in our hearts and memories.”

Richard Warren Sears - my hero and a merchandising genius - decided that the best way to sell more of the stuff in his 100,000-item, 1400-page catalog was to sell kit homes. In the first years of the 20th Century, multi-generational households were the norm, and Sears knew that getting people into a home of their own would create new customers and also create new demand for household products.

In 1908, a little ad appeared on page 594 of the Sears general merchandise catalog. It read, “Let us be your architect, without cost to you.” Interested buyers were invited to write in and request free specialty catalog of house plans. The first houses ranged in price from $500 to $5000.

And so it was that Richard Warren Sears entered into the kit house business. The mail-order homes were shipped by boxcar and came in 30,000 piece kits. Sears promised that a man of average abilities could have one assembled and ready for occupancy in 90 days.

The house were called “Sears Modern Homes.”  And they really were modern homes.

In 1917, American Carpenter and Builder Magazine reported that “watertight roof, walls and floor are an essential feature of a modern city house.” As a point of reference, Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “Little House” books described life on the plains in soddies and tiny cabins in the 1870s.

It’s possible that the Midwestern men and women who built Sears kit homes in the early 1900s could have been raised in housing that would be considered extremely primitive by today’s standards.

Below is a picture of a soddie. These were very primitive and damp and dank and fairly miserable way to spend the day, nine months out of the year. One look at this photo (below) and you can understand why a pretty little Sears bungalow would be classified as a “Modern Home.”

A Soddie in Kansas, early 1900s

A remuddled Sears Americus in Norfolk's Park Place, on 27th Street

According to local lore, the sextant’s home at the Greenlawn Cemetery (in Newport News, Virginia) is a Sears Home. As is so typical with these “legends,” no one knows which model of Sears Home, only that it came from the Sears Roebuck catalog in the early 1900s. (Sears offered 370 models of their kit homes.)

Recently, I went out to Greenlawn Cemetery to see if the Sextant’s home was indeed a Sears Home. More than 80% of the time, these “stories” about Sears Homes turn out to be erroneous. Most of the time, people do indeed have a kit home, but it’s a kit home from a different company. In addition to Sears, there were five other companies that sold kit homes on a national level (such as Montgomery Ward, Sterling, Lewis Manufacturing, Gordon Van Tine and more).

While I was out at Greenlawn, I took some pictures of the house and walked around and studied it a bit. I’d still like to get into the house to confirm this, but as of today, I’m 60% certain this is a Sears House, more specifically, the Sears Berkeley. However, before I declare this an official, authenticated Sears Home, I’d need to see the home’s interior.

The house at Greenlawn is not a spot-on match to the catalog image. The windows are significantly different, as is the front porch (which has been enclosed).

The Berkeley, as shown in the 1936 catalog

The Berkeley at Greenlawn Cemetery

Front yard of The Berkeley. It's a nice quiet neighborhood.

For months, I begged my husband for a dog. He said, “Absolutely not.”  I pleaded, I promised, I cajoled, and finally, about two years later, he said, “Okay.”

So then I started the rounds at the local shelters, but to my surprise, I found that most dogs offered for adoption were Pit Bull mixes.  My husband the lawyer advised, “There’s one dog I will not have in my home: A Pit Bull.”

After a few weeks, I went with a little Sheltie puppy that I purchased in North Carolina. She was so gentle and docile when we had our half hour together on the farm. I named her, Theodora or “Teddy” for short.

Within 48 hours of arriving home in Norfolk, she turned into a wild beastie. She ate things, she chewed things, she bit people and furniture and rugs. She considered the upright vacuum to be an exceedingly dangerous appliance and did all within her six pounds of puppy-power to annilihate the Hoover.

She also considered the Swiffer a personal enemy, and invested a lot of energy desperately chasing the ruthless appliance as its head swiveled and swung around the floor. She’d snap at (and occasionally bite) the head and the wand. When she managed to wrestle free the white cloth on the head, she’d take off running through the house with a slightly dusty swiffer pad dangling from her puppy mouth.

When she was in the yard, Teddy dug enormous holes and ate English Ivy (which is bad for dogs) and literally, ate herself sick. She thew up a lot. We practiced the “drop it” command many times, but that command had no effect whatsoever when Teddy discovered the joys of a slightly decomposed squirrel in the backyard.

She also barked and growled and growled and barked. She barked all the time. She barked at people. She barked at squirrels. She barked at the trees. One day, I caught her barking at the azalea bush. The azalea bush got off light. The gardenia bush committed some doggy crime, worthy of capital punishment. She pulled it clear out of the ground, root ball and all, and went running through the yard at 120 mph, with its poor root ball still dripping dirt clots hither and yon.

More than a few times I thought to myself, “This is worse than having a toddler!” It was, in fact, like having an especially agile and fast toddler with extra-sharp teeth, and a penchant for antique furniture.

The experts said, “Provide plenty of chew toys.” Didn’t matter. She’d walk over the mounds of chew toys in the house to go chew on my mother’s favorite wooden chair.

“Keep your household calm and quiet, and you’ll have a calm and quiet puppy,” the experts advised. Our household was calm and quiet, until we took in The Wild Beastie.

I read books, we did puppy training, I consulted with smart people and did all the things I could think to do. And there were times I considered giving the little dog away. She was too much work, too much effort and caused too much damage. She was spayed at four months old, but that didn’t calm her down, either. The day I brought her back home after the spay surgery, she slept peacefully in my arms for two hours.

“This is what it’s supposed to be like,” I thought to myself as I nuzzled her soft fur and gave her a little hug. Her big brown eyes looked up at me and then she’d sink deeper into my arms, happy to lay still and soak up the love and attention.

And then she woke up and took off running. Literally. Twice, we went back to the vet because she ripped her stitches and they became infected.

And then sometime around one year, it was like a switch turned off. She calmed down. The chewing stopped. The incessant barking slowed. The non-stop digging completely stopped. She no longer attacked yard tools, and she stopped eating toxic things in the backyard, like the tulip bulbs around the oak tree.

Best of all, the nipping and “play biting” also slowed way, way down.

She’s still a busy little dog and there’s still much to do in our backyard, but the destructive tendencies have disappeared. She’s become a delightful little companion and is a very sweet-natured dog. She actually sulks if we yell at her. Yes, she sulks. One year ago, you could stand in front of that dog, and rant and rave and she’d toddle off to find a new thing to destroy.

Now we have our routine. When the sun goes down, Teddy curls up on the couch, next to my husband (the one who didn’t want a dog), and falls asleep. When he sits in the backyard and smokes his pipe, she sits at his feet and keeps him company. When we eat breakfast and dinner, she sits quietly at our side and if we dont’ slip her a little treat, she’ll rest her head on our thigh, as if to say, “don’t forget about the little dog here.”

Update:  In May 2010, she chased away miscreants who were getting ready to break into my car!  An amazing story! Click here to read.

In short, I’m glad I stuck it out. She’s a good dog and a delightful companion. And she’s such a gentle little soul.

For more pictures of Teddy the Dog, click here.

To read about the amazing collection of Sears Homes in the Midwest, click here.

To read about the kit homes in Virginia, click here.

Teddy, about eight weeks old, with Wayne

Teddy today, at about 16 months old

Rate My Face vs. Internet Dating:  Whats the Difference?

Recently, I spent three weeks traveling throughout the state of Illinois. In all my years of driving, I have *never* seen so many sherrifs and cops, sitting alongside the edge of the road with their radar guns. I’m guessing that this has become the new way to compensate for budget shortfalls.

In Dallas, Texas, the Powers That Be have actually shortened the yellow light cycle (at intersections with cameras) to help fatten city coffers. Read more about it here. We’re not talking about chump change either. More than $130,000 was generated by citations issued at one camera-controlled intersection in Dallas in five months. That’s right:  More than $130,000 in five months.

Take a look at how fast I was recently traveling along I-64 (St. Louis to Norfolk, Virginia).  Man, I was flying. 

Zooming along I-64 at a very high rate of speed

Whilst driving around the state of Illinois, I visited Metropolis way down in the southern  most part of the state. I found a handful of Sears Homes, and I also found Superman.

I sent my brother an email and shared the photo I took of Superman (see below). My brother wrote back and said, “Smallville, Illinois? Ask to see Superman’s birth certificate. And while you’re there, ask about Obama’s too. More probable that we’ll see Superman’s first.”

Superman stands proud and tall in Metropolis

On Wednesday, February 17th, I left for Illinois. Today, Wednesday (March 1oth) I returned home. I spent most of these three weeks, traveling throughout the state of Illinois, from Chicago to Cairo to Champaign, photographing and documenting the Sears Homes among us. To read more about Sears Homes, click here.

In a few months, I’ll be finishing up this new book titled, The Sears Homes of Illinois.

Traipsing around Illinois was a lot of fun, but also a lot of intense effort. I started each day around 5:00 am, and mapped out a detailed plan of where I’d travel and what I’d do. Then I’d hit the road between 6:00 am and 8:00 am and stay gone until 4:00 pm or beyond. In my three weeks in Illinois, I put 2,500 miles on my little rental car. That doesn’t include my travels around Chicago, where Rebecca Hunter was kind enough to drive me around.

When I’d enter a city, I’d take a look at my Garmin and find the railroad tracks and find the cementery and find the streets marked “McKinley” and “Elm” and “Pershing” and “Third Street.” You can usually find Sears Homes on streets thus named. And then I’d drive through these areas, looking for Sears Homes. When I found a Sears Home, I’d make a note of the address and then I’d use my reference books to find how the house originally appeared in the old catalogs. Then I’d take a photo of the house from the same angle that it appeared in the 1910s or 1920s catalog.

In those three weeks, I took 1,500 photos of 200+ houses. That’s a lot of photos.

And then I returned home. I’ve never been so glad to get on an airplane in my life!

Here are a few of my favorite photos:

Nice Sears Corona in Central Illinois

Sears Ashmore in Central Illinois

Model #196 in Southwestern Illinois

A nice Westly in Metropolis, Illinois (Home of Superman!)

Sears Hollywood in Southern Illinois

Sears Edgemere in Central Illinois

Sears Puritan in Southern Illinois, near the mill in Cairo

Thanks to a FOSH (Friend of Sears Homes), I found the 5th known Sears Magnolia in the country. Joy sent me a link last week to a story on a Sears Home just outside of Raleigh. When I clicked on the link, I had no idea the show would be featuring a Sears Magnolia - the Creme de la creme of Sears Homes!

Monday afternoon, I returned from Illinois (where I spent three weeks doing research on a new book on Sears Homes), and Tuesday morning (yeah, the next day), I left my house at 6:00 in the morning to make the drive down here. By 10:00 am, I was sitting in front of the Sears Magnolia. I’m writing this blog from a nice little “family style” restaurant on the outskirts of town. It’s the only place in town with Wi-Fi and I highly recommend the Chicken Salad Sandwich. And thank goodness - I’m back in a land where people know how to make Ice Tea.

In a few minutes, I’ll get in my car and drive back to the Sears Magnolia and take a tour of the inside, thanks to the very courteous owners. This will be the second Magnolia I’ve been inside. The first was in Canton, Ohio. In 2002, PBS’s History Detectives did a segment on Sears Homes, and invited me to be part of the program. I took a nap inside the house, and that was one of the happiest naps of my life!

There are also Sears Magnolias in Indiana, Pennsylvania and South Carolina.

Below is the Sears Magnolia in North Carolina.

Original catalog image from 1922 Sears Modern Homes catalog

This once-lovely Sears Whitehall is in a small town in southwestern Illinois. In its happy days, it was a lovely home with clapboard siding (all cypress), probably painted a bright white with tasteful colors or the trim and shutters.

And then one day, someone thought it’d be a swell idea to wrap this fine old house with faux-logs. Sadly, this Sears Home has lost much of its value, due to this insensitive remodeling job.

This 1920s Sears Home does not look good dressed in faux logs

And then there’s this once-lovely Westly, now dripping in plastic and other PVC-based products. There’s so much that’s wrong with this house, I’m not sure what to say. However, I can say that it’s value as a historic structure is mostly lost. What a pity.

Poor little house. If this were a dog, we'd put it out of its misery.

This is a Sears Argyle, and before the "remodeling" work was done, this was a darling Sears Argyle.

To learn more about Sears Homes, click here.

That I overlooked before…

This (see below) is a Sears House, and more specifically a Sears “Dover.” Note the clipped gables on the roof’s edge (also called a jerkinhead).   This house is in Alton, Illinois and it’s one of my favorite Sears Homes, and this Dover is the prettiest little Dover I’ve ever seen.

A pretty little Sears Dover in Alton, IL

Recently, I traveled to southern Illinois to re-visit the site of the old Sears Mill.

In late 1911, Sears spent about $1 million to build a state-of-the-art mill just outside of Cairo, Illinois. The mill was actually located in a tiny burg called Urbandale. The Sears Mill was an impressive operation, covering 40 acres and employing about 80 full-time workers. About 20 acres were “under roof.” In other words, the site had 20 acres of buildings.

That’s a lot of buildings.

Each day, the railroad cars brought enormous quantities of yellow pine and cypress into the mill, right out of the virgin forests in Louisiana and Mississippi. Each day, those workers turned those logs into 10-12 kit homes. You read that right:  Hard-working men, using powerful saws and planers and other massive machines, carved those trees into kit homes. Kit homes with 30,000 pieces. That’s a lot of lumber.

In 2003, when doing research for my book, “The Houses That Sears Built,” I traveled to the site of the old mill. Not much to see there, but a couple little Sears Homes and a lot of woods and a couple bean fields.

Fast forward seven years to 2010.

Now I’m writing a new book about Sears Homes, and I decided it was time to dig a little deeper.

This time around, I contacted Richard Kearney, a local historian, long-time Cairo resident and all-around Smart Cookie and good man.

I asked him if he might have time to spend a day with me, helping me navigate the back roads of southern Illinois. To my delight, he readily agreed. Our day together could not have been any more delightful. With Richard’s fantastic knowledge of the area, I learned so much more about the old Sears Mill and its connection to local history.

One small example:  Soon after entering Urbandale, we turned onto “Sears Road” (the site of the old mill), and Richard spoke up and said, “You know, this used to be known as ‘Sears Roebuck Road.’”

I replied, “You’re kidding!”

He said, “It’s true. This road went all the way through, and when the Interstate came through, it cut the road right in half, creating two dead end streets on either side of I-57.”

This is the kind of quirky history that I just adore. I was enthralled.

“On the other side of the interstate,” Richard said, “you’ll find the other half of this road. It’s now called “Roebuck Road.”

Now I’ve been writing about Sears Homes for many years and I’ve been to Cairo many times and I’ve spent many hours learning more about Sears and Cairo and the mill, but I’d never heard any of this.

I asked Richard to show me where Roebuck Road was. He gladly obliged.

And there it was - Roebuck Road. And there was yet another bonus! Behind the Roebuck Road sign was a perfect little Sears house. It was a Sears Wexford.

A Sears House on Roebuck Road. Or maybe it’s a Roebuck house on Roebuck Road?

Either way, Garmin apparently never got the memo that Sears Roebuck Road had been sliced into two pieces.

Sears Road - in Urbandale

Note the little Sears Wexford in the background!

Someone needs to tell Garmin that Sears and Roebuck are now divorced - thanks to the Interstate!

Richard - thank you so much -  for sharing your knowledge and being such a good sport and giving up an entire day of your life to help me find my way around the southern-most tip of Illinois. You’re a real trooper and a treasure-trove of knowlege!

During my long drive through the Illinois countryside, I found this Sears Hollywood sitting just off the main drag in the tiny town of Owaneco, Illinois. The house is a spot-on match to the original catalog image, but this poor Hollywood is in poor shape.

Some of its flesh is missing and the skeletal system is also showing some signs of decay.

Perhaps someone from Owaneco will find this post and let the owner know that his old bungalow is actually a historically significant Sears Home!

Sad little Sears Home in Owaneco, IL

Sears Modern Home #163 in Taylorville, Illinois.

Whilst in Taylorville, Illinois last week, I found something I’d never seen before:  A Sears Modern Home Model #163. I talked with my dear friend Rebecca Hunter and learned that she’d never seen one either. In other words, this is a very rare model. And there it sits in Taylorville, a victim of insensitive remodeling.

This once-grand house has now been converted into a multi-family dwelling, which is especially sad.

As I’ve driven around the Illinois countryside, I’ve found that too many Sears Homes are in deplorable shape and are being treated like yesterday’s garbage. Hopefully, my new book on Sears Homes will do a little something to stem this onerous problem.