Don’t know what all the fuss is 'bout with these gadgets, these computers. My people spend a lot of time shakin’ their fists at 'em, just seems like a whole lot of heartache to me. Sure do use 'em a lot, though. Always orderin’ things from this Internet they’re always goin’ on 'bout and they say they can get anythin’ from that place. Heavens, they can even buy cars there, can you imagine?

Way I see it, though, nothin’ much has changed. Used to be you could order just 'bout anythin’ you wanted from a catalog. Why, George and me ordered this here house from a catalog and that was all the way back when cars were just a novelty. Sears and Roebuck, can’t go wrong with that catalog, no ma’am. Picked our house out of the April 1915 issue – they called it the “Argyle”. Cost us seven hundred eighty-five dollars and they sent just 'bout everythin’ we needed to build it. We hired Mr. Jenkins – he lived over by the police station, said he bought that house 'cross the way 'cause the St. John’s Police Precinct was the best work he ever did do and wanted to see it every day, to remember that. Sure did a fine job on the brickwork and such for our house. He and George and Rufus had our house put together so quick I barely had time to make all the curtains. Fact, now that I think 'bout it, I guess I didn’t quite finish the curtains for the main room by the time we moved in. With the river runnin’ down below and those hills and trees on the other side, George said it seemed a shame to cover up that window with a bunch of borin’ old chintz curtains, even if it did cost nineteen cents a yard. Well, I’d been savin’ up for that fabric for three years, puttin’ away a little bit from my sewin’ money every week, and I told George I was gonna put that chintz up on that window come hell or high water and if he didn’t like it, he could sleep on the porch and have the view all to himself. And you know what he did? Stubborn fool took the quilt off our bed and slept on the damn porch! Did it three nights in a row 'til I finally took down those curtains. Didn’t speak to him for two days after that. But he was right – didn’t need those curtains when we had the Good Lord’s best work right outside our window. Never told him that, 'course. Can’t be tellin’ a man he’s right or he’ll start gettin’ ideas he knows what’s what and that just leads to trouble. Few years later, I used that chintz for a fancy bedspread that ended up winnin’ Best of Show at the fair. Me and George never said anythin’ to each other 'bout it 'cause we’d end up fightin’ 'bout it again, 'cept I’d probably be the one sleepin’ on the porch.

Now, the Argyle didn’t come with the front porch we wanted but they wouldn’t let you make changes. You ordered the plan they had and that was that. Well, me and George decided we’d build us the porch we wanted whether Sears and Roebuck said we could or not. He and Mr. Jenkins spent a fair bit of time figurin’ and measurin’, makin’ sure the porch’d look like it was meant to be there all 'long. Did a right fine job I’d say, 'cause it turned out real nice. Phyllis McDaniel – she and her husband used to live right behind us on Willamette, before they drowned in that ferry accident off Swan Island in '23 – she had the “Beaumont” model, which was the same as the Argyle 'cept bigger up top, and she was wishin’ they’d changed their porch after she saw ours. We helped Rufus and Hetty when it came time to put up their Argyle and they changed their porch, too. Did it a little different from ours, just so it wouldn’t look like it came from a cookie cutter.

When they started puttin’ that bridge up in '29, me and Hetty’d sit on the porch with our mendin’ and watch 'em workin’ on it. When George got home, we’d stand out there 'til it was too dark to see and he’d point and explain how they were doin’ what seemed near impossible. Watched it go up and after it was finished, we’d just sit out there, sippin’ our iced tea and lookin’ up at that bridge and visitin’.

Watched boats from that porch, too. I loved watchin’ those big freight barges come in. They moved real slow, seemed to have a certain dignity to 'em, like old royalty. Seein’ those barges meant George and Rufus and all the other men folk in the neighborhood were workin’ regular, puttin’ dinner on the table. Could see the supply ferries, too, so we knew when Andersen’s General Store was gettin’ our orders, and sometimes we’d see the Navy ships when they came into port. In the summertime, we’d watch the sternwheelers go by, watch all those fancy people in their 'spensive clothes drinkin’ and laughin’ their way down the river.

My people are fixin’ it up these days. The porch, I mean. The people who lived here before – the ones who sold my orchard – they took down the one George and Mr. Jenkins spent all that time perfectin’ and put up a ramshackle affair that don’t look right at all. Now, I’m not sayin’ that old porch didn’t need some work, 'cause it surely did. But the people I had then, they didn’t take very good care of it so 'course it needed fixin’. Don’t know what they thought was gonna happen when they didn’t see to that leak over on the corner 'til the rot started, but they just neglected it 'til it was too late to salvage.

Never were ones to do a job right, neither. Didn’t fix it up, just ripped out what was there, even the parts that didn’t need fixin’, and put up this thing they called a deck. Decks belong on boats, to my mind, not the fronts of houses, but they did it anyway, even when I kept hidin’ their hammers and pullin’ off that cheap lattice they put on the front. Even Hetty remarked how ugly that deck was turnin’ out and Hetty isn’t one to say a bad word 'bout anythin’.

But I guess they had to fix that porch before they could put the house up for sale and they needed to do it quick like. So I stopped interferin’ and let 'em get on with it. Figured I’d put my energy to gettin’ someone who’d treat me and my house proper. Had my fill of my people by then and I expect they’d had their fill of me, too. Never forgave 'em for takin’ down my orchard, neither. Oh, they were nice 'nough folks and I liked 'em just fine when they moved in – young family with lots of energy – but they started havin’ problems over the years and the family seemed to just fall apart. The father got real sick in the head towards the end, when the children had families of their own and the mother took a job to pay his doctor bills. He was pretty harmless then, just sat on that porch all day long and watched the world go by. 'Bout that time, he started seein’ me, and we’d talk sometimes 'bout people in the neighborhood, even the ones only we could see. But after awhile he started talkin’ to the walls and ravin’ 'bout people hidin’ behind the camellia bush and I don’t mind sayin’ it scared me. Stopped goin’ out on the porch after that and sure did miss it. When the mother decided it was time to put him someplace where they know how to take care of people like that, it was long since time, you ask me.

Saw a lot of people interested in the house there for awhile. Most of 'em got a good look at all the things needin’ fixin’ – as I said, my people then weren’t the best caretakers – and decided it was too much work. Had a couple people that felt promisin’ but then Mary – that was the mother’s name – Mary would tell 'em what was happenin’ 'cross the street…'nother damn fool developer wantin’ to tear down Rose Walker’s sweet little cottage on the corner, can you imagine? Well, those folks high-tailed it out of here. Can’t say as I blame 'em. My poor old house wasn’t much to look at by then, sure didn’t look like the old Argyle I first saw in the Sears and Roebuck and told George was the one I wanted. Idea of an ugly old box maybe goin’ up across the street didn’t help, neither. Sure didn’t make anyone want to take a chance on the place.

That’s why I made Mary keep that developer nonsense to herself after that. She was gonna have a hard 'nough time sellin’ the place without tryin’ to convince people that the neighbors might beat out that developer on the Walker place. When my people came – and I’ll tell you, I knew they were my people soon’s they came up on the porch and turned 'round to look, before they even came in the door – I said everythin’ I could think of to convince 'em to stay. Couldn’t do much 'bout the smell and the dirt, just hoped they’d look past it, maybe see what it used to be. Made such a ruckus when Mary said they were buyin’ the house, damn near gave Mary a heart attack.

Almost didn’t happen, though. Mary already had an offer from another couple and those people…well, I’m not one to speak bad of folks if I can help it, but those people…they wanted to take out my built-in in the dinin’ room – over my very dead body – and talked a lot of nonsense 'bout “updatin’ ” and “modernizin’ ” and “renovatin’ ”. Sure did use a lot of fancy words, but they all sounded like “destroyin’ ” to me and I told Mary she better not sell to those two or she’d never be rid of me. Took me and George ten years to save up for this here house and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna watch a bunch of modern-types turn my house into nothin’ special. This place is the only thing I got left of my dear George, 'sides memories. Don’t know what I would’ve done if she’d sold to those people, can’t really leave my house that way, but glad I didn’t have to find out.

So my people are doin’ what they can with that porch. Can’t afford to put it back like it used to be, not for awhile, but they’ve spent as much time researchin’ porches as George and Mr. Jenkins spent figurin’ and measurin’ when they first built it so I know they’ll set it right. Spend a lot of time doin’ what they call “on line” at that Internet place they go on 'bout, and I watch pictures of the Sears and Roebuck flash by and I just shake my head in wonder. Sure am lookin’ forward to sittin’ on the porch with Hetty again, lookin’ up to the bridge and watchin’ the boats go by, like we used to do.