The Little House on 30th Ave.

The small house on 30th Avenue South had been built by my grandfather when his family outgrew the original shack at the back of the lot. Grandpa’s brother had the blueprints because he had built his own home. But Grandpa, a carpenter with the railroad, couldn’t afford to build as it was shown on the plans so he edited them. The rooms were smaller. And there was that one spot on the stairs where anyone over about 5’5″ had to duck until they cleared the place where the closet overhung the stairway. One step and things were great again. The lot was just north of Minnehaha Creek, which was a great source of places to explore as Grandpa & Grandma’s family grew.
The house had been occupied by Grandma Minnie, Grandpa Jules, & Bud, who was their unmarried son. When I was a baby, Grandma passed away. My parents gave up their rental and moved in to take care of the men. By this time, which was in the mid twentieth century, improvements like running water and electricity had happened.
Because they had all grown up there, my aunts and uncles were prone to dropping in and entering without knocking. This did not seem odd to a kid with Grandpa’s tools in the basement and Grandma’s china in the cupboard.