Old House My House

Meet the Homeowners: Rita Gurry

2013-05-23T10:00:00-04:00

April 6, 2013 -- Manasquan, NJ

Our second homeowner is Rita Gurry, a single woman who lives in Manasquan on a fairly busy street less than a mile from the beach. She comes from a large Irish family, and it didn’t take long for Rita to tell me her mother hailed from County Tipperary and her dad from County Sligo. In fact it doesn’t take long for Rita to tell you anything. She’s an open book and she likes to talk. She’s also one of six kids who all seem to be pretty close. Her sister Mary lives around the corner and some of her brothers pitched in to help renovate Rita’s house less than a year ago.

(Picture: Rita Gurry from Manasquan, NJ)

Super Storm Sandy hit not long after that renovation and Rita’s modest two-story house took on two to three feet of water. It is a total loss and the house will come down in a few weeks but surprisingly, Rita, like so many others along the Jersey Shore, is taking all this in stride as she moves forward. She attributes her attitude in part to her many years as a cancer nurse, seeing so many people get bad news. “I’m not one of those patients, waiting around to hear bad news,” she says. “I can control my life and the outcome of this storm, so I’m going to move on and build a new house.”

(Picture: Rita's house, after two and feet of water, before it gets torn down.)

Rita tells me how much she loves her house, and not for its finer touches or even for the new floors she put down just before Sandy struck. She loves her home because it’s where her family gathers, where her friends meet to talk and socialize on her front porch, and because it’s where she cared for her mother before she passed away. I suspect those are some of the same reasons we all love our homes, and as I look at her overturned furniture and mold-covered walls my questions about rebuilding fade and I start to look forward to the rebuild. Old or new, her house has many more memories to make. So we plow ahead.

Meet the Homeowners: Carlos and Maria Santos

2013-05-21T10:00:00-04:00

April 5, 2013 -- Point Pleasant, NJ

Today I met Carlos and Maria Santos, the first of three homeowners we’re working with. We hit it off right away. Maybe it was the Jersey thing, or that they have three young kids just like my wife and I. Carlos also hails from the Ironbound section of Newark, which was a favorite spot of mine when I was going to high school in that tough city. But what I most connected with was their optimism. It was irrepressible.

(Picture: Carlos and Maria Santos from Point Pleasant, NJ)

Their house in Point Pleasant sits directly on one of the lagoons that feed into Barnegat Bay, and eventually the Atlantic Ocean. A big boat was tied up to the dock behind their damaged house, ready to take us for a cruise. I imagine the first question most people will have when they hear about the damage to Carlos and Maria’s house is, “Why do they live on a lagoon that leads into the ocean? Of course it got flooded.” But on this sunny, calm day sitting on that boat as we glided to Barnegat Bay, for me that question answered itself. People are drawn to live near the water.

(Picture: The Santos house in Point Pleasant, after two and a half feet of flood water.)

Carlos and Maria told me their incredible story - about two days of flooding and fear. You’ll hear the whole thing in the days to come so I won’t re-tell it now. What I will say is this: After a harrowing night during which Carlos was trapped in the house and Maria was huddled with the kids in a shelter, fearing for his life, and after Carlos refused efforts by rescuers to get him to leave the home, and after being chased from their home by storms twice in less than two years, Carlos and Maria are determined to return. No matter what.

(Picture: The family boat behind the house sitting in a picture perfect lagoon.)

They’re moving forward – raising and rebuilding their house as fast as they can. Their kids need a home and they need to return to their neighborhood. It won’t be easy, with regulatory delays, insurance and FEMA red tape to deal with, and too few contractors with too much work. But I suspect if anybody can get it done, it’s these two. And I’m happy to be along for the ride, wherever it takes us.

Devastated: God Bless the Jersey Shore

2013-05-06T16:35:00-04:00

April 4, 2013 -- Mantoloking, NJ

Just one of thousands of homes destroyed by the storm. More pictures here.

It’s worse than I expected. I saw all the news reports about Super Storm Sandy on TV, of course, and talked with friends and family about their experiences. But that didn’t prepare me for what I'm seeing. Actually standing amid the ruin is an entirely different experience than seeing it on the news.

One of my first stops today is Mantoloking, N.J. a place considered by many to be “ground zero” for the storm. I walk along the coastline, with its pristine white Jersey sand and fresh tracks from the heavy equipment used to groom the beach. But right next to the perfect beaches of my childhood are huge piles of debris. No, wait -- that’s wrong. The debris isn't next to the beach, it is on top of it. There is no “land” here; it’s all beach. It’s all sand, broken up in places by asphalt or stones or wooden decks, but under that, it’s just more sand. And the piles aren’t debris – they are entire houses, or what’s left of them. You know it’s a house because, well, what else could it be? You can see the roof, the doors, the wires, and the furniture. But it’s all mixed up and tangled. It’s deeply unsettling.

Jersey pride is on display everywhere.

And it’s everywhere. House after house destroyed, piled up like yard waste after a spring cleanup. The houses that aren’t completely shredded are tilting or cracked, in some unnatural state. And they are all deserted, even the ones that appear intact. If they didn’t fall down or get washed away they took on water. They’re uninhabitable. Where are the people?

(More pictures showing the storm's devastation can be found here: Storm Photos )

Wheels up 5:00 a.m.

2013-05-06T09:30:00-04:00

(Picture: Another summer for the O'Connors on the Jersey Shore. That's me - bottom left - with four of my six siblings at our rented beach house.)

April 2, 2013 -- Mass Turnpike

The crew headed to New Jersey yesterday to do some scouting and get some b-roll, so this morning I'm driving alone. I have six hours to make it to the Jersey shore for a 1:00 p.m. call time. I know the route by heart but I still plug in the GPS just to count down the miles and see if I can beat the little machine’s estimated time of arrival.

It’s not hard to pass the time. An hour of silence is nice then the morning news on the radio and by 9 a.m. I’m on the phone with my dad. I want to get the history straight. Our family has been vacationing on the Jersey shore and in particular Long Beach Island since long before I was born. LBI, as everyone calls it, is a barrier island about 18 miles long connected to the mainland by a single bridge. To the east of the island is the Atlantic Ocean while Barnegat Bay is just a few blocks to the west. For many people, the O’Connors included, LBI is paradise.

My dad’s been coming to the Jersey shore since he was a kid in the '50s. He has great stories of being a teenager and piling into a borrowed car with his high school buddies to drive to the beach in Lavallette. They would rent a room from a friend’s aunt who charged them “two bucks a bed – per guy, per night.” The room was in a basement and because full moon high tides would sometimes flood the cellar the boys knew to put their shoes up on a chair before falling asleep.

But my family started coming to LBI long before my dad's teenage adventures. As a little girl my grandmother would take a train from Pittsburgh to LBI so the clean, salt air could help her asthma. Back in those days the island was mostly uninhabited, a hunting preserve I think, with just a few hotels and a train that ran down the middle of the island. My grandmother is now 98 years old and doesn’t make the trip anymore. But the tradition she started almost a hundred years ago carries on, and we’re all grateful for it.

My current drive will take me to about 30 miles north of LBI to Point Pleasant, the location of our first rebuilding location. I’ve only shaved off three minutes from the GPS’s ETA so it’s time to hit the gas.

On the road again

2013-05-06T07:40:43-04:00

April 1, 2013 -- Boston

Tomorrow I'm going back to New Jersey. It’s a trip I’ve made a hundred times since I left the Garden State more than 20 years ago to attend college in Worcester, Mass. And even though I settled in Massachusetts and have called it home ever since, Jersey has never left my system. It’s where I was born and where most of my family still lives; my parents, siblings, nieces and nephews. It’s where I grew up, went to grade school and high school and played Little League. And it’s where I still go every Thanksgiving and every summer, to spend a week's vacation on the Jersey Shore.

But my upcoming trip and the ones that will follow won't revolve around fun or family—they'll be all about work. This season on This Old House we decided to take on the destruction wrought by Super Storm Sandy, arguably one of the most devastating housing catastrophes in U.S. history. Cast and crew will head to the Jersey Shore as many times as necessary to make eight episodes of our program and to share the story both of Sandy’s devastation and the recovery that is now underway. Instead of our usual format—helping to renovate a single house—we will chronicle the rebuilding of three homes. We’ll serve more as correspondents than contractors and try to answer the important questions: How and where should people along the coast rebuild? And should they rebuild at all?

(Picture: Our project houses on the Jersey Shore. We'll follow the recovery and rebuilding of all three.)

Along the way we’ll meet the three homeowners and their families, we’ll hear about how Sandy affected their lives and we'll learn about the many challenges they face as they try to rebuild. It will be a story about loss and devastation, yes. But it will also be a story about perseverance and ingenuity. These people will rebuild; there’s no stopping them. And we're proud to be telling their stories. So for me it's another trip back to Jersey, this time with a whole new story to tell.

Lights, Camera, Action!

2012-12-12T10:05:00-05:00

No, this post isn’t about filming This Old House—it’s about an amazing find that came to us through our fabulous interior designers, Dee and Andrew of Terrat Elms Interior Design. Dee told us that her friend Carrie Gustafson, a glass artist who designs beautiful bowls and light fixtures, was interested in designing a light to go over our dining room table.

My father and I went with Dee and Andrew to meet Carrie in her Cambridge studio and learn more about her work. Carrie usually works with colorful glass that she buys in foot-long bars. Two or three layers of glass in different colors are blown into the shape of the light. Through a painstaking process, Carrie cuts out and applies a sandblast-resistant material in a decorative pattern on the glass. The pieces of this material are tiny—it requires a great deal of planning and time to achieve the pattern that she has developed. Next, she uses a tool to etch away the top layer of glass in the areas that are not covered by resistant material. When the top layer is etched away, the layers beneath are revealed, leaving a beautiful, colorful design. When the fixture is lit, it reveals even more subtleties and color.

I highly recommend checking out Carrie’s awesome website which has an excellent, pictorial explanation of her process. We look forward to working with her, Dee, and Andrew to design a one-of-a-kind light fixture for our dining room.

Working With Our Fabulous Designers

2012-12-10T10:05:00-05:00

I spent a couple hours at Roma Tile with our interior designers, Andrew and Dee, of Terrat Elms Interior Design. I went in with a general idea of what I wanted to do with the master bath...I was thinking about using small “penny tiles” in white, with splashes of colorful blue mosaic tile as highlights.

I’ve never worked with an interior designer before, and I’ll admit I was a bit skeptical since I went into this project with a clear vision of how I want our home to look. I was unsure what the designers could add to the vision that our architect and I have had for the space.

But while we were at the tile store, I got to see a glimmer of what working with an interior designer could offer. Dee and Andrew took my ideas and came up with suggestions of ways to make the tile choices pack more punch. For example, in the kids’ bathroom, Andrew suggested that we use a traditional subway field tile on the walls and then use the small white penny rounds on the back of the tub wall for an added dramatic punch, to let those tiles stand out as a focal point.

Dee and Andrew also pushed me a bit out of my comfort zone in considering some very striking square white tiles with black “X”s on them for the master bath floor. In the end, I decided not to go with that choice, but I don’t think I would have seriously entertained the idea without their nudging me, and I'm glad that they expanded my horizons a bit.

Filming Days

2012-12-06T10:05:00-05:00

On days when This Old House is filming, it’s a whole different story from a regular construction day. The house is teeming with people—a couple of producers and guys who move heavy equipment and lighting; Dino, the cameraman; and Thom Draught, the director. Those people are all in addition to host Kevin O'Connor and the other folks who star on the show. We are grateful that they're all incredibly accommodating of our family.

On one filming day, I brought my kids to the house to watch the show film a scene where Tom and Kevin cut a hole in the roof to put the skylight in the master bedroom. My girls love being around the crew and all the excitement of filming! They were hanging around with Deb Hood, the show's producer, and Thom, the director, peeking over their shoulders at the monitors they watch to see what was happening up on the roof.

My kids are too young to realize what “being famous” means. They talk about Tom, Norm, Kevin, Roger, and Richard like they are old friends. And I think part of that is because the guys are such genuine, real people that John and I feel like they are old friends too.

Tommy!

2012-12-04T14:42:01-05:00

We still can’t believe that Tom Silva is renovating our house! Often when I have unrealistically high expectations about someone, the person falls short. But in this case, Tom has more than lived up to our admittedly high expectations. In keeping with our project that is a mix of old (exterior) and new (interior), Tom brings the best of both worlds. He has a deep knowledge of old houses and what makes them work, and a willingness to make use of new technologies to improve on the old when and where it makes sense.

Another thing that surprised us about our project is how small the work crew is. Most of the time thus far, it has been Tom and one other helper, Dan. You can see how Tom produces such impeccable results—he only has people whose work he trusts working on the project. At first I was surprised when I would arrive at the house only to find Dan there by himself. I kept waiting for the big crew to arrive! This may change down the line as the project starts coming together, but for now it's been

On some days there are more people working, like when the roofers and house framers did their jobs. But the sense of ownership and continuity by always having Dan and Tom there gives us so much confidence in the quality of the work that’s being done.

I know our house will be not only infinitely prettier and more livable when they're done, but that it will also be more structurally sound, well insulated, and all around well-built than it was originally. I think that’s pretty rare in renovations of old houses.

A "Web" of connections

2012-08-02T17:50:12-04:00

Last week, I was at my friend Amy’s house for bookgroup. She introduced me to her husband, John, because he’s a big fan of "This Old House." While we were chatting, he mentioned that his father grew up on the same street where our house is. When I asked which street number, John wasn’t sure, so he called his father. Turns out that his father, Web, grew up in “our” house!

At that point, John put me on the phone with his father. Web was amazed to hear that the house was going to be renovated by "This Old House," because he is a long-time fan, and we were both stunned at the improbability of us making this connection.

My conversation with Web helped us answer some of the questions we had about the house. Web’s grandparents bought the house in 1909. They were the second owners, and lived there for more than 60 years. Web’s mother was raised in the house. Right before the Great Depression, Web’s grandfather invited Web’s parents to move in with their new baby (Web). They lived upstairs on the second floor while the grandparents lived downstairs. There were two separate apartments, with a kitchen in each unit. The house was built on a former pear orchard, and there were still two or three pear trees in the yard when Web lived there.

Shortly after we made the connection, Web, his wife Sylvia, and a total of three generations of their family came to see the house. Web told us many stories about living in the house—where people slept, and how the rooms were used. He said the house was full of good memories for his family, and he wished our family many years of happiness there.

Chainsaw therapy

2012-07-16T12:50:14-04:00

The Essex cottage sits on a wooded hillside lot with views to Essex Bay and beyond to the Atlantic. The property is currently 6.3 acres, but at one time it was closer to 10 acres, as three lots were sold off for development by a prior owner. We have taken steps to restrict any future land divestiture, but the larger story is the restoration of the current landscape.

Part of what makes old houses special is that great care was taken regarding their location. The range of factors that guided the decision of where to build was, of course, limitless, but homes were generally sited to take advantage of the sun (critical in the pre-AC days and to enhance natural light), and to optimize a scenic view or vista. That was certainly the case in a small town like Essex, Massachusetts, where homebuilders had their pick of open land.

When we purchased the cottage, the land had not been cared for in many years. The majestic hardwoods and white pines on the property were overgrown and in desperate need of pruning. The understory was a maze of weeds and invasive species. Trash and lawn debris had been dumped in the back ends of the property, and the once attractive gardens that draped the property had long been abandoned. The combined effect was a damp and dreary landscape with limited air flow and restricted natural light. The main house (and an adjacent barn/studio) bore the brunt of these effects—the roofs were turning green, mold was forming from the damp conditions, and views were long compromised.

Where to begin? It starts with two things: the grade and the trees. The former gives clues about the original intent on the house siting; the latter presents the upper level backdrop against which the house sits, and the property orients. Most homeowners mow their lawns frequently, and most recognize the need to prune bushes and to tend to plants. But trees are often outside the comfort zone, and lack of attention can be a huge problem for older homes—one that only gets worse as trees continue to grow (and they always do). It’s also worth noting that there are more trees in New England today then there were when the Pilgrims landed. This aggravates the impact from storms and poses a fire threat during dry conditions.

Careful pruning and selective tree removal pay huge dividends. Like plants and shrubs, trees can grow too close together with neither benefitting from the arrangement. Trees that are adjacent to structures and drive/roadways are dangerous to inhabitants, particularly in adverse weather. Tree pruning is, of course, not for everyone and often times, the size and scope require a professional tree service. I’ve been working in the woods for many years, but I, too, leave the big messy stuff to the professionals. Safety is paramount. As the old saying goes: “Don’t try this at home (unless you’ve done it before and take all the right safety precautions).”

We are about half-way through our little woodlands reclamation project. Problem trees have been removed, the ocean view is slowly coming back, and the natural light is amazing. We’ve uncovered and exposed some amazing rock outcroppings, and the house and barn are drier and more comfortable than ever. So far, we’ve taken out 10 truckloads of trash, stumps, and fallen trees. And in the process, the grade has revealed itself, and a landscape plan that aligns with it is in place. The old growth trees in particular are spectacular in shape and size. They have a certain sculptural aspect that is lost when dead and dying branches interrupt the natural beauty.

Lastly, working in the woods is a great way to connect with nature. I’m not much of a gardener, but I do love trees. So bringing them back to their original glory is enormously satisfying. I can’t wait for the end of the year when we get to show off the reclamation project and enjoy the spectacular late fall colors.

"Blowing up" the house

2012-05-22T13:23:04-04:00

One of our daughters asked, “Can I be there when they blow the house up?” We had to explain to her that demolition doesn’t mean “blow up,” and that our house would be taken apart piece by piece so every usable part could be salvaged for re-use in other homes.

We were able to stop by periodically during the week as the deconstruction crew worked. We couldn’t go in the house because of hazardous dust, but we were able to watch as materials that couldn’t be re-used were sent down the long yellow tubes into the dumpster. It was fun to be able to check in on the progress through the webcams when they went live, too. Even more interesting for our whole family was watching the piles of salvaged materials accumulate in the yard—bookshelves, light fixtures, toilets, a stove, pine floors, interior doors, and even the outlet covers.

Now that the deconstruction is complete we've finally been able to go inside. With the entire structure empty, we can better visualize what the new space will look like, since we’re going to have an open floor plan. In a way, it's actually kind of beautiful (in some places, the light shines through the cracks in the exterior siding). Finally, the process of constructing our new home begins!

Welcome to Essex

2012-05-18T12:39:32-04:00

It’s not every day that you get to appear on your favorite TV show—one that you've watched faithfully for years—but fate has dealt us a good hand. Our project is the restoration of a 1935 three-bedroom cottage in Essex, Massachusetts. The house has seen better days, but it sits beautifully on six-plus acres on the side of a wooded hilltop, with great views of Essex Bay and the Atlantic beyond. Well, at least we think the views are great. Right now, they're a bit obscured pending the arrival of Roger Cook and his team. No doubt I’ll be contributing some sweat equity once they get here, and I have a chain saw at the ready!

My wife and I live nearby the Essex cottage, and intend to use it as a residence for my in-laws. They are in the “bad knee and hip club,” so our design objective will be to accommodate one-floor living, with easy access to and from the house. The house has good “bones” and an intriguing history (more on that in a future blog). We will do a top-to-bottom restoration, upgrade all the systems (including geothermal for heating and cooling), remove a clunky dormer at the rear of the house and replace it with a proper structure that accentuates the roof line, and add a new kitchen and four-season sunroom. And we will do it all in nine months…

We purchased the Essex cottage in January, and were picked for "This Old House" soon after. In short, order, we have found an architect, designer, and landscape planner, met the cast and production team, secured the necessary permits, and finalized the design. And what could be better than asking Norm Abrams or Tom Silva for their thoughts on the latest in flooring and roofing, Rich Trethewey for the latest in green tech for waste water, or Roger Cook for advice on restoring the woodlands and thwarting the forsythia that occupies some choice real estate outside the main house? For the next nine months or so, they get us, and we get them. Can’t wait! P.S.
We like Kevin O’Connor, too…

Swedish inspiration

2012-05-07T11:50:23-04:00

So, why am I so obsessed with Swedish style and craftsmanship? Maybe it has something to do with my ancestry. My great grandparents immigrated to Connecticut from Sweden in the 1890s, and I grew up hearing stories about Sweden from my grandmother. I also had lots of visual reminders of our Swedish ancestry at Christmastime, when my grandmother, mother and aunt would bring out the many Swedish ornaments that decorated our home. We always had strings of tiny Swedish flags on our Christmas tree, which my father topped off with a set of painted wooden Dala horses—one to represent each family member.

When I was a kid, most of the walls in our suburban Connecticut Cape Cod were painted white to emulate the Scandinavian Modern look my parents admired. For example, our kitchen was painted Swedish blue. This contrasted with most of our neighbor’s houses, which were mostly a 1970’s take on Colonial Revival. But I always loved the clean, crisp lines of Swedish design, and envisioned living in a house that would have a mix of bright space and natural wood.

This house represents the opportunity for my husband and I to create that space within the confines of an urban Queen Anne. The house was built in 1887—around the same time my great grandparents arrived here from Sweden. In fact, one of my great grandfathers was a stone mason in Middletown, Connecticut, working on houses that are similar to the multi-family houses in our neighborhood. My other great grandfather—"B.B."—was a builder in New Britain, Connectircut (the "For Sale" sign above is from one of his houses, and hangs in our house today).

Kind of cool to think that Grandpa B.B. left his quaint, rural home in Sweden to come to New England to build houses just like the one where my family will be living. I hope our New England exterior will house a Swedish soul.

How we finally bought our house

2012-04-20T12:36:32-04:00

A few days after the disappointment of realizing we had lost out on buying "The House Around the Corner (HAC)," our Realtor, Carol Kelly, emailed me with the news that there was another house listed in the same neighborhood. Within minutes, my neighbor, Bliss, had emailed me about the house, too. When John and I looked up the location, we were thrilled. But we were warned that the house needed some “upgrading” on the inside.

We went to see the house that afternoon, and immediately saw the potential: high ceilings, a relatively large side yard, a pretty exterior, lots of light streaming through the windows, a finished attic space with cathedral ceilings, and a roof deck! Best of all, we liked the location even better than the HAC. We knew pretty much immediately that we were going to make an offer.

Of course, the downside was that the interior needed a complete remodel. But the HAC gave us a vision for what this place could be. Better yet, we would truly be able to make it our own! Once again, offers were due over the weekend, and once again, there were many other families who seemed very interested. Carol advised us to make a strong offer, and that our best bet would be to make that offer without any contingencies. We thought maybe we could have an inspection done during the open house, but were unable to find an inspector who could do it that quickly. We finally decided that we would waive the inspection. Carol called a builder friend and asked if he would come take a look at the house for us and give us his opinion. He thought it was in good shape structurally. He also gave us an idea of what it might cost to renovate. We decided to move ahead with the offer. Sure enough, there were eight other offers. But much to our delight, ours was the one they accepted!

We got in touch with Marcus Gleysteen, the architect for the HAC, and decided to work with him because we knew he could turn this house into the kind of home we envisioned for our family.

Fast forward to March, when "This Old House" had just taken us on as their next project house. The producers, Deb and Jen, wanted to hear about our “inspiration” for the project. I told them about the HAC, and how it had led us to Marcus. Deb asked if it might be possible for them to see the HAC. I was unsure, as I didn’t have any connection to the couple who bought the house. But once again, I relied on Carol to help us out. She was able to get in touch with the family, and they agreed to let me and the TOH producers see the house. Julie, the homeowner, was gracious and lovely. She gave us the grand tour, and made us feel comfortable. She even agreed to let "This Old House" film a segment in their house. It was kind of funny to realize that she was the person we had been bidding against. But I couldn’t be happier with how everything turned out for us and for them. And I am looking forward to being neighbors!