A Story, told through Layers of Linoleum

Today, at the Bunny House, one of my tasks was to pull up linoleum in the kitchen. The first layer had been removed by M & L our first weekend out. Today, I stripped the second layer; which took the floor down to the original tiles, installed by the first owners. This was a very repetitive task- pull a tile, scan for tacks, beat the crap out of tacks, repeat. 

The very first layer (the lowest, earliest tile) is a very faded red with black, white and gray spatter-spots on it. When we removed the cabinets, we could see that their original paint color was a pale gray. Today, it was so easy to imagine a young couple moving into their first home (let's face it- even in 1942, this was a starter home) and the care they must have taken in selecting every detail. I can see the wife, standing in her red, white and gray kitchen. She must have felt very grown up and proud: her first house, with it's subtle yet contemporary art-deco inspired kitchen. World War Two was raging and the ability to make choices- even about something as simple as tile- must have felt luxurious in a time of rationing and shortfall.

The original owners sold the house to a family who lived there for the next 40 years. At the time of her passing, the elderly woman who had lived there was over 90 years old. She drove, danced and dated until just a few months before her passing. The second layer of tile- a weird, industrial version of linoleum that lacked the flair of the original red- was her selection. She painted the walls a pale lemon yellow, although she kept the gray cabinets, and added this bizarre amalgam of multi-colored bits and pieces pressed into cheap tile. I have to wonder if this was pitched to her by some salesman as the latest thing or as cheap and effective. The look is steretypical 1970's public school hallway. Check out pics in earlier posts. This was the floor of a busy mom raising four children. This was the floor of suburban track housing and Eisenhower prosperity. Until it was covered over by cheap beige and cream peel-and-stick vinyl times sometime recently. 

The final layer, light colored and cheap, was the choice of a woman alone. Someone who's children have grown and for whom the need to worry about hiding spills and crumbs and footprints has long passed. She was happy and active and independant and bold.

I wonder what we'll build upon her foundation?