Flint Rock Rd. Rockville, Md

Having a new home being built for us was very exciting. It also required patience, a difficult quality for us with our immediate expectations of completion. Fortunately, we bought a site in Rockville, Maryland not far from where we were renting, and so, we could visit the reality of our dream while it was being constructed. We had, indeed, dreamed of our own home for several years before we were able to construct one. Karen and I had enjoyed pouring over home-design magazines for the first five years of our marriage and had decided on what we liked and did not like. We had even tried to design our own floorplans, knowing that we would end up with one originated by a developer. But we had fun with our daydreams.

The house we decided to have built for us was of a multi-level design. The main floor had a large living room, dining room and kitchen. The upper level had three bedrooms, one for us, one for Deb and one shared by Ken and Kip. The lower level, below the main floor, had two more bedrooms, which were dedicated for my study and for storage, as well as what many would call a den or family room. That’s where we relaxed and watched television in the evening. Below the lower level was a full basement, a space we did not realize, at the time, was unique to northern dwellings. The laundry, furnace, water heater and out-of-season stuff could be found there. Years later when we moved to Houston, Texas, we were startled to learn that these utilities, except for the laundry, were relegated to the attic. We former Yankees could not abide the idea of a water heater above our heads and had our future builders make room for similar equipment being lodged in the garage! At the time we purchased the property in Maryland, we paid about $27,000, and sold it for only a modest increase, five years later. Today, it would take us more than $500,000 to buy it back!

There was only a modest yard associated with our suburban home, perched on a low hill. Grass cutting was a challenge for the front lawn. The backyard was overgrown with shrubs and trees. Over the years, we slowly converted this area into a rock garden, a small site surrounded by nature. Shortly after we moved into our new home, a large tree was uprooted by a windstorm and many weeks were devoted to cutting up the remaining roots and enlarging the opened area. Fortunately, the tree missed the surrounding houses, and ours, as it toppled over.

There was a real advantage in living close to our new house as it was being constructed. We had ordered that the exterior, wood panels be painted a light green to offset the red bricks of the foundation walls. We were amazed when we first saw the glossy finish illuminating our part of the cul-de-sac of our truly outstanding home. The builder repainted with an appropriate outdoor product to give a result that would be less offensive to all of the neighbors.

We actually had known neighbors living around us. They became close friends over the years, and we shared meals and parties with them. On one side were Bernie and Pat O’Donnell; on the other were Joe and Angela Ditchey and their many kids. Our best friends, Bob and Sally Thyberg, lived across the street from our cul-de-sac. We spent many evenings together watching the newly created “Star Trek” and “Mission Impossible.” Bob and Sally also played bridge and liked the same summertime gin-and-tonics and wintertime scotch-and-sodas that we consumed with them. Bob, who worked for the Department of the Navy, drove a motorcycle, which Karen dared to ride with him; I declined.

Stores, school, and church, now St Patrick’s, were within the normal fifteen-minute suburban drive. I continued to commute with Will Nusser to the Westwood building while I remained with the NIAMD.

We led a pleasant and typical suburban life on Flint Rock Road, a place which was much more modern than the home where Fred and Wilma once resided along with their neighbors, the Rubbles. The Thybergs were as much fun as Barnie and Bette and our fireplaces were reserved for making popcorn rather than roasting haunches of a mastodon.

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