Approximately six months ago, while I was reminiscing about the highlights of a half-century in the three-bedroom ranch, I began thinking about the possibility of doing a gathering of the people who were connected to the house. It wouldn’t be a party to celebrate a great feat. After all, many people live their entire life in the house where they were born. In fact, a few of my neighbors moved into their houses before we arrived on the street.

I kept the idea to myself because I thought most people would think it was strange, but then about two months later I knew I would have regrets for not recognizing the house that had seen so much. Within the first few years a new baby and several foster children had become part of the household. Later, more foster children and many short-term and two long-term exchange students came for a while. We enjoyed the six-week visit of a niece from Arizona and our North Carolina grandson’s annual weeklong stays. Who could forget the holiday dinners with my sister’s and my husband’s brother’s families from Pennsylvania. Over 30 years of Christmas Eve open houses took place after the candlelight service at church. Our house kicked off an annual leftover dinner one December 26th, with another local family and it went on for well over a decade. Meetings for Randolph’s first and second After-Prom Parties happened in our living room in the late 80s/early 90s, with a shortened version still taking place 35 years later. For a period of time, five neighborhood women exercised with me for many weeks on the living room floor while two toddlers, one being mine, played in a playpen in the dining room.

I hosted five annual slumber parties in that house. We stayed up all night eating and laughing while doing a variety of activities, such as playing “Name that Tune,” going on a hay ride, mummy wrapping, getting an etiquette lesson, an opportunity to get body piercings by a “professional” who used paper punches, staple removers and other various tools and whatever other silly idea I dreamed up. Year after year, my remaining four aunts and my cousin would come for Aunt’s Day. One year we treated them to a day of pampering with back massages in the front bedroom, foot massages in the back bedroom and healthy meals at the dining room table where my husband served as the Maitre d’ complete with a white towel draped over his arm. I planned local outings other years so my family could get a glimpse of my world, but we always had a meal at my dining room table followed by three desserts.

Many years ago, we hosted a couples’ baby shower for our next door neighbors. Early one December morning, I called neighbors and friends to invite them to a “Come as You Are” party for that evening explaining they had to show up dressed as they were when I called. Some of them embellished their nightwear. One couple arrived at the party wearing night shirts with her carrying a Raggedy Ann doll and Raggedy Andy was in his hands.

A painting of their house gifted to Fred Rowland and Beverly Kehe-Rowland by Harry and Cathy Uhl. The photo was taken by Tammy Johnson whose sister Sherry Lienhart drew the picture and their father Harry Uhl framed the artwork.

The one-acre yard surrounding the house held a swing set for a time where our kids played with the children of our neighbors. Our kids also rode away with their father on his snowmobile from that yard. Later my son rode his Arctic Cat Kitty Cat on the same acre.

The yard hosted the first two of 16 yearly street picnics, where the kids looked for coins and wrapped candy in a sawdust pile and used bed sheets to launch volleyballs over a net while the adults laughed and talked. There were many fires in the fire pit and s’more-making sessions for anyone we could wrangle in. It was fun watching one of two elderly sisters enjoy roasting a hot dog and hearing the man who greeted us every week when we took our trash to the compacting station, say more than once he was going to toast just one more marshmallow before going home. That same yard held classic cars and the overflow of 1950s-attired guests sitting at tables outside the two overhead doors of the barn. Inside those open doors was the late Sterling Pollaro impersonating Elvis near a DJ with a soda fountain a few yards away.

My second husband moved into that house when we returned from our honeymoon. I welcomed his son and daughter-in-law, as well as my children’s spouses and eight grandchildren.

Not everything that went on in the house and on the acre was fun and hilarious. My mother passed away in the middle bedroom. My first husband did his peritoneal dialysis while he slept in the front bedroom. He also broke a hip when he fell in the kitchen, just seven days after a foot amputation. There were many recovery periods from minor surgeries to kidney transplants after he returned from WCA, Hamot or Pittsburgh’s Presbyterian University Hospital. Weekdays during the last week of each month from January through June 1988 found me laying on the couch in the living room after each of 30 chemotherapy treatments.

God saw our family through it all while also providing the house to give us shelter and a familiar place to return to at the end of the day.

Beverly Kehe-Rowland’s husband, children and grandchildren join her as she recognizes the house where she has resided for the last 50 years.

When I shared with my daughter and a friend concerning my thoughts about hosting a day to recognize my home of fifty years, they encouraged the idea. I then told my husband and slowly started to invite a select few friends and neighbors who had a long connection with the house and had been inside many times. I invited two neighbor couples who actually watched the house being built and another neighbor of 40 years. I also invited a couple who had been in our home on Christmas Eve for three decades, women who had attended several slumber parties and other get-togethers and of course, all of our children, their spouses and their children.

Seventies music was quietly playing in the background as the guests arrived. I began the 3:00 gathering by reading a history about our time in the 53-year-old abode. One by one my family joined me in the order they were born or married into the family, as I introduced each one. Some were carrying a picture of the member who followed them into the family, if they were unable to attend. Afterward, many guests shared their memories. Harry Uhl, anointed the house before praying a blessing over it. Eight letters containing memories sent by former neighbors, relatives and our Italian exchange student, were read by various guests. A DVD containing photos taken inside the house and in the yard of 50 years of memories played while everyone ate the foods that were served to our family during each decade in the house. A little placard had been placed by each dish denoting what decade it was most popular with my family. Chocolate fondue was a thing with us in the 70s, Chicken Divan and Strawberry Pretzel Dessert in the 80s, Veggie Pizza and Watermelon Baskets in the 90s and Cowboy Caviar and Filled Croissants represented the two decades after the turn of the century.

Although the actual moving day was October 11, I set the event for a week later, due to my son’s and daughter-in-law’s plans for a vacation 2,200 miles away. As it turned out, their redeye flight was canceled and they arrived at my house two hours after the event began, but in time to eat and visit all of the guests.

We’ve been through a lot together, the two of us. We’ve heard laughter and we’ve heard crying. We’ve seen new life and we’ve seen death. We’ve seen many visitors, exchange students and foster children. We’ve celebrated many birthdays, anniversaries, surprised others with birthday and retirement parties and we’ve hosted after-funeral gatherings. We’ve heard the pitter-patter of baby steps and we’ve heard crutches tapping and wheelchairs rolling. We’ve seen many colors, including burnt orange, my favorite, and you never complained. We’ve seen beautiful days and we’ve seen tornadoes. We’ve seen old walls come down and new walls go up. We’ve seen peeling old exteriors and we’ve seen shiny, new exteriors. We’ve seen additions and we’ve seen subtractions, one by death and two by flight.

Happy 50th Anniversary, house. May we spend many more years together.