“We
shed our houses in America as easily as a snail does his shell.” - Harriet
Beecher Stowe
My sister, Lauren, and brother-in-law, Brian,
bought their first house last week. It’s in Georgetown, about 20 minutes from
my grandparent’s house. We’re all thrilled, but we’ve been anxious about the
process. Lauren and Brian are first-time homeowners, so it is a big step. My
grandparents have also been nervous, but I just figured they knew everything
about everything—they are my grandparents after all. But, in the midst of a conversation
about home ownership, they said, “Well, we’ve never actually bought a house.” In
the back of my mind, I knew this; however, it is still one of those statements that
makes you burrow your brow, tilt your head, and say, “C’mon, that’s not really
possible, is it?”
But they’ve never gone through a formal
home-buying process. For a person like me, who has already lived in two
different homes as a child, three apartments in college, an apartment in New
York, an apartment with my sister and her brother-in-law, and now a house with
them—it’s mind-boggling.
As mentioned, my grandpa has lived on the same
property, except for a brief stint when he was attending Concordia College in Austin. Grandma
moved to San Antonio when she was younger, and her parents were still residing
there at the time of the engagement. It was tradition to hold the wedding either
at the home of the bride’s parents or at the couple’s new home. Since they
wanted the wedding and reception to be in Walburg, they needed to have a house
there. So, as Grandpa put it, it was, “Raymond, get your ass on the ball and
build us a house.” They needed lumber and materials. Raymond and my Great-great-grandpa
Max Mickan heard about improvements in the Fort Hood area military reservation,
where they were tearing down houses, barns, sheds, and even a church and a
tabernacle to make room for expansion. Grandpa and Max Mickan would go on the
weekend, look at the buildings, and put in an offer on the buildings, which
were listed by number. Max got a crew of farmers together that had time between
the seasons to tear the buildings down, pull nails, clean the boards, and stack
and haul the materials to Walburg. Grandpa drove the loaded-down truck. Ferd
Tonn helped Grandpa load, unload, and stack the materials for immediate use. They
also hired a carpenter named Herbert Lange to help.
Grandpa chose to build the house close to his
parent’s home and the family business, instead of out on a farm property also owned
by his dad, Daniel Mickan. The family business, Mickan Motor Company, had
become more of a priority than farming. With that, the house on the corner of
972 before you get to Walburg was born—readily accessible to church, school,
and work.
On their wedding day, November 24th,
1955, Raymond carried Ethel across the threshold—the same front door we step
foot in whenever we visit. That house is where they raised their kids, and where
all of them return to each year for holidays and celebrations.
