I met Herman Dreisbach in February of 2003 when he was 88 years old. His wife of 60 years had died the previous February, and he was selling his house to move to Atlanta, where his son and daughter-in-law lived.
Once a tall man, Mr. Dreisbach’s upper back and neck stooped forward from osteoporosis; his slow gait belied muscles that had weakened with age and bones that ached.
Each of the three times I visited his house, the final time with the home inspector, I had small children with me. Unperturbed by youngsters touring his tidy home, Mr. Dreisbach comfortably chatted with them.
The last time we met, Mr. Dreisbach took my hand in both of his, and with tears in his eyes, he told me: “I hope you’ll be as happy in this house as we were.” He died nine months later.
I’ve now owned what we call Dreisbach House for over 20 years. My first three children spent the bulk of their childhoods in the home, and my fourth son was born there. Then, for several years, I lived with the father of my youngest two children in his home and rented out Dreisbach House.
No tenant kept the house as clean as I did. But I soon learned that messes can be cleaned and damages repaired. Still, my heart hurt when tenants were not gentle with the house.
Little expense was spared when a maternal uncle of Mr. Dreisbach built the house in 1909. The exterior walls of the home are two layers of brick, which is why to this day none of the stairs or floors creak. Like a manufactured cave, all that brick keeps the house, which has hot water heat and no air conditioning, remarkably cool in the summer and warm in the winter.
The Arts and Crafts interior includes quarter-sawn oak columns and panels, a fireplace with decorative tiles from a renowned turn-of-the-century manufacturer, multiple pocket doors and two original light fixtures. And because the home remained in one fastidious family for 94 years, it is in remarkable shape.
Dreisbach House shares a driveway with its next-door neighbor to the south. In 2014, I bought that house, too.
For more than 60 years, it belonged to Claire and Gloria Cressler. Claire had been a widower for three years when I first met him. Years later, he would die in my arms.
In 2020, I moved into what we call Cressler House. I decided to stop renting Dreisbach House when my most recent tenants moved out. I owe less than $8,000 on the mortgage and, like its first owner, that puts me in a position to remodel the home without sparing many expenses.
Now, a new thread will be added to the warp and weft of my byline throughout my years as a Beacon Journal columnist − the process of transforming my beloved family home, the Dreisbach House, into a jewel. These columns will include design choices and the progress of projects, but also the histories of the people who previously lived here, as well as my family’s history in these homes.
Column changes
I was hired in October of 2016 to write a parenting/family column for the Akron Beacon Journal. At the time, my eldest child was in college and my fifth (and youngest) child was in preschool. Those first years, I wrote mostly on parenting.
Letters from readers often compared me to syndicated parenting columnist John Rosemond. Older readers regularly complimented me on how similarly to Rosemond’s approach I parented, while younger readers wrote to say they admired how differently my parenting advice was to that of Rosemond’s. Go figure.
Throughout my time at the Beacon, I have often written columns that were pointedly political. In 2017, I explained why I, a mother of a child with Down syndrome, was opposed to the Down syndrome abortion ban passed by the Ohio legislature and signed by the governor. Just before that column ran, the Beacon’s editor told me I’d get a lot of negative emails over it, but also that he knew I could handle it.
I’ve gotten far worse emails since, particularly when I’ve written anything involving race. I know I’ve done something right when I’ve provoked the ire of bigots who take the time to let me know what they think − though rarely about what I’ve written. No, bigots like to deride me as a person and, almost always, what I look like.
Three of my children are now adults. The first two have multiple college degrees and full-blown careers. One is getting married later this year. My relationship with them all is understandably different than it was over seven years ago, and yet, two of my adult sons still call me almost every day.
As a result, the content of my columns has expanded to topics facing our community, which often are issues that directly affect families.
To best accommodate this array of storylines and opinions, my column has a new, and more appropriate, home in the print edition’s community section. Here, I can have columns that are political, others that are personal, and some that are the ins and outs of a major project.
I hope you’ll enjoy reading future columns as much as I will writing them.
This column first appeared in the Akron Beacon Journal on Sunday, January 21, 2024.
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