My maternal grandmother was born in Minnesota near where Laura Ingalls Wilder began her story in Little House in the Big Woods. Mimi, as we called her, grew up in Des Moines, Iowa – I’m not sure when she moved there, but I’ve found records of her Minnesota family continuing to make crop payments to the Iowa family from the farm in Janesville, MN.
The story goes that Ferne (Mimi to us), moved to Los Angeles to get away from a jilted pursuer, but when he followed her to LA, she agreed to marry him so as not to look like a hussy living as a single woman in LA.
The marriage was not successful, though two daughters were the outcome. Mimi and her husband, a devout Irish Catholic, were divorced…during the Depression.
Without airing too much family dirty laundry…suffice it to say that the Catholic husband could not come to grips with the divorce and spent his weekend visits with the daughters begging them to save him from spending eternity in Hell because of his divorce from their mother. Suffice it to say, the daughters did not look forward to their “adventures with Dad”.
That’s the background to the rest of the story I’d like to tell today. Though Mimi conformed to the societal norm of marrying the man who proposed to her, she was otherwise an independent and determined woman. As a divorcé and the mother of two daughters, she took an office job in downtown LA with the County of Los Angeles. I recently found her application for the job. She did not graduate from high school and she had little to no prior employment history, but she got the job and she stayed with the County for her entire career.
Mimi and the girls lived in Watts, but she was determined to give them a secure life and she scrimped and saved until she could purchase a lot in Glendale on which she would build a house. As a single woman in the 30’s, she needed to have a male partner on the project and her brother complied. Likely, she also needed him to supplement her finances. I’ve found documents indicating she paid him back for a loan and she eventually owned the property and home outright.
So in 1939, Mimi purchased a lot, had plans designed, and built a 2 bedroom, one bath home with a garage at the back. It was on a suburban street in a developing neighborhood in Glendale. She planted an avocado tree in the back and a lawn in the front. My mom was 13 and my aunt was 11 at the time.
In the mid 1960’s as she was preparing to retire and travel the world, she decided to sell the house and move to a condo where she would have less maintenance to worry about while she was away. And that was that.
My sisters, cousins and I have memories of cold lemonade on the back porch and I also have a great photo of Mimi with her siblings on the same porch. I recently found a photo of Ferne and her “lady friends” in her living room. Likely they were work friends enjoying a celebration or lunch together.
And here we are in 2025, some 60 years after the house was sold. As we prepared for a celebration of my mom and dad’s lives, I found myself drawn to memories from my childhood and that brought me to wondering about Mimi’s house. So I google-mapped my grandma’s house and saw that it looked much the same today as it did in my memories. I wondered how it had changed and about the current inhabitants.
Since I am my father’s daughter, I decided that I wanted to visit the house and see it with my own eyes; sort of a pilgrimage, if you will. I bought a card and wrote a note to the current resident/owner. I explained who I was and why I was writing. I shared a couple memories and added the photos of cousins on the porch, Ferne and her siblings on the porch and Ferne and her lady friends in the living room. I included my email address on the off chance that the receiver might want to contact me. I bought a small plant and off I went to see the house for myself.
When I arrived, it was just as I remembered except for the color – it is now a beautiful bright and happy yellow instead of white. There were new plants down the center walkway to the front door and more plants at the sidewalk. Other than that…from the front yard – it was the same home; it was a beautiful sight to behold! I walked up to the front door, dropped the bag with card, photos and plant, took a couple photos on my way out and as I went back to my car, I felt a sense of comfort and closure. It was a full circle moment.
But that’s not where the story ends. The next day, as I was seated with family at my parent’s celebration, enjoying a plate of lunch, I checked my email. You know what I found – an email from the current homeowner. I read it aloud to my family, with a big catch in my voice. I could not have anticipated his response. And rather than “translate it”, I’ll just share it here:
Hi joyce, I was deeply moved by your letter. I have heard good stories from the grandson of the person who I believe bought this property from you, I moved here in 2009 . I’ve always wanted to move in to a modern house, but when I saw this one in 2009, I was immediately drawn to it for some reason. This wasn’t even for sale. When I walked in, I got the weirdest feeling . Till now, I cannot forget it. The moment I walked in the door. I felt as if I went home, as if I used to live here before., so I really pushed hard to get it even though it was quite expensive at that time. I have made a lot of changes in the house. Thank you for reaching out and for sharing your memories and pictures. I love this house.
So Mimi, your well-loved home is safe. It’s in loving hands and it’s appreciated. For over 80 years, your home has been a part of many lives though only three owners, which seems a bit unusual in today’s times. Your little house has been witness to countless celebrations, sorrows, and joys. And its journey is not done…
I am content to know that it will continue to be a place of comfort – a home for its inhabitants.
Thank you Little House Not in the Big Woods.
You are a keeper.
Can We? Will We? 