When I was very little, we lived in Biscayne Park, and we would go to visit my grandmother, Eunice, just a few minutes away in North Miami. Sometimes I would stay over at her house on Friday night and spend Saturday with her. I always loved spending time at her house. It wasn’t until I was a few years older that I found out that little North Miami house was actually owned by my mom, Joy.
It was the first house my mom bought when she was out on her own and working. During her childhood, the extended family all lived in one big house in Little River. While she loved growing up with her brother Hal and cousins, I can imagine it was also nice for her to get her own place.
When my mom graduated high school in the midst of World War II, she got a secretarial job at the air depot, with help from her Aunt Ruby. When the war ended, my mom switched to the private sector as an executive secretary for Sun Oil Company (Sunoco). She lived in Miami and worked in Port Everglades.
Although my mom earned a good salary, she was unable to sign a loan for her first house purchase. Why? Because she was a woman. She needed to have a man’s signature on the home loan. My mom didn’t marry till she was 36, so she was a single, working woman buying her first house.
Her uncle, Ruehl, wasn’t that much older than she was. He was the baby at the end of a long line of siblings, and she was the daughter of his oldest sister. So Ruehl and my mom were close in age. Her salary was actually higher than his. But he was a man, and she was not. So, Ruehl was willing to co-sign her home loan.
She must have been so thrilled with her new house. This was way before I came along. I’ve seen pictures and heard stories of cookouts at the backyard grill, a little bricked-in stove area with a cement patio under big old trees where the family often gathered. That must have been fun for my mom to host those gatherings at her own home.
The house itself was small, but inside it was quite spacious for a single woman. There was a front yard with walkway going up to a small covered front porch. Off to the left was a driveway into a carport, or porte cochere, as my grandmother called it.
The front door led into a living room. This was common in old Miami. No foyer; you just opened the front door and were in the living room, or front room as we used to call it (pronounced “frun-troom”).
Beyond the living room was the dining room that looked out onto the backyard. Living and dining were one big open space with terrazzo flooring. Off to the right were two bedrooms and a bathroom. Off to the left was the small kitchen with a door that led to the carport, making it easy to carry groceries inside. This was a typical layout of old North Miami homes.
Around the time I entered elementary school, my grandmother’s health started failing, so she came to live with us. She moved into my bedroom first, and I enjoyed having her as a roommate.
Meanwhile, my parents hired a contractor to turn our screened-in porch into a living suite for my grandmother. The renovation included expanding the size of our living room and kitchen and pouring a concrete patio with large awning out back.
With my grandmother settled at our house, it was time to sell her house. That’s when I learned it was actually my mom’s house. I remember being so surprised and proud to realize my mom had her own house.
I went with my mom to “help” her get the house ready to show. When a family would come to look at the house, I would entertain the kids while my mom showed the parents around. I enjoyed hearing my mom’s stories about the house and could tell how much she had enjoyed living there.
In the end, we found a good family that bought my mom’s house. The parents were kind, and the kids were fun and well-behaved. I loved introducing them to the neighborhood kids who were my friends. The house would be in good hands.
When I was older, my mom told me the story about purchasing the house and needing my uncle to co-sign. While I always thought that was ridiculous that a loan couldn’t be signed by a smart and hard-working woman, I appreciated how my mom didn’t let anything hinder her from buying her first house. Her story continues to inspire me not to give up when obstacles are in my way.
Exploring Generations 