Don't build the American dream, renovate it, and other advice for budding home preservationists

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Since January 2020 when Sara and I moved into downtown Hershey, Pa., we have faced challenges of our own making and others we could not have anticipated.

We gutted the kitchen immediately upon moving in and the full bathroom a year later; Covid caused both projects to last much longer than we had planned.

We knew we would have to hire a plumber and an electrician, but we didn’t expect to have to replace the cast iron sewer stack and so much outdated knob-and-tube wiring.

But what has surprised me more than anything is how hands-on I’ve become and how much more confident I have grown with each new project.

I enjoyed “This Old House” as a child, and I had painted many walls in two decades of home ownership, but I never envisioned I’d have such passion for operating a heat gun or a palm sander.

Now three years into the restoration of the home we dubbed, in tribute to Frank Constanza, “the place to be,” I feel sufficiently qualified to offer advice to others who might have trepidation about tackling a fixer-upper.

Sharing my passion

A freak rainstorm the first summer in our 1931 bungalow sent water through the front porch decking into part of our basement. One contractor suggested that the best solution was to tile the porch as part of an estimate with a $7,200 price tag.

I didn’t like the cost, but I especially didn’t like the solution. We wanted to restore our house to as close to its original appearance as possible, not take it in an entirely new direction. I knew there had to be a better, more cost-effective way.

And that process changed me forever. It inspired me to question professionals who, although they may have more building skills, don’t necessarily share my commitment to preservation or my eye for detail. And it empowered me to tackle work that I never would have countenanced before.

After conducting exhaustive research, I stripped and sanded away nine decades of paint from the porch decking. I rolled layer upon layer of liquid rubber and then paint upon that. We’ve had no leaks since and the porch is historically intact.

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I still need professionals for the big stuff, but I’m not just along for the ride, either. I hope I can inspire others to dig into an old home and make it better than it was when they bought it.

Be a steward: If these walls could talk, indeed. Imagine how many memories were made under our pitched roof across nine decades and even more owners. Sara and I are just the latest caretakers, and it’s our responsibility to be good stewards who help get our modest bungalow to the next owners, however long that is.

Of course, taking care of your property, whether it is old or new, is part of being a good neighbor and community contributor.

Do no harm: I sometimes lament how much work we’ve had to do, but most of it has been cosmetic. Even if some of it was simply benign neglect on the part of previous owners, we inherited a house that was remarkably intact.

The window trim throughout and the first-floor windows are all original, for instance. No one ripped out walls in favor of an open concept. It was painted shut when we moved in, but the transom over our back door is now fully functional.

Embrace the old: Floors creak. Sash cords are missing. Wallpaper remnants are visible under the wall paint. That’s called character, and I am accepting of those qualities just as I am of my graying hair and thinning dome.

Make a to-do list: I keep a list of projects we’ve completed and those that are to come. Of the latter, I frequently adjust the schedule based on conversations I have with Sara or in my own head. New knowledge, time and money certainly factor in. But this at once recognizes our achievements and keeps me from resting on our laurels.

Pace yourself: I originally thought we would be finished within two years, but I soon realized that it would take five or more. We’ve finished the bulk of the big stuff, but I have a full menu of projects for this year and next.

Let’s face it, you’re never finished caring for a home, nor should you be. But I took the past two winters off from hands-on work, restarting in March this year with the painting of the last two closets. I did some planning, too, obtaining quotes from several contractors to rebuild our front steps.

Celebrate little victories: It’s OK to sweat the small stuff, because a lot of small accomplishments go into a renovation. Getting layers of paint off a recessed sash lift might not seem like a big deal until you suddenly reveal the brass that had been hidden on five windows.

That’s progress and an essential part of the renovation process. If you make even minor improvements month to month, you will get where you want to be.

If nothing else, paint: Hands down, the most cost-effective home improvement is painting. And it can be transformative if done properly. If you’re new to painting, don’t be afraid to use painter’s tape. Always use a drop cloth. Keep a damp rag handy for any errant brush strokes.

Previous owners of our house weren’t always careful; some of the painting appeared to have been performed by a monkey on roller skates. I’m still trying to figure out how to remove paint from exterior red brick.

But that’s OK. We’re just starting year four of a five-year renovation. And if it takes a little longer than that, so be it.

It’s just a fraction of time in the life of our 1931 bungalow, for which we are the privileged current caretakers.