An Urban Fairy Tale

An Urban Fairy Tale



In a transient town such as Ann Arbor, it often seems that the concept of a “local” Ann Arborite is a fairytale. This is a true tale. I was born and raised here. I even met my wife at the University of Michigan. Our fairytale home on the Old West Side came as a wonderful backdrop for a child’s story. At over 100 years old, the floors creaked. Actually, the floors tipped. The center rooms of the house changed elevation by about 2 inches for every 4 feet. Though the Historic Commission deemed there to be “no historical significance” to our home, we began repairing, renovating and expanding it.



With each new home improvement there appeared a surprise. At the time of our first major expansion, my wife, Kathleen, was running a pre-school program in our home. As part of that expansion, I put in a closet door under the stairs and adjacent to it, a child-size one to access the wedge of space there. Just to the right of the junior door, down in the baseboard, the kids discovered yet another door about 6 inches high. When it was open, one could see an equally small staircase and railing leading up to a second door. The upper door, as far as we know, is always locked. The children were fascinated and would report their sightings, including that of a Lion-Mouse!



After I built our fireplace, our daughters discovered one more door. It opened onto a room with its own tiny fireplace, and a curving stairway leading to a balcony sporting a door. There was yet another door leading off of the first room, which when opened, revealed a landing and a checkered floor beyond. A small window looked into the space from the end of the mantel. On some days, a light goes on in the far room. The day of the discovery our youngest, Delaney, shouted, “Look, it’s their trash day!” and held up a transparent plastic bag filled with sawdust and other diminutive construction waste. Our eldest, Samuelina, made an ingenious probe of two pick-up-sticks and a keychain light bound with rubber bands to explore the depths.



At the time our kitchen was remodeled, it was less surprising that a Lilliputian room was found below one of the new columns. This was a room with a double hung window giving a view of our breakfast area. In the room, there was a wee black chair with a red cushion, matching our human sized ones. Again, this room had another door leading to some unknown chamber, hall or space. At this time, Kathleen had been teaching kindergarten for several years, and on one of the annual visits I was asked, “Mister Wright - could you move the book case? I think they may have a door behind there.”



Recently, I heard muffled noises in the gabled end of the breakfast area. Squirrels? Mice? Birds? Super-chubby-sewer-dwelling Raccoons? I don’t think so. I am keeping my eyes peeled for Urban Fairies.

It’s all about building homes.

Of course, since this was written, the balconey with french doors appeared in that part of the breakfast area. ~jbw 6.08.06

Who am I and what am I doing here?

I am Jonathan b. Wright, a life long resident of Ann Arbor, Michigan. The following is a true story which gives a bit of history of the Urban Fairies.

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Kibehrs Place