I enjoyed Sydney Stevens' article about the Ned Osborne house. I really believe she has surpassed her uncle Willard Espy as a writer.
I have a special attachment to the house, having been born in the upstairs bedroom Oct. 18, 1935. My sister, Alberta, followed me a year later. I'm not sure, but we may have been the only two to have been born there. Our sister, Roberta, was born a year before me, but died at 18 days old. She is buried in the family plot in the Oysterville cemetery. I don't know if she was born there, as well.
Some of my most vivid memories of the home are of bath night when Mom would fill pails of water from the hand pump at the kitchen sink to heat on the wood stove before pouring them into the galvanized tub in front of the stove.
It seems that the primary hazard of living there was the traffic. The S-curve in the narrow gravel (or oystershell) road just south of the Nelson home caught many an unwary driver. If they made the first turn they often didn't make the second turn and ended up in the adjacent slough. Some of those who made it through both curves would loop around the Nelson house and end up in our front yard. My father, Carl Andrews, placed the front yard off limits as a play area and eventually tore down the picket fence so he wouldn't have to keep re-building it. I do have some photos of me in the front yard with the picket fence in the background.
I stop to see the old house whenever I visit Oysterville, and it now looks better than I ever remember from the years I lived in town. I'm glad to see it so well maintained.