🪑 THE HOUSE THEY KNOW

Park Place where I raised my Boys

My grandkids have never known me to live anywhere else.
This trailer—the one with the lopsided porch step and the hummingbird feeder out front—is just Grandma’s house to them. The place with cookies in the cupboard, blankets on the recliner year-round, and stories waiting to be told.

But it took a whole lot of life to get here.

💔 Losing Gary and Starting Over
Back when Gary died, we were in the process of buying a house. We’d put a down payment on it, but before the paperwork could be finalized, he passed away. The real estate agent gave me the money back—he didn’t have to, but he did. I like to think most people would’ve done the same. At the time, though, everything felt like a blur.

I don’t remember exactly how, but somehow I ended up with a double-wide on a big piece of land. Looking back now, knowing myself and how I deal with stress and money, I probably should’ve waited. But I didn’t.

The yard was beautiful—flower beds, a big lawn, and a quiet side road where the boys could ride their bikes without me worrying. For a minute, it felt like I was creating something solid. But as always, there was a “but.” That picture-perfect yard didn’t maintain itself, and I was too overwhelmed to keep up. I thought I was free—no one to answer to, no one to tell me no. But I wasn’t free. I was lost. And broke. I eventually had to sell the place, but thankfully, I broke even.

📦 Dreaming of Missoula
After that, we moved into an apartment. I found myself dreaming about Missoula, flipping through real estate magazines (because this was back before we had the internet). I worked for Keller Supply, and they had a branch in Missoula. It was still five hours from Fernie, but it was closer, and I thought maybe I could transfer.

💃 A New Chapter with Rick
Then one night, I met a man in a bar. We danced all night, and I gave him my phone number. To my surprise, he actually called the next evening. His name was Rick. He was from Missoula—the exact place I’d been dreaming of moving to. At the time, he was living in a fifth wheel on a job site with his brother. After a fight with Joe, he moved in with me.

Before I knew it, we were packing again. Rick had found a place in Kalispell. I couldn’t transfer with Keller, but Rick said there was plenty of work, so I quit. I followed my heart, not my paycheck. And honestly? Even with all that’s happened since, it’s the one decision I don’t regret. I believe moving here might have saved one—maybe more—of my kids’ lives. They were starting to get into trouble where we were. And while life in Kalispell wasn’t perfect, at least there were no guns involved.

🚗 Rent-a-Wreck and Reinvention
I needed work fast. I didn’t qualify for unemployment since I had quit. Job Service sent me to Rent-a-Wreck, and that started me down the path I’d stick with for most of my working life—car rentals and driving.

Eventually, they fired me. Which, weirdly enough, turned out to be a good thing. I cried when they told me. Through tears, I explained that I had no income to raise my boys. I asked if they’d consider laying me off instead so I could collect unemployment from Keller. To this day, I’m still not sure I deserved to be fired. Maybe I just hadn’t had enough time to learn the job. The owner agreed. Small kindness, big difference.

🏡 Our First Real Home
Rick, in typical Rick fashion, had already started looking at houses again. I still had a chunk of money left from Washington, and with Dad co-signing, we bought a house just a few blocks away. That’s where I raised my boys. That was the house of teenage chaos, backyard fights, and scraped knees.

While we lived there, I decided to go back to school and enrolled at the community college. One of the girls in my business class, Cheryl, got me a job at Avis. I also worked part-time at the college bookstore. I worked two jobs and raised three boys the best I could. Then Rick and I split up, and I had to sell the house to protect Dad’s credit.

(Did I mention I’m bad with money?)

🌲 The Swan Chapter
After that, I moved into a single-wide trailer a friend had. The boys were on their own by then, and Dar started nudging me to move to the Swan. Nudging me? No—she was relentless. She had a job for me—cooking at the youth camp. It took her a while, but she wore me down.

At first, I drove the 52 miles each way. Then Dar found me a double-wide trailer to rent. It was more than I needed, but the rent was right—$400 a month, which I could cover easily, especially with a roommate who paid me $400. For a while, I was doing well. I loved that place. I loved the quiet. I loved the work.

But then the camp shut down, and I was unemployed again. I got benefits for a while, but boredom crept in.

🛻 One Last Move
Rick and I had gotten back together by then, and he’d bought some property in Kalispell with three rentals on it. I landed another job at National this time, but I was back to driving the same 52 miles each day. Eventually, we moved into one of the trailers on the property.

That was 2009.
And we’ve been here ever since.

💭 Closing Thoughts
My grandkids only know this house. To them, this is where Grandma's always been—where the cookies live, where the porch creaks, and where they’re always welcome.

But for me, it’s more than that. This is the final stop on a long, bumpy road—a road full of starts, restarts, and stubborn hope. Proof that I kept going.

This house isn’t just where I live.
It’s where I arrived.

Wanda-ism: I thought I was just changing addresses. Turns out, I was collecting chapters.

Pull up a chair. I’ve got a story.