The Little White Cabin: So… there was this little white cabin.

It is nothing fancy. It’s quite simple. But I think that’s also what makes it so special. It is calm. Peaceful. Quiet.

... And this little cabin has given me enough inspiration to start a blog again. And I think for me, documenting a story is important. Maybe nothing will ever come of it, but maybe someday, someone will discover what was written - and find simple joy in it. I wish that I had some more history about this little white cabin – the kind of stories that go deep, and help the walls talk. I would immerse myself in journals, pictures, and memories of the past.

The funny thing is - it's our family cabin. It was built by my great-grandfather, Frank E. Fortner, in 1948 (his wife was Ruby.) It was the first of two cabins that were in our family, right next to each other. As the story goes, my grandma Doris (dad’s side) and her husband (John Frederick Wilkens) + two kids (my dad, John, and aunt Carol) were somewhat cramping my great-grandparents style, and were told to go “build their own cabin… over there.” And so my grandfather did, in 1952. So there were two family cabins, along the Salmon River: one white cabin, and one brown cabin – right next to each other.

The brown cabin brings back all sorts of memories for me – and it’s funny, as I haven’t thought about the depth in my mind, for years: Amazing Christmas vacations, the smell of fire & must, the sound of the river, a small play area upstairs, knotty pine, coloring books, old comic books, and absolutely no TV. We did a felt nativity story every Christmas… We worked on puzzles, went on river walks, built dams (when no one cared that you were messing with the fish habitat), found slugs, skipped rocks, and enjoyed mom’s wonderful breakfasts. For some reason, my dad “deemed” my sister and me old enough to make fires each morning, which was always a treat. I studied for college exams, built a Christmas train set with dad, played for hours in the playroom with my sister. We got stuck there during a “several day” power outage due to the ice storm one year, and I remember the candles, the fires, and dad working like crazy to get ice off of the roof and keep working to keep the pipes from freezing.

But even with my incredible memories, I am far removed from the memories of my dad, mom, and aunt, who could write a book of recollections up there. My grandpa carved around each river rock on the fireplace, with a handsaw, for the mantle. The railing on the balcony was a "W" for Wilkens. My dad proposed to my mom at the brown cabin, and my dad even knocked out a wall one “evening” when they realized it wasn’t going to be big enough for everyone (the addition turned out to be the “sleeping room.”) My mom remembers my grandma giving them the “luxury” of sleeping in – and being able to wake up to the smell of fresh coffee and music playing on the record player. We kept a book up there and everyone who visited would write in it – pretty cool, pretty special, because EVERYONE took time to write in it.

The brown cabin was sold in 2004, after my grandma passed away. Not an easy decision, but it gets pretty complicated with multiple families/generations are involved… and the upkeep isn’t easy when one sibling lives 6 hours away, and the other in Alaska.

So… back to the white cabin, which was purchased by my parents, when I was new to the world. As the records go, I think it was in 1972. My “savvy” dad used it as an investment – so it has been rented out since that time. And that worked out great because my grandma shared the brown cabin with ANYONE who wanted to stay up there (which I think was pretty cool – now that I understand the logistics of that.) So the brown cabin was the “hang-out” place. While staying there, my dad would always go over and work on the white cabin – fix issues, clean gutter, etc. Joe even helped my dad re-roof it one year.

In 1994 (I think) – the white cabin burned from the inside – but somehow put itself out (it was so air tight.) I remember it was my first year working at Intel, and my dad called me. Joe and I took the day off and went straight up there to see the damage. It was so sad… But, in the long run, I think it was a blessing, as it was completely re-done (plumbing, electrical, etc.) But its bones and structure remained the same: the knotty pine, old single pane windows, old river rock fireplace, and special river room.

This past winter (2016) it was time to make a choice. One that wasn’t necessarily convenient, in the plans, or financially sound. But it was the right time for mom to sell the white cabin (as it was intended – as an investment.) And while Joe and I knew there would never be a “right” time to purchase a second home, we both felt like we needed to keep this little white cabin in the family (and do so according to market value, to ensure we fulfilled my parents’ intentions as an investment for them.) And so on 1/13/2017, we became the rightful owners of the property.

This little white cabin is now officially our project – and “labor of love.” It needs a lot of TLC, as we were left with a renter who had let it go, over time. We were a bit overwhelmed when we first gained access to it (last weekend) – but the negatives were quickly overcome with “what will be.” We want to give the 5^th generation the opportunity to appreciate this place and make new memories. We want to share it (once it’s livable!) with others and reflect my grandma’s attitude about allowing friends to have access to all that it has to offer.

And remember, it is nothing fancy and it is quite simple. But something that I think even Samuel, Luke and Rachel understand. They cannot wait to get back up to “the cabin” even though their experience so far has been hanging out in an old, dirty, “tired” cabin. But what I see are some wonderful memories about to be made… family time that will go by so quickly over the next few years. I hope that we can help carry on the tradition of my great-grandfather and come appreciate this little parcel of property on the Salmon River more than we can imagine. And that the memories and traditions will become a part of our children – without them even realizing it’s happening.

I am going to try and keep up this blog and document our journey… it’s going to be awhile before we can turn it into a place that we can stay overnight. But I have a feeling it is a diamond in the rough and can’t wait to make some amazing new memories. And can’t wait to share it with people who have been a part of its story… or people who want to become a part of the “new chapter!”