Family has fond memories of famous 'pink house'

Dear editor:

In loving memory of my mother, I would like to let the good folks of Mountain home, know the other side of the story about the "Pink House," which is now known as the "Dusty Rose Inn."

I realize that wonderful, old home is now a place of business, but for 34 years before it became a business, it was the warm, loving, Christian home of my family. My brothers and sisters and myself have precious memories of growing up there.

I remember my Dad building a tree house in the huge, old mulberry tree next to the half-circle drive, for my little sister. He painted it pink, just like the house. There were beautiful, fragrant lilacs and roses everywhere.

The house was once on the tour of homes, in which the older homes of the city were being viewed. Sometimes, folks, thinking the big yard with its trees and flowers, was a little park, would sit down with their children and have a picnic. Mom would just let them stay as long as nothing destructive was happening.

Mom and Dad put in a lot of hard work keeping the grass watered and the lawns mowed, but they didn't mind as it was our home where we shared birthdays, Christmas's, heartaches, and joys together. I was the last to leave the "Pink House" with all it's precious memories. Everything was still in place, right down to it's original, gingerbread art work at the top of each gable.

I know, because I painted the house, myself, the old fashioned way -- a bucket of paint and a large paint brush. When I came to the gingerbread part, my ladder wasn't tall enough, so I duct-taped the brush to the handle of a broom, dipped it in the paint, and climbed up two stories, lifted the broom with the brush as high as I could, and that's how it got painted.

So when you see or hear of the "Pink House," please remember all the love, joy, and precious memories that wonderful, old, sweet, Victorian home brought to myself and my family. A place where good, old Southern hospitality was always given to friends, relatives, and strangers alike. All were welcomed.

Please think about all the hard work that my parents did, and the Victorian touch that my mother brought to life there while she was alive. I can see her now, sitting on the porch in the evenings, just relaxing after the day's end, enjoying everything around her.

Please remember these things, because I and my family sure do!

Connie Meksch and family