How I Came to Settle in Farmington Hills

1980 was a very tough year for me. I had to helplessly watch my father succumb to the grip of cancer and slip away from me and the rest of my family. It caused me to reassess my place in this world and reconsider some of the choices I had made.

I had always loved history and valued antiques for their beauty, their craftsmanship, and for the story they held about the people and times that brought them into existence. I decided on the spot that I would rededicate myself to these values, and locate a fine historic home to restore, love, and live in. So, I contacted a real estate agent and asked him to help me find the old house of my dreams.

After a few days, he called to say he had a number of them for me to look at so we made an appointment to meet after work. The first house was a 1950’s 3-bedroom brick ranch in Farmington Hills, not much different than the Dearborn Heights one I was living in. I patiently let him show me all the rest, but they were all pretty much the same.

After returning to his office I asked to look through his multi-listing books. After a while I found a nice 1824 farmhouse in Romeo. I showed it to him as an example of what I wanted, but let him know I needed to live in the Farmington Hills area. He said “Oh, you want an OLD house”.

After a week or so, he called again to say he had two or three houses for me to look at. I met him at his office, and he started to drive me to the first one. I wasn’t paying a great deal of attention to the roads he took until I found that we were on a Mile Road, crossing Drake Road and beginning a climb up a hill.

All of a sudden, I had the overpowering feeling that I had been there before. I knew in advance that the house he was going to show me was at the top of the hill on the right. As we pulled in the driveway, I knew this was “Home”. It was a pre-Civil War farmhouse on more than an acre of land, and practically devoid of neighbors to boot!

I puzzled over why I felt as I did, and then it came to me. About 10 years earlier, I was riding in a car full of friends just before Christmas on an outing to a tree farm where one could locate and cut down their own Christmas tree. I paid almost no attention to the route we were taking when all of a sudden I noticed we were on a Mile Road, facing the Drake Road sign and starting up a wooded hill.

I noticed how very rural and peaceful the area seemed, and thought how nice it must have been to live there. As we emerged from the wooded area at the top of the hill, I looked to my right and saw an old farmhouse covered in snow and wondered what it must be like to call it home. Ten years later, I found out.

Needless to say, I bought the house and have had many happy years working hard on its restoration and making new memories there, including a new wife, children and some of the finest neighbors ever created. But more on that later.