Over Under Or Through !

Amidst the plethora of treasures within this Bungalow,  there are remarkable mementos and memories from  "The Greatest Generation".  And, naturally, you will find World War II memorabilia is interspersed in the mix of the bounty too.

Quite unexpectedly, I came upon the most wondrous gift of all, yet this Holiday Season.

How glorious can you imagine anything to be as what was experienced in and of a discovery only last evening?   Allowing myself a bit of time to indulge in historical revery, at the Bungalow, I often browse amongst the memorabilia that had left its mark upon history in a large way. This particular night, I alighted upon history in the form of a WWII helmet resting, if possible, both stalwart and at ease upon a camp stool. Held within the heavy dull metal of the helmet, was a stubborn removable lining... which naturally intrigued. With no little difficulty, I was able to wedge the lining of the helmet from it's outer casing of the heavy metal where it had lain silent, for perhaps, years...

The heart skipped a beat or two and began racing as the decal revealed all of the world of glory to me by the glimmer of chandelier light. Gold with blue print, a red keystone and a black swastika on either side of a horses' head (be that the Knight?)

One can only imagine a brave soldier, a stranger, far away from home and longing for family.  Engaged in mortal combat for our country, he most certainly may have used this very helmet to rest his weary head before "falling in" early the next morning, for you and I.  Godspeed noble, brave, gallant,young, fine fighting men!

Soldiers of and in your youths, sailors of the seas, pilots of the skies, you are encouraged to reminisce, if it so pleases you.

Oh, Give Us A Home Where The Bungalow Roam!

Oh, Give Us A Home Where The Bungalow Roam and the skies are not cloudy all day!



Did I just sing BUNGALOW ROAM? I fear, yes.  Oh go on, scoff if you will!

As I wander around this Bungalow, Quite The Stir, right here in Gettysburg, PA and perhaps strain on tip toes reaching upwards whilst lowering the folding attic stair steps or mayhaps adjusting a transom here and sliding a wooden pocket door there...I find myself actually singing these words aloud. In my interaction with magnificent architecture, detailed arts and crafts and pure history, I find the beauty of music. It is my hope that by the time you've arrived at the end of this simplistic tale (and re-read, tweeted, face booked, whistled and woofered), you too will be singing along with us all the praises and beauty of the "Bungalow as she roams"...alongside all of America, and ROBUSTLY too!

It's rather nice to know Quite The Stir didn't make room, or give way to build modern day homes! No sir, the owners of this little Bungalow, past to present, held stalwart in the face of modern progress! How's that for a quotation? "Held Stalwart In The Face Of Modern Progress".  Thank you Gettysburg Springs Hotel, thank you Mr. MacPherson, thank you Orin, thank you John Knickerbocker, thank you Edith, thank you Mildred, thank you Robert, thank you Jolene. Me, Jolene, what? Why I'm just a 'lil ole Bungalow enthusiast gal!

Well, 'lil ole Bungalow enthusiast gals have been know to say, "HERE'S A BIG HUGE LARGESS OF TIFF TOFF GUESS WHAT?"  I didn't know it before, but after a year and a half of intense research, I now know "These historically preserved Bungalows are HOT PROPERTY" and I'm glad the temptation to resist change roared a bit here at 500 West Middle Street in Gettysburg, PA!

Historically preserved Bungalows are perpetually, being sought after more and more each day by historians, preservationists and enthusiasts of bungalows, arts and crafts and purveyors of the early 20th century!

Enough said, but, only after all that follows, (a jocular and hardy hi ho jab to the ribs on enough said!)

"Whether people are fully conscious of this or not, they actually derive countenance and sustenance from the 'atmosphere' of the things they live in or with. They are rooted in them just as a plant is in the soil in which it is planted."            Frank Lloyd Wright.


Frank, (I like to call him Lloyd, but that's personal) "my old compatriot in my dreams of architecture", I finally understand what you meant by that eloquent statement NOW although I'll admit,  the meaning alluded me for a while.   That statement rallies to remind me of much more as it relates to Quite The Stir Bungalow.  Once upon a time,  not too long ago someone once hazarded a query of  me, "Who, exactly, do you think you are?"  I now, unlike then, ponder the question and hestiate not! My response to that evah so bold question is  "Well, here is exactly who I think I are...among other adjectives, I am a Bungalow enthusiast!