THE NARRATIVE ARC
After Years of Living in My Grandparents’ House, I Finally Find My Way Home
The steps were right in front of me
As the gray paint on my front steps has chipped away from years of weather and use, a vivid layer of red has begun to peek through.
When we moved into our house two decades ago, one of my first projects was to cover up the red concrete, which I found garish. I wanted our house to blend in with the rest of the neighborhood, echoing my childhood desire to fit in as an Asian American growing up in a nearly all-white community.
But rather than reach for the touch-up kit, I find myself drawn to the patches of red. The past—that of this house and that of the generations of occupants before me—is making itself be seen, and this time I resolve to scratch beneath the surface.
On one of my runs around nearby Lake Merritt, I take a short detour to the county records office. Poring through documents on microfiche, I piece together the list of owners of my 102-year-old house:
John & Dora Gatgens
Marie Gatgens & Emma Gatgens
Fred & Margaret Hartley
Thomas & Joan Doss
Poy & Toy Sin Yee
Paul & Margaret Yee
