Someone literary once said, “The eyes are the windows of the soul.” Maybe, it was Shakespeare. Maybe, it was someone else — but no matter. The words are true. When speaking of houses in the same terms, it stands to reason that a house’s windows are the windows of it’s soul. Well… Of course!
A window says so many things — conveys so many messages. Because our house is so old, we can only imagine all the events that have been watched from those windows. Halley’s Comet, three times. Union soldiers, marching off to war. Redcoats, marching in for war. Lenne Lenape indians. Wildcats, boars, countless cattle and maids in white dresses. Porsches, Model A’s and wagons. Travois.
What kind of windows do you put in a house that has seen so much, yet keep in the heat and keep out that howling winter wind that whips down the valley? I chose Silverline, very pretty white vinyl windows with dimensional grilles and gas-filled panes. They look just like lovely colonial windows, only are absolutely air tight, and tip in for cleaning. Windows made by Anderson, that do all the exceptional things wooden Anderson windows do, only without needing paint.
I deliberated over this for quite a while. I’m in my early 50’s, still strong and limber enough to climb ladders and wield paint brushes, and wash buckets. How will I paint those windows in 10 years? In 20? And that is the reason I heeded the vinyl siren’s call. After feeling bad about another “unauthentic” choice for the house remodel, I thought a little about the Second Amendment.
The first Americans expressed their right to keep and bear arms by owning flintlocks and Kentucky long rifles, because that was the technology of the day. What guy from 1780, if teleported to today, wouldn’t say, “Oh, hell yeah!!!” if given the opportunity to take a nice Remington .270 rifle, or an AR-15 back in time upon his return? So I drank the vinyl window Kool-Aid.
And the ones installed so far… look great. Absolutely great.