house on dirty third - peachtree-online.com · thirty-third street, i couldn’t believe it. mom...

Jo S. Kittinger

illustrated by

Thomas Gonzalez

When I first saw the house on

Thirty-third Street, I couldn’t believe it.

Mom had said starting over would be an

adventure, so I’d imagined a tropical

island with palm trees and buried treasure.

Not this.

All the houses in the neighborhood

were old and rundown, but ours was the

worst. I called it the house on Dirty-third

Street.

Mom said to look at our new place

through eyes of faith.

I tried. I helped her clean it out and

we fixed up what we could. Eventually,

though, even she got worn out and

discouraged.

And that’s when I had to try to

convince her to have faith. And ask for

a little help…

Jo S. Kittinger’s powerful story of

revitalizing a community and believing

in a dream is perfectly complemented

by New York Times bestselling

illustrator Thomas Gonzalez’s

stunning artwork.

978-1-56145-619-2 $16.95

JO KITTInGeR

moved frequently

while growing up,

and once had to rebuild after a house

fire, so she can empathize with those

who have to start over. She has pub-

lished numerous books and other items

for children. Her nonfiction picture

book, roSA’S BUS: THe ride To Civil

riGHTS, was awarded a Crystal Kite

award in 2011. She lives in Birmingham,

Alabama. www.jokittinger.com

ThOmaS GOnzalez

was born in Havana,

Cuba, and moved to the

United States as a child.

An artist and painter, he directed

campaigns for clients and illustrated

the New York Times bestseller

14 CowS for AmeriCA. He lives

in Alpharetta, Georgia.

www.tomprints.com

PR

INT

ED

AN

D B

OU

ND

IN S

ING

AP

OR

E

ISBn-13: 978-1-56145-619-2ISBn-10: 1-56145-619-5 $16.95

Children’s

www.peachtree-online.com

Th

eh

OU

Se

On

DIR

TY

-Th

IRD

ST

Re

eT

KIT

TIN

GE

R / G

ON

ZAL

EZ

“It’s perfect,” said Mom.

“It doesn’t look perfect

to me,” I said.

“It’s perfect because we

can afford it.”

House on Dirty-third-jacket-PRINTER_Layout 1 9/21/11 12:25 PM

Dirty 3rd interior-PRINTER:House on Dirty Third 10/21/11 2:50 PM Page 1

For Ken and Michelle Blackwood and

everyone who lends a hand to help people

improve their lives—J. S. K.

Published by

PEACHTREE

PUBLISHERS

1700 Chattaho

ochee Avenue

Atlanta, Georg

ia 30318-2112

www.peachtre

e-online.com

Text © 2012 b

y Jo S. Kitting

er

Illustrations ©

2012 by Thom

as Gonzalez

All rights rese

rved. No part o

f this publicat

ion

may be reprod

uced, stored in

a retrieval sy

stem,

or transmitted

in any form o

r by any mean

s—

electronic, me

chanical, photo

copy, recording

, or any

other—except

for brief quot

ations in print

ed reviews,

without the pr

ior permission

of the publish

er.

Art direction

by Loraine M.

Joyner

The illustratio

ns were creat

ed in pastel, c

olored pencil,

and airbrush o

n 100% rag wa

tercolor paper

. Title is

typeset in DJ G

ross by SD Fo

nts; text is typ

eset in

International T

ypeface Corpor

ation’s Cushin

g Book

by Vincent Pac

ella.

Printed in Oct

ober 2011 by T

ien Wah in Sin

gapore

10 9 8 7 6 5 4

3 2 1

First Edition

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication DataKittinger, Jo S.The house on Dirty-Third Street / written by Jo S. Kittinger ; illustrated by Thomas Gonzalez.

p. cm.Summary: A mother and daughter work to turn a hopeless, rundown, and dirty old house into

a loving family home with hard work, faith, and the support of their new friends and neighbors.

ISBN 978-1-56145-619-2 / 1-56145-619-5[1. Buildings--Repair and reconstruction--Fiction. 2. Home--Fiction. 3. Neighborhoods--

Fiction. 4. Neighbors--Fiction. 5. Faith--Fiction.] I. Gonzalez, Thomas, 1959- ill. II. Title.

PZ7.K67152Ho 2012[E]--dc23

2011020458

Jo S. Kittinger

illustrated by

Thomas Gonzalez

To my wife Noni and daughter Nina,

the two people I love and admire the most,

and to the “Fernández Family House” for

your awesome help—T. G.


Mom said starting over would be an adventure,

so I imagined a tropical island with palm trees and

buried treasure.

Not this.

Dirty 3rd interior-PRINTER:House on Dirty Third 10/21/11 2:51 PM

All the houses on Thirty-third Street

were old and run down, but the one with

the For Sale sign was the worst. I’d call the

whole place “Dirty-third Street.”

“It’s perfect,” said Mom.

“It doesn’t look perfect to me,” I said.

“It’s perfect,” she said, “because we can afford it.”

“Try looking at it through eyes of faith,” said Mom.

I squinted and tilted my head. “It still looks horrible to me.”


Soon the house on Dirty-third Street was

ours. But before we could start moving things

in, we had to move trash out.


A neighbor watched from her front yard.

“Hi there,” Mom called out to her. “I’ve

hired a man to take a load to the dump.

Is there anything you’d like to add to our

trash pile?”

“I don’t know...” The woman sounded

like she hadn’t trusted anyone in years.


Before long, Mom and I were wrestling

an old sofa from Mrs. Huddle’s porch

to the curb.

By the end of the day, word had spread.

The pile in front of our house became a mountain.


The bathroom was so filthy it made

shivers run down my back. “It will look and

smell better when it’s clean,” Mom told me.

So, all day Saturday we swept and scrubbed.

I was dog-tired and grouchy.

Clearing away the trash and dirt just

made it obvious how ugly the place truly

was. “This house will never look good,”

I mumbled.


“You may be right,” said Mom. She

sank to the floor in the corner. ”What

was I thinking?”

I slumped down beside her and

leaned my head against her shoulder.

“Remind me,” I said. “How did you see it?”


“I saw a pretty white house with blue shutters,” she said.

“There were flowers on the porch. The windows sparkled and

curtains danced in the breeze. The kitchen was full of friends

and I smelled cookies hot from the oven.”

Mom’s eyes got dreamy looking. Then she shook her head.

“I miss our old neighborhood,” she said, “and my friends from

church.”

“We can make new friends.” I stood up and dusted myself off.

“I saw a church a few blocks away. Let’s go in the morning.”


After breakfast we walked to the

church. In Sunday school, the teacher

asked if anyone had prayer requests.

“We just moved here and our house

needs lots of work,” I said. “I don’t

want Mom to cry any more. Please

pray that she can still see the house

with eyes of faith, and that I, somehow,

can see it that way too.”


Not long after we got home, I heard a knock at the door.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” a man said when Mom opened the door.

“At church this morning I heard you could use some help around here.”

Mom was showing him the broken bricks on the porch when

Mrs. Huddle walked across the street. “Thought these might cheer

things up,” she said. “Once upon a time, my flowers used to bloom on

near about every porch in this neighborhood.”


Mrs. Huddle started

transplanting the flowers into

an old cement planter in the yard.

A few minutes later, a car pulled up.

Next thing I knew, a whole family was heading our

way, including my Sunday School teacher and a girl my age.


“Welcome to the neighborhood,” my teacher said.

“My husband’s a great handyman.”

The man took one look at the peeling paint and

then pulled out a cell phone. “Let me get a few more

folks over here,” he said.


By the next weekend, our house looked

like an anthill. Men on the roof hammered

shingles. My new friends and I scraped peeling

paint. A lady fixed loose bricks on the porch.

Another neighbor worked

on the plumbing.


The sun settled behind our house and

the workers took a break. I opened the

door and the smell of cookies, hot from

the oven, made my mouth water. Finally

I could see it—our place, as Mom had—

through eyes of faith. We had found our

perfect home.


And somehow I knew that I wouldn’t

call it Dirty-third Street anymore.


house on dirty third - peachtree-online.com · thirty-third street, i couldn’t believe it. mom...

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