What do I call it?

“Loft,” ‘library,” “museum,” “he-shed” or “time-out space” might work, but I still haven’t decided. The new space above our former garage is so simple, useful and beautiful that all kinds of labels apply.

Betsey and I love our Arts & Crafts bungalow, where we’ve lived 28 years. In a city beaming with historic architecture, our home, built in 1920, was once the youngest honored with a plaque from the Providence Preservation Society.

We were partially attracted to this abode because of its similarity to Prairie-style homes designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, who spent a few of his childhood years in Pawtucket but, sadly, built nothing in Little Rhody. In 1946, he did receive a commission from William and Eleanor Slater for a relatively modest home in Warwick, but the young couple decided when construction was about to begin that they could not afford such a luxury. Wright’s response to the Slaters? As the couple once told me, “You’re young enough; go out and earn the difference.”

Molly and Michael spent most of their childhood years in our delightful home, walking to and from the former Alperin Schechter Day School at Temple Emanu-El. Yes, sooner than later, we could have benefited from a larger home, but we felt so comfortable – if not privileged – to inhabit such a harmonious yet distinctive structure.

Once the kids departed for college, our home seemed to grow larger, but Betsey and I kept acquiring beautiful things, including furniture, books, paintings, sculptures, and family heirlooms. Mysteriously, our home also seemed to grow ever smaller.

One simple solution might have been limiting new acquisitions to essential needs. But what is more essential than beauty, learning, and comfort?

Betsey and I always hoped that the RISD Museum would become seriously interested in our collection of Mexican folk art, for example. It would quite logically complement its fine collection of modern Latin American paintings and sculptures. We also approached some other wonderful art museums in New England, but no curators have yet been able to see with their own eyes what is so profoundly simple and joyful.

Meanwhile, we continued to give away books to some favorite school and college libraries as well as our Temple’s magnificent Braude Library.

Fortunately, over many years, Betsey and I toyed with various color schemes, added a tile mural in the kitchen, remodeled a bathroom, and made several improvements to our diminutive front and back yards.

Betsey and I happen to be friends with two architects, a married couple who live across the street. About two years ago, Mark Hallee asked if I wanted to take a walk with him to see a home that he was renovating. No changes were visible on its exterior, but its vast interior looked entirely original.

Then I asked Mark if it might be possible for him to redesign our detached, one-car garage, which stands at the back of our narrow driveway. “Of course,” was his reply. The problems became finding an experienced contractor, agreeing on a budget and then completing construction within a reasonable amount of time. Far from easy tasks!

Fortunately, these creative and practical feats were completed in September of 2023, and Betsey and I are now savoring Mark’s wonderful vision. Betsey is not only delighted by having much more space. She sees and hears so much less of me!

For better and worse, there were several municipal restrictions on what we were allowed to build. There could not be an apartment, for example. For that matter, not even a bathroom or a kitchen. Thus, I tend to occupy my new space for only a few hours at a time.

The first floor consists of a large storage space for patio furniture, tools, paint, and grandchildren’s toys. There’s also a dramatic stairway with gallery lighting that leads to the second floor. The tall windows on the addition’s north and west sides provide wonderful views of our own home and some neighbors’ as well as towering trees. In addition to an extensive system of artificial lighting, there are skylights high above the western and eastern sides.

What, you may ask, is missing from this solitary enclosure? Well, quite a few things – at least for now. No table, desk, cabinet, computer, TV or refrigerator. There are two leather easy chairs and a wooden armchair. Betsey and I are also quite fond of carpets from many corners of the world, so there’s a large, brightly colored Turkish kilim beneath the easy chairs.

But this new space is overflowing with other treasures: an almost countless array of large and small books, sculptures, paintings, prints, and liturgical objects displayed on dozens of built-in, wooden shelves. There are also scores of pots and ceramic toys that our kids made in classes at the JCC. Further, there are numerous family mementos that once belonged to our grandparents, parents and other dear relatives.

There’s also a beautiful bouquet of dried flowers from a neighbor’s sumptuous garden. But who would need a mirror? The entire space reflects our family’s lives and values. Indeed, they are also documented in nearly a hundred, brightly colored photo albums!

Yes, my new loft, library or museum can be a perfect place for me to tune out the world and take a nap. But it is also a place to sit quietly and ponder our family’s good fortune.

This, I believe, is a holy place – my Beth-El – for it makes me ever more thankful for countless blessings. In many unforeseeable ways, this new space – small but glorious – has become my sanctuary.

Unlike a pharaoh, I did not need to build a pyramid to transport my plunder into another world. My blessings, evoked three-dimensionally, abound right here! Yes, I am profoundly grateful, resting within my humble, soaring, and peaceful abode.

GEORGE M. GOODWIN, of Providence, is the editor of Rhode Island Jewish Historical Notes.