Renting Rooms has Given Center Point Woman All the Company She Desires

CENTER POINT - Behind the front door and in the living room of a typical three-bedroom ranch house, Ilene Whitney sits by herself in an easy chair, her electric wheelchair just a stand-up-and-pivot away. At the moment the television keeps her company.

But Ilene, 93, doesn't like to be alone. Never has. So, when her husband, Leonard, died in 1978 she opened up her heart and her home.

In the nearly 34 years since, Ilene has never been lonely. She has rented rooms to teachers and future doctors, to children of friends and complete strangers, to girls who have stayed a few months to a man who stayed 17 years.

In all, Ilene has rented rooms to 72 people. And she remembers each and every one, as they remember her.

"Everybody that's lived here comes back to their home," Ilene says with a huge smile. (Above, she holds a picture of a former tenant.) "Every summer I'm bombarded with my family."

Today, an emergency room nurse and a health caregiver live in upstairs bedrooms, sharing the living area and bathroom with Ilene. In the remodeled basement, brothers Reggie and Sam Reicks live in the two-bedroom apartment.

"I get hugs," Ilene says with that big smile. "I get a pile of hugs. That's why I like men better than women, but I don't want to marry them."

Ilene and Leonard (right) married in 1934 when she was just 16. She was born the second of 10 children to Marie (Bruchbuhl) and Herman Enabnit.

"My parents both came from Switzerland. We couldn't speak English until we went to school."

Ilene tells of the Hardscrabble School teacher who slapped her wrist with a ruler so she'd understand. Of babies kept warm on the open door of the wood-burning oven. Of rolling up the linoleum and dancing all night until the cows had to be milked. Of being so poor her parents couldn't put gas in the car so she could go to high school.

"I knew I'd be rich," Ilene laughs, "when I could buy a head of lettuce in the winter."

She and Leonard prospered through hard work, owned farms near Prairieburg, raised three children, retired to an acreage before moving to this house in 1968. One night a decade later, after playing cards, Leonard felt ill and died that morning of a heart attack.

Alone, Ilene recalled a childhood fear, that the boogeyman would get her as her father had teased.

Within two weeks a knock came at the door. Julie Koranda, who worked for a dentist, heard Ilene might have a room. Julie stayed seven years.

"That started it," Ilene says. "I've never been alone since."

A teacher came next. Then a school custodian, young farmers, a beauty operator, plumbers, music teachers ...

"I've never had a Swiss," Ilene says, referring to her heritage. "I've had Bohemies. I've had Catholics. I've had a priest and, not at the same time, a nun."

Sometimes, when a tenant couldn't pay the full rent, she'd have him do chores. One borrowed $500 and paid her back. Another who talked her into cosigning a $3,000 loan, skipped the state.

"I write him a ‘love' letter (by email) every week," Ilene smiles. "He knows I remember him."

For 40 years, Ilene has sold advertising and written for the Linn County Newsletter. Health problems, including heart surgery, though, have limited her mobility. And she knows that, like her husband, she's likely to die of a heart attack.

"Here today, gone tomorrow. Whatever," Ilene says. "I enjoy life every day."

Comments: (319) 398-8323; dave.rasdal@sourcemedia.net