Stories

Down remote gravel roads,

up hill and dale,

 

beyond corn and soybean fields

 

...here it is. 

 

This beautifully dilapidated 1830's Greek Revival home. A "project" as Ken would call it.
 

Obviously well-loved at one time,

  

it's a wonder it still stands today.

 

The house was moved by the state to its present location back in the 1970's to accommodate a new road going in. When they moved it they put it on a brand new foundation and replaced the roof.

 

I'm here today to sift through the remnants of the three generations of folks who once lived here. They were tenants the entire time and at last count the landlord charged them about $180 a month for the privilege of living here. The house has no indoor plumbing and no kitchen. It does however have a beautiful curved chestnut staircase leading to the second floor.

The most recent inhabitants - a man and woman. The wife was an antique dealer who died in the 1970's, the husband was a retired farmer and tinkerer.

It appears the wife loved Christmas,

  

and beautiful things. 

 

Pottery,

 

lamps, mirrors, paintings and furniture.

She also had a thing for beautiful linens. Each doily, napkin and tablecloth was meticulously laundered, starched and pressed and stored neatly in plastic bags which were then stowed in Victorian dressers. And the books, oh the books...history, literature, local history, children's books. These were folks who loved to read.

The crowd at this auction was sizable with antique dealers, hobby auction goers and curious neighbors all wanting a little piece of the history of this place and the people who once lived here.

 

Of course when you dig deep, you find there's more to the story of this house and the folks who lived here. After the wife was dead and gone, the husband continued to accumulate things just as she did, only without any intention of selling what he brought home. Along with the previous generation's treasures he added box upon box, piled so high and so deep that the upstairs was soon no longer inhabitable. He shut it off and lived downstairs, eventually setting himself up in one tiny little corner room. The boxes were stacked so thick it took a crew of eight an entire week just to get a glimpse of the interior walls of the house. It was all still there - beautiful silk screened wallpaper, wide plank floorboards and thick proud Greek Revival moldings.

The man was the last in his family, so with no one left to take over the lease,
the house began to acquire other tenants.

  

He died alone and it was weeks before he was found.

 
I've always been drawn to old things because of the stories they hold.
I think this old house still has the best ones left to tell.