These Old Houses
On my way back from Winston-Salem today, I decided to visit the homes of my parents as both children and adults. I wasn't sure that I was emotionally up to this tour but, ex post facto, I'm glad that I did.
Here is the little brick house in which I lived from age 1 until I went off to college. Built primarily by my father, his father and his uncles in 1947, it's located in Pfafftown, NC in western Forsyth County. After the death of our parents, my sister and I sold it to a fellow who rents it out. The present occupant is a pleasant deputy sheriff and her young daughter. Her mother asked if my mother liked flowers and I assured her that they were her joy. She thought so because so many of them still pop up here and there in the spring. It was really nice to hear that a part of your mother still lives on even though she is gone.
This is the house in which my father was born and in which I lived the first year of my life. (It's entirely possible that I was conceived here as well but I'm not certain because, at the time, I was still a little disconnected and didn't quite have it all together.) It's located just down the road from my parent's house.
My grandfather built this house, shown here back to front, in three parts. The back came first and was a former two-room school house. It consisted of the kitchen and "The Back Room" where my grandmother aged her wonderful coconut cakes and double-decker cookies. Then the center section -- always knows as "The House" -- was added, bringing the number of rooms to four. Finally, the "Front Rooms" were added. One room had a feather bed in which I loved to sleep and the other was a living room which was seldom used but you had to go though it to get to the front porch which was heavily used. No one except salesmen ever came to the front door.
I have many, many fond memories of this house and I had a great reluctance about going inside today for fear of destroying some of those memories. But, in the end, I entered through the back porch and instantly felt right at home even though the house is now in ruins. It was as if I had last been there only yesterday rather than decades ago. The house is mostly empty now but that little table on which my grandmother kept her churn for making butter from Brownie's milk was still on the back porch with its drawer still full of miscellaneous screws and nails and bolts still smelling of rust as they did half a century ago. Here in "The House" was the old couch unmoved and there, the coal grate from the fireplace that provided "central heating" until an oil furnace was installed in my grandparent's old age. All the people, of course, are long gone. Yet, I could still see them as clearly in my mind's eye and feel their presence as closely in my soul as if they were still there today. I'm glad I went inside. It was wonderful to be with them one more time.
Located in Smithtown, Yadkin County, NC, this is the house in which my mother was born. I have not been in this house since my maternal grandmother died in 1946. As such, I have no recollections from it and little attachment to it. The present owner was painting the front porch today and knew nothing of its history.
Here is the little brick house in which I lived from age 1 until I went off to college. Built primarily by my father, his father and his uncles in 1947, it's located in Pfafftown, NC in western Forsyth County. After the death of our parents, my sister and I sold it to a fellow who rents it out. The present occupant is a pleasant deputy sheriff and her young daughter. Her mother asked if my mother liked flowers and I assured her that they were her joy. She thought so because so many of them still pop up here and there in the spring. It was really nice to hear that a part of your mother still lives on even though she is gone.
This is the house in which my father was born and in which I lived the first year of my life. (It's entirely possible that I was conceived here as well but I'm not certain because, at the time, I was still a little disconnected and didn't quite have it all together.) It's located just down the road from my parent's house.
My grandfather built this house, shown here back to front, in three parts. The back came first and was a former two-room school house. It consisted of the kitchen and "The Back Room" where my grandmother aged her wonderful coconut cakes and double-decker cookies. Then the center section -- always knows as "The House" -- was added, bringing the number of rooms to four. Finally, the "Front Rooms" were added. One room had a feather bed in which I loved to sleep and the other was a living room which was seldom used but you had to go though it to get to the front porch which was heavily used. No one except salesmen ever came to the front door.
I have many, many fond memories of this house and I had a great reluctance about going inside today for fear of destroying some of those memories. But, in the end, I entered through the back porch and instantly felt right at home even though the house is now in ruins. It was as if I had last been there only yesterday rather than decades ago. The house is mostly empty now but that little table on which my grandmother kept her churn for making butter from Brownie's milk was still on the back porch with its drawer still full of miscellaneous screws and nails and bolts still smelling of rust as they did half a century ago. Here in "The House" was the old couch unmoved and there, the coal grate from the fireplace that provided "central heating" until an oil furnace was installed in my grandparent's old age. All the people, of course, are long gone. Yet, I could still see them as clearly in my mind's eye and feel their presence as closely in my soul as if they were still there today. I'm glad I went inside. It was wonderful to be with them one more time.
Located in Smithtown, Yadkin County, NC, this is the house in which my mother was born. I have not been in this house since my maternal grandmother died in 1946. As such, I have no recollections from it and little attachment to it. The present owner was painting the front porch today and knew nothing of its history.
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