How it happened was difficult to recall. A simple task went awry. My wife’s decorative ceramic wax melter and nightlight, dislodged from its outlet. Broken pieces scattered everywhere. Melted wax deposited on floor and walls mocked previous good intentions.
That she took this bumble-fisted screw-up in stride, was a testament to the strength of our, now forty-years, plus relationship. We agreed on important things–decisions made from two perspectives. Four decades passed quickly.
Off on another trip to nostalgia land. Why was writing about childhood events like walking on eggshells? There was no intention of harm to the living, or to those no longer with us. Maybe because, I hadn’t been writing to please myself?
It took exactly twenty-two buckets, eleven trips to and from the well, to supply water for the laundry. Then, down to the basement, where a two-burner stove heated the water. The remainder, went in rinse tubs, for the Maytag wringer-type washing machine.
The white, clapboard-sided house was square, with a single chimney in the center of the roof peak. A front porch the full width invited visitors to sit and relax for a spell. Our dogs liked it, too. Especially during hot, dry summers. The southwest rear corner had a screened in porch.
Climb to heaven trees were on both east and west sides of the house. There was a tire swing on the west side. The east side tree was taller, easier to climb. And climb we did. A crotch about two-thirds of the way up made a terrific crow’s nest.
No sidewalks led to and from the front door entrance. Instead, wooden planks laid on the ground lengthwise, protected walkers from mud during the freeze-thaw cycles of late winter. A large, ceramic, hollow chimney flue liner section, laying on its side, served as a front step. As, in everything, form followed function.
Return visits to this “sacred” childhood place via Google Earth, only served up heaping helpings of disappointment. Few familiar landmarks could be discerned. Where was the big, red barn with the huge hayloft? The smaller milking barn by the house?
There were, now, two additions, one in front, and one in back to the little square, white clapboard-sided house. My memories were from 1958 to 1963. Crowded by today’s standards. There were only two bedrooms, one shared by three brothers, the other taken by my parents. My sister slept on a small bed in a corner of the dining room.
Two oil burning stoves, one in the dining room, and one in the living room heated the upstairs. A wood-burning stove in the large basement, supplemented heat during cold winters.
No doubt new property owners disdained the lack of indoor plumbing. Not to mention the discomfort of trips to the outhouse in both summer and winter. Can’t fault them for that.
itinerantneerdowell 