If Walls Could Talk

Oftentimes while driving around, my attention is drawn to any old and deteriorating building or house I see.   A wave of sadness overcomes me when I think about how these structures were once teeming with life and activity and are now abandoned and forgotten, except perhaps for anyone still living who has a personal memory associated with them. 

An old general store building where neighbors once met to exchange news, talk about the weather and buy what meager goods they could afford.

This store was operated for many years by a man, and then his son, until about 8 years ago. Here you could buy food,  animal feed, electrical hardware and the like, tools and gasoline. They also prepared food and had "eat-in" tables. It was a "gathering place" where friends met friends.

This now abandoned general store has a personal association. It was built and operated by a great-uncle. And in later years, owned and operated by one of my uncles and then another. It was once a place where people filled their automobiles with gasoline, bought snacks and even bought their weekly provisions. 

Beautiful old brick work on the above building.

This old house is still occupied by 86-year-old Doris, who moved there in 1936, when she was 10 years old. She told me this when I knocked on her door a few days ago and asked permission to photograph her house.

This particular house holds special significance for me because it was here my father's family lived when he and my mother met. She tells the following story: She and one of her sisters and two of their friends heard the family that had moved into the house had four good-looking young men, so off they went to meet them (my mother lived just a short distance down the road). Upon being invited in and introduced to the boys, my mother said she looked at one and said to herself, "that one is mine." And sure enough, they began dating and eventually were married.

The beautiful old rock fireplace on the above house. Doris told me my father's family moved out one morning and her family moved in the same afternoon. She said there was a low fire still burning in the fireplace when they arrived. I wonder what was talked about as families sat around the fire on cold winter nights.

The entire front yard is covered with acorns from the huge oak tree, below, which grows alongside the road. 

I stood and stared at this old tree and wondered if my dad and his brothers had climbed this tree when they were boys. Did they do battle with the abundance of acorns that covered the ground?

Yet another old house -- this one unoccupied - with a special memory, as this is the  place my father's family moved into after vacating the one above. It runs deep and contains many rooms, certainly needed to accommodate the large family. There would have been 11 people living here in 1936: Parents, 8 children, 1 grandchild. My father walked 3.1 miles each way twice a week to see my mother, unless he was lucky enough to catch a ride with someone.

The ivy-covered fireplace on the above house. Houses like this hold  secrets from past generations; the walls within absorbed the joys, the laughter, but also the trials and tribulations of those whom they sheltered.

Our present day society prefers the new, the shiny, the modern look of affluence. Do you see beauty in old or abandoned buildings or consider them  an eyesore? Do you ever try to imagine the people who once occupied the buildings and what their lives were like?