Monday, February 10, 2014

The Old Homeplace

Sorting through old pictures, I found a photographic print of a painting done a few decades ago of my grandparents' house. The oil painting was reproduced onto postcard-size photo paper and given to family members.


I had actually forgotten I had this and am so very glad to find it.

It's not the place where my father and his siblings grew up. The house and surrounding acres were purchased after my grandparents' children had gone on to establish their own lives with wives, husbands and children.

But it's the house known to their grandchildren as we grew up. My grandmother died in 1960, my grandfather in 1963. Our maiden aunt lived on in the house until she moved into an assisted living high-rise in town at an advanced age. The house was sold and eventually torn down to make way for an apartment complex.

I often drive by where the old home place once stood and try to picture it in my mind's eye. If perchance I stopped and and listened carefully, I might hear again the sound of squealing children in the yard, or through an open window, my aunt and grandmother talking or arguing in the kitchen as they jointly prepared the midday meal -- the good cooking smells drifting out the open windows.

Going deeper and further back in my memory bank, the wicked chuckle of my grandfather resonates as he jokes with his grandchildren. A witty Irishman to the core -- tall, slim, and a full head of red hair that didn't gray until he was a very old man -- he liked nothing more than to tease his grandchildren. In a kindly, grandfatherly way of course.

I remember the time he gave me a plug of tobacco and encouraged me to chew it. I was about 5 years old at the time. My mother was not amused.

Or when I was 14, he teased and embarrassed me by saying the retarded boy in the village was my "boyfriend." Oh, he really got a rise out of me on that one!

He did love his chewing tobacco and I have a picture in my mind of him and grandmother sitting before the coal-burning fireplace in winter, he chewing his tobacco, she dipping her snuff or alternately, chewing Wrigley's Spearmint gum, which she adored.

Our gatherings there on Christmas Eve are a large part of my memories of Christmas Past. The feast on the long dining room table, the buffet full of delicacies such as fresh coconut cake, banana pudding and pecan pie. The cedar tree in the front room, bedecked with blue lights and silver tinsel and waiting for the gift exchange. Millinea leading the group in a round of Christmas carols after gifts were opened. Uncle James handing out sparklers and firecrackers to the children for entertainment on a cold winter's Christmas Eve. The ride home with Sugar Plums dancing in my head knowing that Santa Claus would soon arrive.
 I also found this photo made one Christmas. That's my sister and me on the back row.  Front row, from left, are cousins Debbie, Renae and Jeannie. That's David Earl trying to hide behind Jeannie.
In case you're thinking the above should have been part of a blog post at Christmas, I'll now reveal that summers there were best. 

The deeply shaded porch was a respite from the heat where we could lounge and read a book while beans were snapped by the adults. Or we might go to the gnarled old pear tree that stood at the back of the house and eat the juicy fruit until our hearts were content. 
If I linger long enough there on a summer day, I'll see Grandaddy sitting on the front porch, legs propped up on a red brick column, tobacco spit can nearby. 

The old dinner bell just outside the kitchen door once alerted field workers that it was dinnertime, but it was no longer in use during our childhood. Instead, granddaddy would call us to march inside the cool, dark house that always had a slightly musty smell to sit down and eat the big midday dinner Lela and Grandmother had prepared.

My little picture reminds me of all these things, and I cherish it.

20 comments:

  1. Time with your grandparents is some of the best, isn't it? I found myself trying to draw the layout of various houses, of my grandma & grandpa's, 2 of my grandmother's, the house I grew up in and still own in Oklahoma City. I have photos of the first and the last, but none of either of Grandmother's. I might give it a go when we're next in OKC to get some photos, though I suspect the houses have changed a lot. A painting is a brilliant idea and sharing prints of that painting even better. Happy memories mean a lot!

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    1. I am no good at drawing/sketching and admire those with the ability to do so. ai would like to have a painting of our house for the children.

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  2. Almost feel like I 'm actually there while reading this post. All such good memories that ended too soon. I love the old home place print and have it framed sitting on a chest . These memories grow more dear as we age! Thanks.

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    1. i too believe we think of them more the older we get. The memories sometimes become larger than the actual event Time removes any pain associated with the past.

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  3. Isn't it good to remember past memories from time to time? All of this being triggered by your little picture of what looks to have been a lovely home.
    I am always surprised how many different memories do return when you start writing them down. It is also a lovely record to leave behind for your own children and grandchildren.

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    1. It was so sad when the house started to fall into disrepair, which seems to happen with the owners become old and are no longer able to care for it.

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  4. What an attractive house your grandparents had - and such wonderful memories the picture evokes. The summers sound quite magical. I have similar memories of my grandparents house, five hours away, where we spent every Christmas. It was special too.

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    1. There is just something about kids and their summers, and the time spent at the grandparents houses. I hope to make memories for Katie at our house!

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  5. Dear Sanda,
    This is such a warm post. I loved reading about your grandparents old home.
    The old house looked so lovely with its brick faced fire place wall. and a large garden.
    I am finding, the older I get, the more I remember of my early days with my parents.
    very enjoyable Sanda.
    wishing you a good Tuesday. val xx

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    1. About that fireplace: they burned coal and the house had the coal fire smell, even in summer. It was not unpleasant, just unique. And such hot fires from coal. Sometimes my grandmothers lower legs would become red from extended exposure to the heat.

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  6. Lovely to read about your childhood and see the photo's that brought back the memories. What a treasure that someone painted the house and then had the prints made.

    Darla

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    1. Thank you Darla. Yes, finding the photo was special and it DID make me remember all the pleasant times there with loved ones.

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  7. Such an evocative post full of happy memories, you portray situations that drew one in so you can feel the family warmth.

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    1. Yes, happy memories, Judith. I had a previous post about my grandaddy telling us scary stories, about "Old Bloody Bones" and the like. He was quite a character.

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  8. i love old family photos. one of the saddest things i see are boxes full of old photos at antique shops. none of the family is left to want them, i suppose, but it seems a lost history to me. i like seeing people attach their stories to their photos like you have done here. sweet :)

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    1. You are so right, and you see that all the time in antique and junk shops. I once saw a complete wall covered with old b&w photos that were purchased by the boxfull in a junk shop. It was such an interesting display, something I'd like to do as well.

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  9. I´m glad you found the picture.
    Writing stories seems just natural for you. Writing about your past, remembering the childhood happenings, reveals that you had a happy childhood. You remember so much, and what you know only partly, you search out.
    You will not have a dull future : )!

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    1. I do love to tell my little stories! I believe it was a very happy childhood and I know I was lucky that way. I remember so much, sometimes just little insignificant tidbits. Things made such an impression on me when I was young.

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  10. Your post reminded me of all the places I used to live at, all the places I called home and the happy memories attached to them.
    As Mette said, it's a post that is a living testament to the rich & happy life you've had :-) maybe an inspiration for another quilt?!

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    1. Oh dear, another quilt.... But what an interesting quilt...making a quilt of one's life. But would be want to include everything??? Probably not. HAHA

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