Photographs and Memories

Friday, the family and I headed out to East Texas to visit with my grandmother. I think the last time I posted about her, my mom and I had just helped her move back home after being in a nursing home/rehab center for nearly 4 months. Well, she is doing much better, but she has decided that it is time to move. Over the next few months, she (with the help of family and friends) will be packing up and moving to a place near my parent's house. The new place is a good thing, but I can only imagine that it has been a difficult decision for her to make.


The house she will be leaving, is a house that was built by her father, my great-grandfather. He built the house in the late 1930's. It's physical description is quite unique. It has stone walls instead of the typical clapboard siding found in this part of the country.




Under the gables, the siding is decorated with broken glass. It's very unusual, but it's beautiful glistening in the sunlight reflecting various hues of amber, blue, and green.



The stone walls were decorated with a few special items, especially the area near the front door.



A few of the special items were things my grandmother collected as a child when my great-grandfather took his family on a cross-country trip in the 1930's. I think the seashells were collected at Seaside, Oregon. I love that giant sand dollar on the lower right.



Granny told me the fan in the bottle was made by a hobo in the 1920's. I am awed to think a man carved/whittled this fan when Calvin Coolidge was in the Oval Office and it is still just as eye-catching today as it was back then.



She told me she wasn't sure where the antlers came from, but she said my grandfather told her the small stones on the left were the family jewels. The long piece under the antlers is a piece of petrified wood.



But with all it's unique physical qualities, what makes the house truly special are the memories of days spent there. Five generations of the family have either lived there, or spent time there. Five generations of birthdays - five generations of anniversaries - five generations of Christmas and Easter holidays - and five generations of plain old every day memories.


A memory my grandmother shared with me is one of the house being filled with the scent of fresh apples. Her parents would buy them and try to hide them in the weeks before Christmas, so the children would not find them before Santa could deliver them on Christmas morning. She said she dreamed of apples because the smell was so lovely and sweet.


I remember my dad telling stories about sleeping on the porch and the almost-famous "china berry incident." The porch is significant because, he has told stories of sleeping underneath piles of quilts on the screened-in porch and being able to see his breath when he woke in the morning because it was so cold. The "china berry incident" has grown to near tall-tale proportions. It's his account of the time his "mean and wicked" older sisters (my dear, sweet aunts) "forced" him to pick china berries from a tree in the yard, then promptly shove them up his nose. However, I have my doubts about the accuracy of the tale, because my experience with Dad says he is not one to be forced to do anything.


My childhood memories of the house include Christmas memories with the family gathering in the living room and singing Christmas carols together with Granny accompanying us on the piano. And after we sang, I would sit in my Granddaddy's lap, while he and Granny read the Night Before Christmas story. Another memory I have is sitting on the bed in Granny and Grandaddy's room listening for the train, and when it would pass I'd get all excited and run to tell Grandaddy the train was coming. We'd watch the train out the window and count the cars. I also remember hunting for eggs left by the Easter bunny, sitting on the front porch swing watching the cars go by and waving to everyone who passed, climbing and playing on the swing in the magnolia tree out front, and singing hymns with the family around the piano. I remember when I was convinced my visiting great-uncle was Jesus ~ because he had a beard.


Days, perhaps even weeks or months, have been spent preparing meals, washing dishes, calming crying children, hanging laundry, nursing the ill and wounded, cleaning the floors, and eating meals with family in the house. It has weathered scorching summers, beautiful East Texas fall foliage, the rare, but stunning winter snowfall, and the picturesque Narcissus blooms in spring. It's been a community landmark, a home for family, a bed and breakfast for guests, a warm meal and friendly conversation for visitors. But, perhaps it's most remarkable quality, is that it has given us the most precious gift of all, wonderful memories of time spent with those we love.