Big Dreams

Great Grandfather Lester lived in a big house on the corner of Floyd street and Springs Highway. I remember going there many times growing up. By the time I came along he lived there alone. Great Grandmother had passed on and most of the house sat empty and unused. Seldom did I wander far from the kitchen were he spent most of his time. It was a big old country kitchen with a coal stove for cooking and his bed was in the far corner of the room. Certain things are ingrained in my memory and that he had a heavy wool army blanket on his bed is one of them. If I close my eyes and think about it I can feel that fabric and how it felt on that bed. The smell of that kitchen was one of heat. It had a warm smell. I know that sounds weird but I can think of no other description. It was not an unpleasant smell.
On those rare times when I did wander the house I found it full of strange things. Old things ! There were spinning wheels and shoe makers tools. There were old books and magazines sitting in baskets or piled in a corner. There were jars full of old buttons. The other rooms always felt lifeless. It seemed to me that light didn't penetrate the old glass panes in the windows. The dust was thick and the curtains dark. The room he called the parlor had a big old bed in it and some antique looking medical equipment. I didn't know it then but it was the room that Great Grandmother passed away in.
At some point in time Great Grandfather had to leave this house. Circumstance s beyond his control forced this move. I think I was probably about twelve years old when that happened. It must have been a bitter pill to swallow for him. A lot of the contents of that house went to a local museum. Great Grandfather was reduced to living in a eight foot by fifty foot mobile home. To have to part with most of your lifelong possessions must surely have hurt. In August of 1968 he passed away in that trailer. I was fifteen and it was my first experience with death. I didn't handle it well.
Looking back I always wonder why I didn't talk with him more. The stories he had to tell must have been really something. Of course I do realize that back in the day people did not talk as freely about the past as they do today. The old folks left a lot unsaid. A hundred years or so ago that was the norm. We do not speak of the dead or speak of past mistakes. Children were to be seen and not heard. A child's' position was to listen when spoken to, and remain quiet unless asked to speak.
Many years after his passing I came into possession of some of Great Grandfathers belongings. A wonderful brass clock and old photographs. In the collection of old photographs there were some old postcards. One in particular aroused my interest. That postcard lead me to asking a lot of questions. The answers were not easy to get,but I believe I did. And the answer turned out to be quite a story.
The short story is this; Great Grandfather had a home on Floyd street. Great Grandmother Clara lived on the corner of Floyd and Springs Highway. When they were first married she moved into his house. He took out a mortgage on that home to purchase a wagon and horses. His plan was to run a taxi service. He called it the " Maidstone Taxi. " He thought surely there was a need for this service from the train station to the other sections around the town. This was in a time when the roads were mostly dirt. There were a few of those horseless carriages around, but he wasn't convinced that they would catch on much. They were quite expensive and a bit more finicky than horses. In the end he lost everything. His mortgage was foreclosed upon and he lost it. Great Grandmothers' father was a veteran of the civil war and highly respected in the community. This was quite an embarrassment to him. He subsequently gave his home to Great Grandmother . This was the house on the corner of Floyd street. The deed was in her name only and was never to be mortgaged or transferred to Great Grandfather. They were harsh stipulations but Great Grandfather had no choice but to agree. Eventually the house went to one of the daughters who sold it sometime in the 1970's.
One postcard led me to uncover this bit of history. Fascinating stuff.

                                                                           

Great Grandfather and his Taxi