I’ve been scanning old photo albums lately, tumbling back into time as I turn each brittle page. Laughing faces, twirling girls, dogs that I almost recognize although they’ve been gone for over 100 years – and buildings that no longer stand. I’m lucky – the cousin that lent me this album to copy as part of my de facto job as family historian has a direct connection to my house – her grandmother was born and grew up here. So many of the black and white images feature my house as it was when it was new and just becoming a beloved homeplace. Many of the photographs are labeled, but then I turn the page and there is a single large photograph that seizes my heart and imagination.
I don’t know exactly the function of the central section but those are chicken houses to either side.
A handsome frame building, 1.5 stories high, with a front gable dormer, and shed roof chicken houses to either side – and I sigh. Where was it, and why, oh why, is it gone?! There’s even a gangly young tree outside of the picket gate, and I can easily imagine the pride the builders (and owners of my house) felt when they looked on this tidy scene.
My path into the past.
Although I don’t know for sure, the outbuilding likely stood on my farm, not far from the house. Alas, it is long gone – along with the cook’s house, the smokehouse, the privy, the pigsty, and the garage.
Another lost building – the original garage. The circular drive is still intact.
I’ve had these albums since January, when I scanned all of the loose photographs not affixed to a page. Then time got away from, and with our annual family reunion looming in a week, I am scrambling to scan, crop, and label.
The first little girl and boy to grow up in my house. Image circa 1912-1913.
We haven’t had a reunion since 2019 due to the Pandemic, and I have no idea how many far-flung cousins will turn up. But as I read through scraps of paper, with family stories jotted down, and look at these faces, I forget the stress and the toll that the preparations are taking on everything else I am supposed to be doing – because this matters. I am thankful for the historic photographs, and this tangible link to the past. Maybe someone, someday, will read this post as they prepare for the reunion, and wonder what sort of person I might have been…
Interesting story. I would love to have pics of the old houses that I grew up in my youth!
How absolutely wonderful….when Mike and I lived on Mackville Rd near the Shewmaker farm, I would drive by and remember it as it was when I was a child. Shewmaker Lane runs to the west of the house where Grandma’s orchard was…all the outbuildings are gone except for the smoke house…..Grandma Shewmaker had more energy than anyone else I have ever met!!!
Oh, how I love this! And how I loved getting to spend time with you and see this wonderful place.
Yes, old photos of structures give “structure” to historic events in the way that words do not….too bad there are not many photos until the 90s. Every one of them is a treasure!
What you are doing is so worth it! Future generations will appreciate the time you took to preserve the past and your children will too🎉