Here is a poem written by Uncle Lonnie at the time Grandma and Grandpa Eldredge's house was being demolished. His sensitive observations seem to capture the happy memories I have and the longing I feel as I ponder this part of my past...
They're tearing the old Eldredge house down this week.
Memories come floating along the pathway as we speak.
The carpets are out and the floors are bare,
Revealing pioneer building traditions here and there.
It's a step for progress and modernization, some would say.
But those who lived in the old house still quickly tear their eyes away.
The old part and the new part are being exposed to view.
The work of Asahel Eldredge and of his uncle and other relatives appears to have
been really solid and true.
Skillsaws and electric tackers and drills were not in vogue.
The demolisher is the man with the machine, the modern day construction, or destruction rogue.
The old house was well built for its purpose and time.
Now it will exist only in mind, heart, stories, pictures, and rhyme.
The additions and remodels and garage that Asahel built will go down in a heap.
What a step for mankind, and for 6 new houses a leap!
A new road will probably pass over this very spot.
We will miss the majestic sight of the old white house and the garden plot.
Now starts the era of the Waters and Brigmans and maybe Petersons too.
Gone are the orchards and the pastures and gardens and the haunts where the
faith, hopes, and dreams of the six Eldredge sisters grew.
It's a pity in some ways but indicative of life, of course;
We are born to goodly parents and live our life within the framework of changing
circumstance and resource.
We should remember the good times when we reflect on the past,
and extend them into the present and future so that they will eternally last.
The big parties with the whole family were fun indeed,
The canning projects and the corn, bean, cucumber, and tomato planting and
picking and the parties to celebrate, harvest, and weed.
Asahel was a great leader and father and friend.
Catherine was a loving strength and a pleasant support and a unifying flgure with
an eye to house cleaning and fashion trend.
Music will still echo in family members' memories and dreams,
Along with friends and horses and cars and pets and likes and dislikes and
superstitions and phobias and irrigation streams.
Beauty, truth, light, and wisdom were shared in this old home.
The power of example and sweet experiences and prayer are a part of its legacy
and spiritual dome.
Its roots have extended and its branches and limbs.
Its leaves defended against evil seeds and errant pruning trims.
Bricks and mortar, wooden beams, doors, and the like,
Nails and plasterboard are all taking one last ride, along with old windows and
a rusted pipe or spike.
It was a castle and a shelter, a protection from the heat and cold,
A place for childhood fancies to flourish, a physical and spiritual pattern and mold.
An icon in the community is being torn down and hauled away;
But the home and teachings of your youth will still lost for many a day.
The memories of a wonderful father and mother and of growing up in the Granger
country setting have not been erased with this destructive deed.
The wealth of pleasant experiences will still guide, correct, direct, and lead.
We marvel at the workmanship and at the time spent in building and at the labor
of love. We thank our Father in Heaven for such a home, and for such wonderful
parents who are probably, even now, watching from up above.
“Those who laugh before supper will cry before the day is done."
But a good cry is good for the soul as well. Add some sweet meditation and piano
music and the spirit can soar and swell. Take a walk down memory's lane and enjoy
what you hear, smell, feel, and see.
Cover the bits of anguish and pain with pretty sheets, quilts, and blankets of
eternity. Pillow your head on the shoulder of someone you love.
Ah, there's a pretty flower and some alfalfa and clover and a beautiful pheasant
and mourning dove.
A house is a house until it's a house no more.
A home is forever a home with a family to love and on open window and door.
The trees will soon be gone and the asparagus patches and gropes.
The apricots, apples, and peaches are a pawn of memory masquerades,
masks and capes.
The driveway and the septic tank will be dug up and the drain fields out to the
west.
Let your minds dwell on only the things that you can cherish in peace as you rest.
The old wagon is symbolic of days gone by with its hardened rubber tires now
diastolic or systolic that creak and sigh.
From great Uncle Ash to Father Asahel and from dust to dust
There are bricks, windows, and sash, walls, floors, rafters, hearts, minds, and souls to
examine, refine, and adjust.
Lonnie Carlile Oct. 25-30, 1999
No comments:
Post a Comment