Going Through a Century in a Weekend

 

A few years ago, I came upon a suitcase that was stuffed with family memorabilia. I gave it to my brother to sort through. He was thorough and scanned many of the pictures and burned them to a DVD. I read all the letters before and hope he did too.

The other day, I got a package in the mail of family photos. These may have been some from the suitcase or others he found. His family is downsizing so what left my house is coming back.

Some of these rarities of times gone by maybe worthy of framing but most will just be fuzzy antiques of people who are no longer remembered. For photos are time capsules; reminders to those who were there or creations of stories to another generation.

Since this is the end of this branch of the family tree, may went into the bin to become the dust of history. Their vison will still remain in my mental photo library with no names written on the back.

Though it has been interesting to view an entire century of a family captured on film.

First, I am amazed that our family had a camera at the turn of the century. Just like electricity, telephones and automobiles, they were rare and cherished back in the day.

Second, I was surprised how many photos of my brother there were. He was the first born so I guess that was a cause of record keeping. Seems, along with letters written by hand in cursive script and mailed, books were kept with photos listing the years and ages of children to display for guest to view as family records, next to the family bible.

There are photos of my mother at age six in the backyard where the chickens roamed until the day, she was sent out to wring off their heads and watch their bodies run around until they realized they were dead. There are photos of her mother looking as glamorous as she could in 1922. Quite a catch for Mister Mac. There are photos of my father’s parents holding my brother. I never knew my grandmother from that side of the family for she died before I arrived. There are photos of my first birthday cake. 

There was a postcard of the Keswick Country Club where I spent my first years. There are photos of the McIver harmony singing sessions. There are photos of my parents getting married in Kansas in 1939.

There are photos of my brother in Boy Scout and Explorer uniforms giving the three-finger salute. He was very good at scouting and proceeding into the military. I followed but only have a photo of me being cute in a Cub Scout outfit. 

There is a photo of me standing beside our Mustang. I learned to drive in that car. I was a good driver, but had a lead foot. A moment in time. There are photos of my mom and dad at some convention or some sort of fancy occasion dressed to the nines opening accolades or gifts from said organization (usually silver platers or bowls etched with a description). My mother loved performing for the well-to-do and appreciated the attention while my father worked the room as employment.

There is a photo of the backyard of the Patterson house in the snow. It was early by the size of the bushes and parking lot. Snow would normally close down the city. We’d listen to the radio to see if the schools were open or not? There is a photo of me and my dad in the yard in 1968. It must have been posed because I don’t know of any conversation with my dad while laying on a hammock. 

There are a couple of photos taken in 1979 of my first wife that I don’t remember. She seemed to get along with my folks. A year later, we’d separate.

Photos of this century had to be processed at a Photoshop that mixed the chemistry and handed back black and white prints for a price. Photo reproduction became more advanced with color and everyone wanted a point-and-shoot camera. Polaroid presented the auto-developing print camera, only to be bypassed by the digital world.

Now everyone is carrying a camera (with video) taking selfies and filming every event of family and friends to post on social media for all the world to share. Uploaded images will remain in our data storage until a power failure and history will disappear forever.

MANSLAND

Due to a house full of roaming animals with little privacy, I moved out to Mansland. I had additional reading and writing to do for work. The cubicle layout at work offered no privacy, so I brought home all the notes I had to do.

A computer, printer, light and supply of beer would keep me going until I had to go in the house and crash. Some nights, morning would welcome me with no sleep. Other nights I slept in a chair.

When I first ordered the 10’x15’ cedar shed from Hanover Buildings and they sled it off the truck to the cinder block foundation, I had a power hookup with two outlets and an overhead light. I blew a few fuses until I added more powerful fuses. Along the line of having an electrical connection made to the new switcher panel, the line got cut. The solution was to run a l o n g extension cord from an outlet in the house, out the window, across the yard and into the door, then hook additional surge outlet strips to run the growing need for electronics.

There was no heat and only a window fan, so layers of clothing adjusted with the weather. When the roof started leaking, plastic covers protected electronics.

The idea for Mansland was to hold the bicycles and yard tools from the weather, but it turned into my studio/office. Tools went into toolboxes and the lawnmower went under the house. A desk was assembled for a computer and lamp and a television was mounted on the wall.

As more time was spent outside, additional items were removed from the house and placed within the walls of Mansland. Books, records, guitars, stereo and recording equipment were now at the disposal within reach at any moment powered by extension cords off of extension cords. Why this place didn’t burn down is a mystery?

Mirrors, pictures, bulletin boards were hung on the walls next to clocks, rakes and tennis rackets. A drawing board replaced the desk and cabinets replaced storage boxes.

A new roof with sky lights replaced the decay and a new electrical line was run from the house to replace the extension cord. A little heater was brought out when the gas was turned back on inside, but the window fan stayed for the summer relief.

There were so many tools, the Mansland shed got its own shed. Rolling tool cabinets sorted the vast quantities of screw drivers and hammers. A mini refrigerator was brought out being replaced by real appliances in the kitchen. 20 sheets of wallboard were brought out after construction and later knocked down and trashed. When the windows were replaced, the old windows were brought out for a possible art project that never happened.

Some of the cedar boards have been replaced and like any wood construction, there are always patches to be made. Still Mansland has held up pretty well through 40 years.

Some scientific study can hypothesize a diagnosis on why I continue to live in this shed rather than a 3-bedroom house with rooms to spare? My prognosis is one lives in one room at a time. This room has become comfortable to me, even as basic living as it is.

The big difference is I’m out in the forest. I step out on the deck and I’m in the woods. I can hear the creatures and view the dappled shadows indicating the time of day. This plot of land I’ve purchased was plain and boring until my wife decided to landscape. Then the original inhabitants had a safe place to be with nature as intended, and I was lucky enough to be with them.