A Second Blast from the Past
Tammy figured out a way to change the banner on the blog. We took pictures of the photos shared by a woman who grew up in this house, which was in her family for over 50 years. Then we made a montage of our digital images of the photos, which were not high quality. We found some interior shots, but we could not confirm which were from the house, as we have not had a chance to meet with the former owner. Regardless of quality, the pictures are fascinating.
Mary started cooking for the family when she was only fourteen years old. Child labor laws were obviously lax in those days! She lived in the cookhouse, which was her little home on the property. She stayed with the family many years and is buried somewhere in the city. The exterior shot is of Mary heading into the backyard.
The cookhouse is in sad shape, but we have no plans to demolish it. Vandals spray-painted the Plexiglas window with "Death to the DEA" on the outside. On the inside, they hit the mother of all cash registers and the woodstove with more death threats. Steve cleaned out the cookhouse earlier in the week, but had no place to put the trash because the dumpster was full. The company replaced the dumpster today, and we would not be surprised if we filled it again.
We never mentioned what happened to the cash register. Last Saturday, when Steve finally emptied the carport of all its treasures, he left it plus a box of Barbie dolls with unusual haircuts, a box of miscellaneous stuff, and the smoke-o-rama. We should have taken a picture, but it looked like something from an Art Deco nightmare: a metal floor stand with garish decorative do-dads and three ashtrays at the top that sell on eBay for peanuts. We probably should have consulted Antiques Roadshow first, but the smoke-o-rama was so ugly—it just had to go! The cash register went first. Within two hours, a burly guy asked if he could take it off our hands. To our astonishment, he heaved the whole thing into his truck without help! The smoke-o-rama disappeared later that day. By Labor Day, the Barbie dolls and other junk were under new management.
Mary started cooking for the family when she was only fourteen years old. Child labor laws were obviously lax in those days! She lived in the cookhouse, which was her little home on the property. She stayed with the family many years and is buried somewhere in the city. The exterior shot is of Mary heading into the backyard.
The cookhouse is in sad shape, but we have no plans to demolish it. Vandals spray-painted the Plexiglas window with "Death to the DEA" on the outside. On the inside, they hit the mother of all cash registers and the woodstove with more death threats. Steve cleaned out the cookhouse earlier in the week, but had no place to put the trash because the dumpster was full. The company replaced the dumpster today, and we would not be surprised if we filled it again.We never mentioned what happened to the cash register. Last Saturday, when Steve finally emptied the carport of all its treasures, he left it plus a box of Barbie dolls with unusual haircuts, a box of miscellaneous stuff, and the smoke-o-rama. We should have taken a picture, but it looked like something from an Art Deco nightmare: a metal floor stand with garish decorative do-dads and three ashtrays at the top that sell on eBay for peanuts. We probably should have consulted Antiques Roadshow first, but the smoke-o-rama was so ugly—it just had to go! The cash register went first. Within two hours, a burly guy asked if he could take it off our hands. To our astonishment, he heaved the whole thing into his truck without help! The smoke-o-rama disappeared later that day. By Labor Day, the Barbie dolls and other junk were under new management.
posted by walking at
10:52 PM
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