I like to visit places like antique shops, junk stores, and anyplace with rustic or well-loved artifacts from the past. I love them because they remind me of places from my memories.
Dying when I was only a year old, I don't remember Grandpa Alford, but his garage full of stuff lingered and I remember going into it with my Grandma.
My Grandpa Alford, also known as Dad Alford, was the kind of guy who wouldn't pass up a bent nail on the street. He would pick it up and put it in his pocket to file later in the appropriate container in the garage. He had an assortment of cans full of nails, screws, and scrap. Grandpa was a save-it-for-a-rainy-day kind of guy.
The "garage" was actually a former chicken coop moved from the farm. A lean-to had been added later. It was painted white with red trim, as I recall. I may have to check out some old photographs to confirm the color scheme. It wasn't really a garage, but more a workshop for Grandpa to hide in when my Grandma was on the war path.
Grandpa Alford grew up on a farm outside of Pendleton. His father died when Grandpa was only six, leaving behind his widow, several children, and a farm. The farm would eventually be lost during the early Depression years. His mother moved from each of her children's home, eventually living with her daughter, Nancy. My Grandpa left Indiana and headed west to North Dakota, where he would stay with his oldest brother, Duke, in a village called Denhoff.
I find it hard to imagine but my Grandpa worked on a cattle ranch as a ranch-hand. Riding horses, herding cattle, farming... I picture something romantic from the early 1930s, but ultimately I'm sure it was hard work. I spent two weeks in North Dakota. What a great state! Rolling fields, winds sweeping across the plains, the waving wheat can sure smell sweet... I couldn't do any better than Rodgers and Hammerstein. I'm not sure they raise wheat in North Dakota.
While he was working there, on a autumn hayride, maybe during Halloween, my Grandpa meet my Grandma. A few months later, they married. My mother was born on that cattle ranch near Denhoff. When she was six months old, the family came back to Pendleton to stay. During the war years, he worked as a handy man and farmed. I remember asking my Mother and Grandmother how they dealt with the Depression. Both said they had no problems. They had nothing to loose. They kept a big garden, rented from family, and lived cheap. As Mother said "We were poor but happy." I love those words.
I think it was during the Depression years that my Grandpa, like many others who lived through them, collected stuff just in case they needed it later. Use everything to its fullest. A concept that eventually lead to a packed garage.
So much stuff in that garage. Parts and pieces of old cars, chipped dishes, rusty nails, old magazines, iron scraps, Maxwell House coffee tins, unidentified parts and pieces of wood, glass jars, a freezer housing Grandma's yeast rolls for Christmas, an old trunk with a heavy-duty comforter storied in it...
My Uncle and Aunt live in my Grandparents house now. The garage is still there.
I loved going into that garage. It was a cabinet of curiosities to be explored by a young kid.
What great memories I have...
CSM
Dying when I was only a year old, I don't remember Grandpa Alford, but his garage full of stuff lingered and I remember going into it with my Grandma.
My Grandpa Alford, also known as Dad Alford, was the kind of guy who wouldn't pass up a bent nail on the street. He would pick it up and put it in his pocket to file later in the appropriate container in the garage. He had an assortment of cans full of nails, screws, and scrap. Grandpa was a save-it-for-a-rainy-day kind of guy.
The "garage" was actually a former chicken coop moved from the farm. A lean-to had been added later. It was painted white with red trim, as I recall. I may have to check out some old photographs to confirm the color scheme. It wasn't really a garage, but more a workshop for Grandpa to hide in when my Grandma was on the war path.
Grandpa Alford grew up on a farm outside of Pendleton. His father died when Grandpa was only six, leaving behind his widow, several children, and a farm. The farm would eventually be lost during the early Depression years. His mother moved from each of her children's home, eventually living with her daughter, Nancy. My Grandpa left Indiana and headed west to North Dakota, where he would stay with his oldest brother, Duke, in a village called Denhoff.
I find it hard to imagine but my Grandpa worked on a cattle ranch as a ranch-hand. Riding horses, herding cattle, farming... I picture something romantic from the early 1930s, but ultimately I'm sure it was hard work. I spent two weeks in North Dakota. What a great state! Rolling fields, winds sweeping across the plains, the waving wheat can sure smell sweet... I couldn't do any better than Rodgers and Hammerstein. I'm not sure they raise wheat in North Dakota.
While he was working there, on a autumn hayride, maybe during Halloween, my Grandpa meet my Grandma. A few months later, they married. My mother was born on that cattle ranch near Denhoff. When she was six months old, the family came back to Pendleton to stay. During the war years, he worked as a handy man and farmed. I remember asking my Mother and Grandmother how they dealt with the Depression. Both said they had no problems. They had nothing to loose. They kept a big garden, rented from family, and lived cheap. As Mother said "We were poor but happy." I love those words.
I think it was during the Depression years that my Grandpa, like many others who lived through them, collected stuff just in case they needed it later. Use everything to its fullest. A concept that eventually lead to a packed garage.
So much stuff in that garage. Parts and pieces of old cars, chipped dishes, rusty nails, old magazines, iron scraps, Maxwell House coffee tins, unidentified parts and pieces of wood, glass jars, a freezer housing Grandma's yeast rolls for Christmas, an old trunk with a heavy-duty comforter storied in it...
My Uncle and Aunt live in my Grandparents house now. The garage is still there.
I loved going into that garage. It was a cabinet of curiosities to be explored by a young kid.
What great memories I have...
CSM
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