The current generation of heirs has been mostly absent and the business of it is managed by one of three brothers who is several years older than me. His girls are cute as pie as is his wife and there's a son that I've never met. I think he lives in New York where all the financial action is. The elder Harry was a money man who made his fortune in Michigan but always returned to "the farm" once or twice a year to ride horses and hang out on the hill. His lovely wife Nan was here on occasion and all of their kids at one time or another. The history is almost a hundred years old, and so my house will be in 2018. The house at the end of the road was the showplace, nestled in the woods just above where the clubhouse was planned. It never happened, but the drawing remains intact, hanging in the bathroom that lacks one seriously cute chair. If I ever get the arm patched up I
Like my father, one of my brothers has taken on the duties of managing the farm that I call home. Every wooden door and all original windows are vintage and in terrible shape. There is a transom over the front and back doors which is cute but really? The storm doors won't even shut. The basement is clear and 9/10 of the garbage either burned or hauled. There are boxes on the front porch one of which is draped with a state of TN flag headed for the burn pile. At one time, I was proud to be a volunteer. Now? Not so much.
I sense an Oregon theme going on with my new friend Frankie posting a picture from Eugene and Nita and Dave moving to that state. One of my oldest work friends Ronnie lived and worked there back in the day and I remember watching the winter weather and thinking that I'd have to call in. Also my angel buddy Hoss lived in the state and I have always admired their progressive political climate. I met these couple of bar hopping guys from OR either before or shortly after Hoss came for a visit and was struck by the..uh. Whatever you call it when you get a hint early on.
When my youngest brother left for VA there was a parade about a mile long with both vehicles hauling trailers through West Virginia to their current home. The UPS guy who had serviced their home based business stopped by for his last pickup and we all stood in the driveway waving. He's the one who warned me that it was "the beginning of the end." And you know what? He was right.