Lester Green lets the house do the talking in this imaginative retelling of his family history in South West Arm.
Reprinted from Downhome, March 2019
by Lester Green
Side view of our old house showing porch. This porch was much larger before the arrival of electricity and running water. (Photo credit Lester Green)
My foundation was laid at Little Heart’s Ease, NL, in the early 1920s, on land given by William Jacobs to his son, Levi, and daughter-in-law, Susie. They had two children: Lewis and Jennie.
In the early years, wind whistled through me on stormy nights. Levi and Susie struggled to keep the draft out. They covered my floor with old newspapers and stuffed straw into my walls, while keeping the old woodstove burning. They
did everything to keep their family warm during the winter months.
I became darkened with sadness at the passing of Jennie in 1937. She caught tuberculosis. So many children died from this dreadful disease in houses around the harbour.
Levi (1897-1980) and Susie (1896-1960) Jacobs. (Photo courtesy of granddaughter Maxine)
Levi and Susie moved their family to Baie Verte in 1939, where he found work in the lumberwoods, eventually becoming a foreman. I lay abandoned for a few years. Those were my lonely years. There was no smell of kerosene or
flickering shadows of children on my walls. Youthful laughter had drifted away through the cracks. There was just darkness and silence during the night. I could only hope that some new family would find me strong enough to provide shelter to raise children.
In December 1948, happiness returned with the sounds of laughter and celebration at a wedding in the lane for Levi’s niece, Ollie Jacobs, to William Green of St. Jones Without. I could only wish that they would find me large and strong enough to raise a family. My hopes were soon dashed when they decided to live in St. Jones Without.
But luck was on my side when, a few years later, St. Jones Without became an abandoned community. Ollie and Will decided to move to Little Heart’s Ease with their three children. They bargained with Levi and Susie in 1953, and once again there were puffs of smoke billowing out of my brick chimney. My boards began to squeak again and children ran around, shouting and hitting my walls. I was overcome with joy.
Some of my floors were painted, while others were covered in canvas. My walls were plastered with the latest flowery patterns. My exterior even got a fresh coat of paint. I felt important and proud to be among the houses in the lane that provided comfort and warmth to a young family.
Five of Will and Ollie’s oldest children- Wayne, Mary, Doris, Hilda, Irene, and Lester.
As the family grew from three to 10, so many memories were being developed. Some of the ones I recall involve special times like Christmas. The kids gathered upstairs, peering down through the round hole above the wood stove hoping to catch a glimpse of old Saint Nick. The excitement the next morning of the children running down the stairs to get their stockings, to discover simple gifts like a small toy with fruit, candy and a bar. Everyone seemed so happy with so few things.
I remember when the roads arrived in the lane and the old tractor would clear the narrow path of snow. The vibration of the tracks hitting the ground would make my frame shiver as the children would peer out the windows at the plow.
The old woodstove was a gathering place on wintery nights. They would warm their feet by placing them on the oven door. Just before bedtime, several bricks were placed in the oven, removed hot, wrapped in a towel and given to the children as they marched upstairs. These bricks were placed beneath the bed sheet to keep their feet warm when they first crawled into bed.
How cold did it get? Well, let me tell you. Ollie would place the goldfish bowl in a wool cap and hope the water would not freeze. She would have to crack the ice in the morning and hope the goldfish survived. Her flowers were placed on the kitchen table during the night and placed in socks or wrapped in towels — anything to keep them from the frost. Sure, the children would write their names in the frost on my single-pane windows in the morning.
I remember the time the children brought home a lamb that they found frozen on the ballycaters along the shore. Ollie took the lamb, wrapped it in blankets and placed it on the oven door in the warm. You know, that lamb survived and was raised on a baby’s bottle. As the lamb got older it became a bit of a terror to the children because it would chase them and buck them to get food.
One of my saddest times with the Green family was in 1963. Little Glenise took sick and died on her way to the hospital. She was only 20 months old. They said she died of meningitis. It was a sad time in the lane.
Every Sunday during the summer months, Will would open the front door and sit at the old organ, peacefully pumping out old religious tunes. The sounds of “In the Sweet Bye and Bye” and “Oh Happy Days” drifted through the door and my cracks into the evening air. The serene religious music, mixed with the smell from the old lilac tree, gave the lane a mystical surrounding before the church service at the old Salvation Army Barracks on the hill. When the Salvationists gathered for service, sounds echoed off the cliffs of the harbour.
With the passage of time, the family left the nest and I was considered too old (I was only about 60). My owners wanted a modern house and I was again filled with silence. This time no new family would be moving in. I was taken apart board by board, post by post, beam by beam, until I was only a memory in front of the new house.
With the passage of time, modernization and smaller families, our usefulness had come to an end. Like many old homes in Newfoundland and Labrador, we provided shelter for larger families and served our time. However, like the Newfoundland pony that was replaced by the snowmobile, we were replaced by the modern homes that now overlook the harbours of Newfoundland and Labrador.
If this Old House Could Talk – PDF – Downhome Article
_____________________________________
Transcribed by Emily Seward, January 2022.
These transcriptions may contain human errors. As always, confirm these as you would any other source material