How long does history last?
The Huguenots of Hanover County were still giving their children French names well into the twentieth century. I saw some of their graves today, next to an old plantation house up on blocks, dying slowly, with broken windows.
Should we mourn the plantation house? So many went through horrors to keep it warm, its larder stocked, its wood and silver polished.
What do we lose when we lose an old house? A woman stands at a second floor doorway, waiting to step into a missing wing, waiting to find out.
Showing posts with label edgar allan poe at the 7-eleven. Show all posts
Showing posts with label edgar allan poe at the 7-eleven. Show all posts
Disposable
I do not have a camera at the moment – I will buy one – but I need to take pictures right now as the old buildings, woods and waterways in my area disappear. If I wait until I can afford a decent camera, there may be nothing left to photograph but strip malls and townhouse developments.
When I was driving home late last Monday the old tin barn on my corner was still there. By two o’clock the next day it was gone. The trees and brush around it had been leveled, cut into pieces and piled in heaps for a truck to cart away.
So I went and got a disposable camera to take pictures of disposable history. First I took pictures of the black family cemetery on the hill overlooking the Chickahominy, just off Route 1. Then the ravine going down to the river. Then the stripped hilltop where the barn used to be. Old Telegraph Road. The creek behind where I live. These may all be gone soon.
When I was driving home late last Monday the old tin barn on my corner was still there. By two o’clock the next day it was gone. The trees and brush around it had been leveled, cut into pieces and piled in heaps for a truck to cart away.
So I went and got a disposable camera to take pictures of disposable history. First I took pictures of the black family cemetery on the hill overlooking the Chickahominy, just off Route 1. Then the ravine going down to the river. Then the stripped hilltop where the barn used to be. Old Telegraph Road. The creek behind where I live. These may all be gone soon.
Marsh
I’ve hidden it in a place where it will be found, but not for some time. A few years, perhaps longer.
The landscape is being stripped and leveled all around where I live. Soon, the woods on the other side of the road will be replaced by houses. The corner and two other sites near me on Route 1 have been cleared for retail development. This is the way it is and has always been. I have no illusions about the purity of the land. This road was once a major artery between north and south; it has been bordered by farms and inns since the 17th century, more recently by barbeque stands and motels. But things wear down, are abandoned and removed, and the land returns for a while to its dissolute ways.
Still, some places are harder to tame, even with concrete and steel. They’ll figure out how to do this eventually, when it pays enough to try. In the meantime, I have hidden the doll for the little girl who knows where to find it.
The landscape is being stripped and leveled all around where I live. Soon, the woods on the other side of the road will be replaced by houses. The corner and two other sites near me on Route 1 have been cleared for retail development. This is the way it is and has always been. I have no illusions about the purity of the land. This road was once a major artery between north and south; it has been bordered by farms and inns since the 17th century, more recently by barbeque stands and motels. But things wear down, are abandoned and removed, and the land returns for a while to its dissolute ways.
Still, some places are harder to tame, even with concrete and steel. They’ll figure out how to do this eventually, when it pays enough to try. In the meantime, I have hidden the doll for the little girl who knows where to find it.
The Slashes
Slash Church – not as in community center-slash-church, but Slash Church as the name of the place. On Mount Hermon Road, in Hanover. It is the oldest wood frame church in Virginia, where Patrick Henry once worshipped.
“Slash” because that is an old word for marshes. This part of Hanover County was half under water half of the year, a network of rivers and creeks and sinking land. Yesterday, as it turns out, was the anniversary of the Battle of Slash Church, as Confederates unsuccessfully fought back the Federals in 1862. I drove over to the church, which I had never seen. There is little evidence of historic significance, just a white wooden building with a newer brick building nearby.
Mount Hermon becomes Sliding Hill, my road, which ends at an excavated pet cemetery on Route 1. They’ve been removing the remains for the past few months; a restaurant will be built there. A lawyer for the restaurant company says the land is too marshy anyway for a cemetery – it is better to remove these beloved pets.
So they will build a fast-food restaurant on the site, and it will sink and settle like everything before it has, and the slashes will take back what it wants.
“Slash” because that is an old word for marshes. This part of Hanover County was half under water half of the year, a network of rivers and creeks and sinking land. Yesterday, as it turns out, was the anniversary of the Battle of Slash Church, as Confederates unsuccessfully fought back the Federals in 1862. I drove over to the church, which I had never seen. There is little evidence of historic significance, just a white wooden building with a newer brick building nearby.
Mount Hermon becomes Sliding Hill, my road, which ends at an excavated pet cemetery on Route 1. They’ve been removing the remains for the past few months; a restaurant will be built there. A lawyer for the restaurant company says the land is too marshy anyway for a cemetery – it is better to remove these beloved pets.
So they will build a fast-food restaurant on the site, and it will sink and settle like everything before it has, and the slashes will take back what it wants.
French Hay
I went looking for the road to our house, but the road had moved, or at least been broken into bits, with each bit set at a different angle. I could not follow it. It was the road that turned east at Yellow Tavern and went up through the Slashes, past the river and the winding creeks, the family plots sinking into the marsh. Sometimes small bones would wash out onto the banks, but we left them there. They were our father’s father’s bones, we thought, or maybe Indians.
I do not know why I left the house. I had a cough, I remember. I was in the kitchen, hiding from my sister. It was November and I remember coughing. Then I was outside looking for the road, only it was summer and the thistles were sweeping up around my legs as I tried to move forward.
The house faced south – we could look across the valley for miles. But it was not there, only traces of the driveway, I thought. Did it burn? Was my family somewhere waiting for me?
The sun was setting and the shadows were so long; I could not see much distance ahead with the low sun in my eyes. I turned my ankle in the marsh but kept walking. I had nowhere else to go. I passed an old wooden fence and came to another brook – Stony Run? I climbed down the bank to try to get my bearing -- I have played here so many times – and saw a bone glistening in the shallows. This must be home.
I do not know why I left the house. I had a cough, I remember. I was in the kitchen, hiding from my sister. It was November and I remember coughing. Then I was outside looking for the road, only it was summer and the thistles were sweeping up around my legs as I tried to move forward.
The house faced south – we could look across the valley for miles. But it was not there, only traces of the driveway, I thought. Did it burn? Was my family somewhere waiting for me?
The sun was setting and the shadows were so long; I could not see much distance ahead with the low sun in my eyes. I turned my ankle in the marsh but kept walking. I had nowhere else to go. I passed an old wooden fence and came to another brook – Stony Run? I climbed down the bank to try to get my bearing -- I have played here so many times – and saw a bone glistening in the shallows. This must be home.
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