The curtains look familiar as does the chair he's sitting in. Back then he lived in a little efficiency apartment at the corner of Main and First Street over what used to be the First Citizen's Bank. Across Main Street was Buchanan's Brothers Pharmacy; on the other side stood what is now in 2014 the Citizen's and Northern Bank. Kitty corner from the building stands the Coudersport Theater.
He liked to sit in the window and watch the world going by. He had a good view of Main Street as it ran from Allegheny Avenue over the bridge by Water Street.
He was born March 28th, 1917. Almost a hundred years ago.
He had a black toy poodle that he took everywhere that allowed dogs. Toward the end he didn't seem like quite himself if he was alone.
He was a 'pull-my-finger' kinda guy living in a house full of women. First my grandmother and his own three daughters; then us two granddaughters. Poor guy married a red-head. Really folks, does anyone ever really win an argument? No wonder he spent so much time at the Crittenden and Legion.
When we girls were young and our dates came to pick us up he called them all "George". Imagine his surprise when one of our dates brought a friend along whose last name was George. The look on his face was priceless!
A lasting memory of meeting him walking home along South Main toward the center of town while I headed in the opposite direction. He had the same little smile on his face you see now. I met him in front of the Catholic Church. In his hand he held a leash with that little toy poodle - the reason for his smile. I can't remember if the pups' name was Rascal or Sooner. What I do remember is the look of joy on his face when he looked at or talked about that little pup. It's a good memory and good memories should be encouraged, oui?
I mention the Crittenden and Legion above. Both drinking establishments if you're not familiar with the lay of the land in the old hometown. The former is actually the Hotel Crittenden - a grand old building that has recently been renovated and has an excellent menu and delightful staff. The latter establishment is actually the American Legion. Sorry, don't know what post number. Grandfather once told me that the people at the legion kept a watch on the vets who were alone and getting on in years. I vaguely remember a board by the entryway with hooks and coins that were red on one side and blue on the other. Supposedly you went there every day and turned your coin to the color of the day. If you didn't stop in someone was assigned to stop by your residence and make sure you were still breathing or if you needed help.
Yep. Small town life.
I remember seeing all his medals somewhere and am adding it to my list of research items [it's a long list] for when I visit the Historical Society. He was a Machinist's Mate 2nd Class, which according to Wiki was:
responsible for the continuous operation of the many engines, compressors, gears, refrigeration ... along with other types of machinery onboard ships and shore installations. They are responsible for the ship's steam propulsion and auxiliary equipment and the outside (deck) machinery."
Grandfather didn't speak of his service when I knew him. He chose to speak instead of flowers and gardening. He spoke of practical matters. I learned how to walk quietly in the woods, how to tell east from west and the time of day by the position of the sun in the sky. He spoke of poison ivy and oak. He taught me how to tell a buck print from a doe print and to look for 'tree rubbings'. Here is rabbit-print; there a raccoon. He warned me to never drink standing water and always move as far upstream as possible to get a drink. He even taught me what to do if I ever got lost in the woods.
He taught me how to ride a bicycle.
He wasn't all good; wasn't all bad. I remember weird, little things about him.
I remember seeing him fall asleep in his chair in front of the TV sometimes at night. Can of beer clenched in his hand and snoring loud enough to drown out the school band.
I remember watching him use beer to cook his morning sunny-side-up eggs in. A little sip for him; a little drop for the frying pan.
I remember how he loved eating leeks and horseradish. He and Howard Knight would go foraging in the woods and bring leeks home. Then Gran would make soup and we'd have to open all the windows the smell stunk up the house so much.
I remember he had a boil on his arm one time that was infected. And when it got ready to pop, we all found out that it wasn't really a boil, but an infected porcupine quill that had traveled up from his hand to his shoulder. Freaky.
I don't think he ever recovered from being almost ready to retire from the Tannery when it was discovered that the retirement fund had been embezzled. [i wonder whatever happened to those thieves. If any of you know - please message me.] That embezzlement effected so many town families. I haven't researched it yet, but I'm betting that when that money was absconded with the rate of domestic violence and alcoholism rose exponentially. That action killed a lot of dreams.
Can you imagine working in a factory like that for that many years? All the classes at Coudersport Elementary School toured the tannery. It smelled horrible. To see the hard, physical labor these men did day after day. I remember watching Grandfather balancing by the ponds of hides fermenting in who-knows-what kind of chemical. Standing with feet spread wide and a rod with a hook on one end grasped firmly in both hands so he could physically lift the hides from one pool to the next as the hides made their way through the stages of becoming garments and accessories for the fashion industry. What back-breaking work! And the working conditions: HORRIFYING. Today, OSHA and the EPA wouldn't let them have so much as a permit.
Anyway, he gave me my love of nature - for which I am truly grateful.
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