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11/7/09

O Radio Days



The time I am remembering.....

I was a young wife . . .  very young by today's standards. . . a stay-at-home mom with two children under the age of three.

We'd just purchased our first home in a tiny village in that little corner of the world where Vermont, New Hampshire and Massachusetts sort-of-meet. A mere 300 souls inhabited that quiet village whose life centered around the village green which included a past-its-prime-country inn, the town hall, a general store, post office and library (only opened on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons).

The house had been occupied by the same family for a quarter century and was always called, "the Anderson house" -- even after the Anderson's were gone and we were paying the mortgage, re-roofing, and gardening there. It was a large house; we had little money and were grateful to relatives who offered furniture from their attics which I stripped, sanded, painted, stained and recovered. And so we created a home with an interesting, if eclectic mix of styles that we loved.  Our rooms always brought smiles to the faces of visitors.


Many of our possessions came from the home of a family friend who had lived in the same house all her married life. The home was at the end of a short, narrow lane, a small cottage style house with seven rooms, two large porches front and back, a wonderful grape arbor, pear and apple trees, French lilacs and the tiniest tiniest garage you can imagine. The husband died first; they had no children; the widow became frail and forgetful. The only relative, a New York city cousin arranged for her to live in a nursing home and asked us to house-sit (but that is another story for another day!).

Later when we purchased this house in the little village 50 miles away, they offered the contents of the house to us. That house was packed with the stuff and things of their long life together: Mission and Stickley. Lots of the heavy, ornate oak. The dining room table was claw footed with a matching glass fronted tall chest and buffet typical of the 20s and 30s. Tall, Victorian pressed-back chairs that I fondly called 'vickie chairs'.  We accepted their offer.

Among the furniture given to us was a tall floor-model tube radio from the mid-1930s. It was in pristine condition, it's cabinetry was smooth and glistening without a scratch or a dent. The original purchase papers were folded into an envelope and tucked into the back.  And, wonder of wonders, it played. And so this radio, along with other treasures from the house moved with us to our new house in the tiny village.

The tall radio stood proudly in our house and was often a topic of conversation ~~~ which was, really, all we ever asked of it.

But one day a friend and neighbor who had moved to the village about the same time as we came by for a visit and coffee.  I am certain she had seen the radio before but I doubt she'd ever commented on it.  On this day, however, she asked:

Oh! Does it still play all the old radio programs!

Pleasant memories....
redux....
republished

10 comments:

yvette said...

I visit your house as you described and can imagine it and smile smile smile

love
yvette

patstudio said...

thank you yvette. you are sweet. and i smile too.

Eva said...

LOL! The old radio programs! It's a time machine. Great story.

patstudio said...

thank you eva. a true story. the best kind. and a sweet memory.

justme said...

Too funny! Loved reading your reminiscences, Pat.

Pat said...

Thank you Sally. I love it when you visit my blog. So good to 'see' you again....

LOVE STITCHING RED said...

Wonderful post. It is a real treasure. So ... does it still play all the old radio programes? ;o)

Carolyn ♥

patstudio said...

Carolyn, you are too too funny!

Rayna said...

thank you for this lovely memory -- and for the smile.

patstudio said...

thank you Rayna!

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