Old log house near Midway: you could feel the warmth |
Today as we sit in our air-conditioned and centrally heated homes, we are inclined to forget about how it was not too long ago.
When we get cool, we turn up the thermostat, or if we are in bed, we turn up the electric blanket to our desired comfort.
If we become too hot, we reach over from our armchair and make the necessary adjustments, and soon, the whole house is cool again.
A few weeks ago, while traveling near the Midway community, I came upon a house which has none of these conveniences.
Hours of hard work
The old log house with the rock-and-mud chimney gave evidence that many hours of hard work had gone into its construction.
The care and patience with which the chimney was constructed were to be marveled at. The way the rocks were fitted together so as to get the most possible strength out of the structure was to be admired.
The painstaking care with which the logs were notched together made it easy to see that an early craftsman was involved in the raising of the house.
The seasoned, weathered look of the logs and floors was testimony that the house had been around since the early 1800s.
Many winters’ warmth
The old fireplace inside the house looked as though it had warmed the owners for many winters. The old mantle piece stood as a reminder of the past years, of the good ones and the bad.
One could see that there had been many hours of happiness around the fireside. One could feel the warmth press forth, causing one to turn and warm the side that wasn’t near the fire.
Looking into the old fireplace caused me to remember when I sat as a small boy before a fireplace and listened with wide-eyed wonder at the stories relayed by my parents and grandparents. Some of these stories are still vivid in my memory and forever will remain to remind me of my youth and its richness.
I remember, too, when I would stand in front of the fire, just before going off to bed. I would turn around several times, getting warm on all sides, and then make a mad dash to the distant bedroom and submerge myself beneath the covers with only my nose sticking out.
Lost togetherness
I think that much of the togetherness that was present in families years back, when everyone sat around the fireplace, has been lost.
In our great quest for comfort and convenience, we might have sacrificed one of the things that our society needs most. The ability to just sit and listen – to be seen and not heard – is a goal that many seek, but few attain.
(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand, lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964 and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)
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