Abandoned homestead northeast of Peterman on AL Hwy 21 |
As I have traveled the roads in our beautiful county, many places and scenes have caught my eye.
Of the many different places I’ve seen, the ones that stand out are the old, abandoned houses that sit quietly by the road as though waiting for the return of the families long since gone.
To stop and walk around these old homes and see the vacant rooms, to view the old fireplaces that have grown cold from the passing years, brings a certain feeling of sadness.
Pages of time
I have wondered if those homes would be empty now if the pages of time could be turned back. Back to the days when these homes range with laughter or maybe were stilled with heartache.
I have seen an old chair or a table that is wobbly on its legs because of time and weather and neglect, and wondered about the hours spent around it and the topics of conversation of that day in the past.
I have looked into an old fireplace and seen a small boy somewhere back in time on a cold winter’s night standing in front of a hot, roaring fire. I have remembered the same small boy standing there until his legs and backside could no longer stand the heat, making a mad dash for the cold bed waiting in the next room.
There may be a small kitchen sitting quietly a short distance from the house, with a small, once-covered walkway connecting the two. As I stand there, I can call to mind a tall, dark-haired, beautiful woman turning a coffee mil that was fastened to the wall.
Proud and beautiful
I know this woman. I remember that this is the way my grandmother looked. I remember that although stooped in years, she stood proud and beautiful despite her age.
I remember the food that to a young boy was out of this world.
I remember the mystery of why the kitchen was not joined to the house being explained to me by my grandfather. I remember being told that should the kitchen catch fire, it could be dragged away from the vicinity of the house with a team of oxen or mules (no one ever bothered to explain what would happen if the house itself caught fire).
I think the poet Longfellow felt as I do when he wrote the following phrase: “This is the place. Stand still, my steed, and let me review the scene and summon from the shadowy past, the forms that once have been.”
(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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