(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator
George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere
in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Old home seems to miss Christmas
hustle and bustle,” was originally published in the Dec. 23, 1993 edition of
The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)
George Buster Singleton
This is a story of a house built in the early 1800s in what used to be a thriving community. This old house was the home of my maternal great-grandparents. The house still stands, yet it is in decay.
I visited the old deserted homestead a few days before Christmas. As I remembered the many stories that had been told to me of its past, I wondered what it would say if it could talk. This is probably some of the story the old house would tell, if this was possible.
“I came into being some years before the Civil War. Though I am old and have been deserted for many years, it has not always been that way. My yards are now grown over with weeds and brush, and the only sounds I hear are the sighing winds through my broken windows and the creaking of my foundations as they settle to the decay of time.
“My hearths are cold, because there is no one to kindle the fires to keep out the chill. My family, the ones that caused me to be, lie sleeping in the family cemetery across the yard and down the old abandoned lane aways.
Dear memories
“I am alone now, but there was a time when I knew the sound of laughter and patter of little feet in my hallways. These old walls hold many memories – dear memories that will dwell within these walls until my foundations crumble and return to the ground from which they came. But before this happens, let me tell of happier times.
“Of all that I remember, I think the happiest times that I recall were the times at Christmas. This was always the most special time of the year with my family.
“I remember the huge cedar tree that was brought out of the woods and trimmed to perfection before it was place in the front room. The front room was where all the company came to visit. The nicest bed, the best chairs, the large sofa and the large piano were in the front room.
“After the tree was in place, decorations were made and pine cones were painted all different colors. The sweet gum burrs were dipped in silver paint to look like huge snow flakes hanging in my windows. There also was the Indian corn with the many colorful ears that hung in clusters at each end of the mantel over the huge stone fireplace.
“I will never forget the colorful paper chains looped about the tree, with little handmade paper bells hanging everywhere. Always, there was the large silver star, made from tin foil saved from chewing-gum wrappers, in the top of the tree. The star was always carefully wrapped and packed away after the holidays, so it could be used the next Christmas season.
Bunch of mistletoe
“Oh yes, I almost forgot about that bunch of mistletoe tacked up in the hallway, just outside the front-room door. All the young men would try and catch the pretty girls under it, so they could steal a kiss. The would giggle and always keep an eye on the older folks as they sat by the fire, hoping they wouldn’t see or hear what was going on out in the hall.
“I remember the little ones of my family who were looking for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve. Each would place a box or a hat, and on occasion the dish pan, for old Santa put fruit and candy in. This was about all they got, because times were hard, and there wasn’t much money around in those days.
“There would always be a fire left to burn in the fireplace. Not a big one, but large enough for Santa to warm his hands and feet. The coffee pot was placed beside the fireplace, so that all Santa had to do was drag out a few hot coals with the fire poker and warm the coffee left for him.
“After supper, after dancing to the music of the bagpipes, the little ones were sent off to bed up in the sleeping loft. For the next two or three hours, threatening calls would come from the fireside, telling them if they didn’t go to sleep, Santa Claus wouldn’t come. Finally, when there were no more sounds from the sleeping loft, a hurried trip was made by the menfolk to the smoke house out back for a taste of homemade blackberry win. This would help pass the hours while waiting for Santa to arrive.
Peaceful feeling
“The next morning was always tough on me, but really I didn’t mind. The little ones would wake up early and nearly knock the stairs down, coming to see what Santa had left them in their Christmas boxes. The fires were built up and the warmth slowly crept over the floors and walls, giving me a peaceful feeling for the busy day ahead.
“I’ll never forget that breakfast my family served on Christmas morning. It was something to behold – those hot biscuits with sugar-cane syrup, and always several kinds of meats. And, on this day, they always served sliced cheese, which was some kind of family tradition, I think. And always, there was fried chicken – that too was kinda special.
“Along about 9 a.m., more company would start arriving. I can hear the horses now, stamping on the gravel rocks outside the yard gate. They were impatient to get in the barn where it was warm and where there was plenty of fresh hay. I remember the jingle of the harness as the men folks unhitched the wagons, talking and laughing, and hurrying to get back to the warm fire.
“I could never describe all the different kinds of pies, cakes and custards, and all the other food that came out of those wagons. Ham, turkey, roasts and just about everything you could imagine was put on the large table in the dining room. There were times when I really felt sorry for that old table, loaded down with all that delicious food.
Christmas carols
“After the meal was over, everyone would gather about that heavy piano and sing Christmas carols. I will never forget that piano; it was so heavy until extra blocks had to be placed under the front-room floor to keep it from sagging. I didn’t really mind because that piano had a sound unlike any piano in the county. That after-dinner singing was something to remember, ever after all these years.
“I knew the day was about to end when I heard the rattle of harness and the sounds of wagon wheels on the gravel outside the front gate. As the last goodbyes were said, quiet would come again to my hallways and the fire was left to die away in the fireplace in the front room.
“Those days are gone now; many seasons have passed since I have felt the warmth of Christmas within these walls. The chills of time and age dwell within me as the north wind blows its cold damp breath through my broken windows and sagging doors.
“Perhaps in time, someone will come and claim me again for their own. Then laughter and warmth will abide again within these old walls, and the mistletoe will hang in the hall as before. And Christmas will come to this old house again. But until that time, I will wait and remember.”
(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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