Person’s Story

Vibe looking for: Dance, Dance, Dance by Steve Miller Band and House that built Me by Miranda Lambert We will be celebrating our 18th wedding anniversary this August...would like you to personalize a song for this very special place for him...(tried to include pics...but they didn't paste) My husband, grandparents house is a very special place to him and our family. Over four generations have lived in the same old farmhouse on the North Road in Dixmont, Maine. It is believed that is the oldest house left in this little town in Maine. It was built around 1780 or 1790 by the Young brothers (husband’s great grandmother’s brothers). Before Dr. Dix renamed the town in 1807 it was called “Collegetown”. It is white with black shutters (not sure if it has always been). It has a giant horse chestnut tree in the front yard. I have heard stories of children, grandchildren and most recently great grandchildren being coralled/playpenned near it in the summertime. It’s special because of the family that grew inside it. My husband’s grandmother was born there. She was married there. She told me countless stories about how she got (Gramp) with a “postage stamp”. He was an orphan who left another farm across town. He lied about his age and joined the military. (gram) found his name in the paper as a local soldier and began to write letters to him. When he came home on leave they were married. Last year, in May, she died there. It has been the host to more years of Christmas’ than any of us have been alive. And even when we were busting at the seams to have everyone there Christmas day, we still gathered there. It used to be a working chicken farm. Aunt’s favorite memories were feeding the chickens chokecherries. Stories of long walks through the barns to the outhouse were told. For my husband, it was a second home. His grandmother was his caretaker when his mom worked. He would tell me about how the “belt” hung on the door. He never saw it come off the door, but it always hung there as a warning to be good! He recalls numerous stories of hunting with his grandfather and coon hounds in the yard. When he grew older, Gram and Gramp enjoyed traveling together. They would drive and spend summers in Alaska and winters in Pittston Farm, the woods of Maine, where Gramp groomed snowmobile trails all winter. This became his home. He would look after the old place and gave him many nights of drinking games with friends (even breaking the kitchen table playing spoons). My husband also feels he is very connected to this house and all the time he spent there with his grandparents. After several not positive relationships, he told his grandmother that he was afraid he wouldn’t find anyone. She told him to pray and that she would pray for him. He said that night on the big granite steps, he prayed and he believes I am his answered prayer. This house was opened to me as well when we got together. A single mom, trying to go back to college to start a new life. Gram and Gramp always said, “what’s mine is yours.” For two years we lived there taking care of the house as they traveled and lived with them during the “off seasons” before heading off again. This is when I heard all the tales to be told and was told they really wanted him and I to take over the farmhouse when it was time. It wasn’t an easy house for a city girl like me to live in. I was scared of the “dark, dirt basement”, it had rodent visitors and all my son’s crayons when coloring would roll off the kitchen table and under the refrigerator following the slope of the floor! There must have been a full 64 pack under there! But there are beautiful memories too; sledding down the hill in the winter, birthday parties, watching heat lighting across the field from the back deck, watching deer roam. We will call that house home again someday. It is too special to this family to not care for it and invite family and friends in it.