Bottles and Old Houses

I was originally intending to review a book today. It's the story of an Iranian man who comes to America for an education. He then returns to Iran as a member of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard. I actually began writing it, and I will, it's a great book, but I needed a break from his ordeal! So I went for a ride to clear my head.

There are several old houses peeking out from the overgrowth along Shiloh Church Road that I have been meaning to explore for about a year now. Something about the properties spell GLASS to me. And I was pleasantly surprised with this assortment of brown and green glass as well as an old blue cobalt Noxema jar. The planter is nice, too, but that's for Sue. So I was pretty happy with my catch, until I saw the BOX.

The box was staring at me and overflowing with papers that were dying to be unfolded and read. Onionskin, typewritten copies of legal papers, deeds, business correspondence and even a High School Diploma from 1952. But the best was this photograph. There are several other old ones similar to this, but this is the one I like best. It shows the porch still intact with the family all gathered together. Along with the glass bottles and letters it lends evidence that there was once a family that called this old house home.

You have to wonder about the things people leave behind when they leave their homes. Was there a death? Financial troubles? Did everyone simply just grow up and move away and move on, to newer and better lives? I hope so. But I will always wonder why they left so much of their history behind.