Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts

April 23, 2023

A Strong Foundation



A Strong Foundation
By John R. Greenwood




The photo above may appear average and unremarkable. Still, as I knelt there this April morning, the view reminded me of my personal foundation. Growing up in a small country village surrounded by a supportive community proved to be one of the most valuable contributions to my life. Whenever I begin to dissect what true happiness is, I inevitably return to my roots. Not simply family roots but those of my youth in general.


There isn't a day when I don't refer back to a face or story from my early life. Grade school classmates, backyard adventures, scout meetings, tree climbing, hay fort building, and visions of the old swimming hole all surface. When it's quiet with no outside distractions, I can visualize the endless list of people who strengthened my foundation. The obvious are parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and my dear sister. Then the surnames of the childhood families that added mortar to that foundation flow like water: Shay, Dake, Atwell, Davis, Gibbons, Cornell, Baldwin, Frasier, Hodges, O'Donnell, Rumpf, Panton, Lindahl, Bootier, Levo, Orisesk, Barney, Brown, Wheatley, Allen, Claydon, Gordon, Cote, Kahl, Sherman, Hall, Sesselman, Kostka, Bowen, Cline, Schwartz, Hurd, Smero, Koptula, Homiak, Pasmik, and Jones, all just a fraction of the mountainous collection of contributors to my life. I could fill pages with the names of people who've positively influenced me. Every day I channel an event or lesson I've experienced. Even the painful or uncomfortable ones have meaning and purpose in some remote way. How lucky I've been to have lived in the time and places that I have.

I saw that when I stood up and looked at my freshly painted foundation. Those names began popping into my head, inspiring me to write them down. As I write this, the gentle rain falling outside has given me a moment to ponder each name and attach a memory. It's an activity that I practice often and one that gives me immense pleasure. I know many people spend their lives searching for happiness via material things. Although a new car, exotic vacation, or motorboat can bring you short-term joy, the list of names above could only be obtained by growing up where stone foundations can still be found today.

Thank you, the 1960s and Greenfield Center, NY.





March 31, 2022

Caught Off Guard

Caught Off Guard 

By John R. Greenwood 




“Hey Johnny, I got something I want you to have.” 


That was the text message I received on a random Tuesday afternoon. It was from my friend Chris Leske. 


Minutes later, we sit down for a quick cup of coffee in the maroon booth at the corner Stewart’s. Chris and I had been collaborating on a magazine article that would be a snapshot of his life as a musician, cook, and artist. It came out days earlier in the Simply Saratoga Spring 2022 Edition. I wanted others to see what makes Chris and his story worth reviving and sharing. Read it, and you’ll better understand the connection we shared and the time lapse between then and now. 


With two fresh coffees and another ten minutes of story swapping, neither of us could wait another minute. I’d been staring at the parcel wrapped in brown paper lying on the table between us. I’m far from Sherlock Holmes, I’m more of a Get Smart tripping on the clues type, but even I knew the package in front of me was a painting. 


“Well, go ahead, open it!” 


As I peeled off the masking tape and pulled back the paper, I had the same look as Ralphie Parker opening his Red Ryder carbine-action, 200-shot, range model, air rifle with a compass in the stock. 


“Wow” 


I was overwhelmed and speechless. 


I was looking at ten years of my life rolled into one not-so-simple watercolor, all of it passing before my eyes like a Rolodex of scenes. Instantly, I envisioned those early morning milk deliveries to Lou’s/Comptons, Shirley’s, and the Spa City Diner; the long dark hall leading into the cellar of Lillians, and the steep decrepit stairs under the Tin & Lint; my Friday afternoon finale at the Parting Glass, Madame Jumel’s, Hatties, Mother Goldsmith, and Caffe Lena. It was a flood of warmth and nostalgia, a flash of joy, and a tinge of regret that it didn’t last longer. 


This was more than the gift of a painting; it was an artist’s look into my heart and soul. Our conversations and recollections over the last few months had manifested themselves into Chris's paintbrush and creative eye. It was his way of thanking me for my writing, while all I wanted was to convey how grateful I was for him opening up his artistic mind to me. 


For me and many, these are the snippets of life that make the dark days worth muscling through. It can be hard to wrestle away the negatives, but when that sun comes out, boy it feels good. It takes a unique eye to decipher the needs of others and then place them on a piece of canvas or in a musical note, and many of the people in my life have that skill-set. 


Banjo Man Chris “Lee” Leske is one of them, and I want to thank him for the gift that will keep on giving. 




My "Clem" painted Price's Dairy truck loading at the
dock of the now extinct Saratoga Dairy on Excelsior Ave. 

Photo is from Bill Barton's 
Facts and Tidbits of Saratoga's Dairy Industry From 
Early 1800's To 1988 

_________________________

The Painting  

By John R. Greenwood 


colors are secondary 

to the story shared

the gift, a painting 

wrapped in brown paper


years stacked neatly 

in a old red milk crate 

revived in an instant

the hours, the work, the friends


an artist’s gratitude 

overwhelms the receiver

memories framed and hung 

in reverence 






September 29, 2021

RIP Brookside Dairy



RIP Brookside Dairy
John R. Greenwood

Hall's Brookside Dairy
Wilton Rd.


I lost a dear friend today, and I'm having a hard time with it. A few days ago I was told the remaining buildings on the old Brookside Dairy property would be torn down. Praying they were mistaken, I drove by the farm on my way to a Greenfield Historical Society Event. The Brookside property had been cordoned off with caution tape and there were two demolition dumpsters sitting next to the main house. Personally, I think crime tape would have been a better choice. It was Saturday morning, and no one I spoke with knew anything about what was happening at the old farm.





Jump ahead three days. I received a text message that Captain John St. John's 1789 home was no longer standing and that it was on its way to the landfill. Ironically, there is a drawing of that same home on the cover of a long-forgotten 1970s publication titled "Greenfield Heritage Resource Inventory." On page #3 of that Heritage Resource Inventory, under a section titled, "AN EVALUATION OF WHAT THERE IS IN THE TOWN," is the following paragraph under HISTORIC RESOURCES:



A detailed analysis of the history of the area and its architectural record is given in chapter one. Some forty structures were felt to have historical significance, and the report isolates each one, shows its importance, and urges a general program for preservation and enhancement of these areas. 




Guess which structure is now a pile of dust—yes, #9. The Captain St. John house was in the top ten! 

Thank goodness they designated the Greenfield Town Hall #1.



Enlarged photo of Heritage Resource Inventory book cover




Captain John St. John Home 
later became Harold L. Hall's Brookside Dairy 




Description on Page #51 
Greenfield Heritage Resource Inventory 


Excuse my anger; it manifests itself when someone hurts or threatens someone close to me. Brookside Dairy was not a part of my family, but it played a significant role in who I became. Brookside Dairy taught me work ethic when I was still in single digits. It's where I learned how to build a hay fort and friendships. It set a foundation for a career in the milk business, which put a roof over my head and fed my family. It nurtured my lifelong leaning to the positive side of the road and my passion for saving and sharing stories of good times. It fueled my love of history and tightened my grip on nostalgia. Most of all, I learned the lesson of compassion. In the 1990s, Harold L. Hall shared an oral history of his life. You can find it on the Saratoga County Historical Center's website. He shared one story that stuck with me. He tells of a day in the farm's early years when he was sick with the flu and could barely move. He was in the barn milking when one of his immigrant neighbors came in the barn and saw how sick he was. He told Harold to go in the house and that he'd be right back. When he returned, he had others with him, and they proceeded to finish the milking and other chores. Harold seemed to pause in quiet reflection as he told the story.



I'm told that mold and vandalism riddled the buildings on the property and that the cost to save them would have been in the millions. That may or may not be true but what hurts the most is knowing that the people responsible will never experience the way I felt when I saw those two dumpsters. 


DOD 9/27/2021




At least we have a book cover to hold on to...





The Greenfield Historical Society's Chatfield Museum in the Odd Fellows Hall in Middle Grove is #24 on the Heritage Resource Historic Structure List. If you see a dumpster there tomorrow, call 911.





February 10, 2016

Three Families

Three Families
By John R. Greenwood


Merritt Cronkhite House -Built around 1834-35 Occupied by Cronkhite's into the early 1900's



Three Families
Cronkhite/Kubish/Bouchard
By John R. Greenwood

My visit to my mother’s (Kubish) family home in January 2016 was a wonderful start to the new year. Not only did it revitalize my desire to write it also gave me immense satisfaction knowing the feel and integrity of the home and property had remained intact for over 180 years. The Bouchard’s were gracious hosts by opening their home to me that day. They have a large family of their own and they know the value of, “the sense of place”. The sense of place the Bouchard’s home and property possess encompasses many generations but really only three families. As I dug deeper and deeper into the history of the home, property and the town itself, the more precious that sense of place became to me. I didn’t think that was possible. I was wrong. 

When Ray and I first spoke back in January he told me about a visit he had back in 1967. It was just months after they’d moved in. An elderly women showed up at the house and said she had some information they might like. The women’s name was Ida C. Standerwick. She was a Cronkhite and had been born on the property. Her father was Rueben Cronkhite and her grandfather was Merritt Cronkhite. She provided the Bouchards a wealth of information about the property and her experiences growing up there. Ray emailed me some photographs and a letter that he had retyped from a handwritten letter she’d sent him after her visit on 1967. I was like a child opening a Christmas package when I saw what Ray had sent me. The photograph of the Cronkhites standing in front of the home that held so many great family memories was a true gift to the heart. It was then that I realized how significant connecting with Ray and Carolyn had been. It clarified many things for me. I think everyone reading this will be able to identify with them. 


Very early photograph of the original tree lined Cronkhite driveway.
Ida Standerwick gifted the photo to the Bouchard's when she visited them in 1967.

This piece is not about genealogy, it's about more than that. I love family history and the information I assembled in the last few days has been a gratifying experience. The Cronkhites are not relatives. They built the home my grandparents would later own; the place where my mother called home; the place where her five siblings would live until they began families of their own. This piece is about how important it is to have something to connect to. I was barely ten when I’d last been on this property. Those were simpler times and the memories hung with me for a lifetime. My recent visit refreshed them and made them all the more valuable. This piece is about reconnecting with something you thought you’d never see again. I was fortunate enough to have someone open a door that allowed me re-entry into the physical past. Relocating a remote cemetery, seeing an old shed covered in it's original garb, seeing the rock covered hill that seemed mountain-like as a child, all swirled together to remind me how lucky I was to have lived a life full of so many great memories. 

The second point I’d like to make is how important it is to act upon your instincts. Don’t be stifled by the fear of the unknown. I think of all the years I drove past the long driveway leading to the old farm, too afraid or too busy to pull in and just knock on a door. It wasn’t as though Ray was a stranger. I knew who he was. He’d been a teacher of mine. He was known for his generous and helpful nature. This is just one of those things you say, “someday” to over and over again. You would think in a fifty year span I could have made someday, that day. 


 Late 1940's early 1950's
My father Ralph Greenwood and my grandparents Joseph and Johanna Kubish
I called my grandparents Baba and Zedo






If you have an old friend you keep planning to contact or an old place you keep meaning to return to, don’t wait another day. Get on your bike, get in your car, grab your sneakers, get a plane ticket, most of all get moving. Don’t sit idle waiting for memories to come to your door. Get out there and create a new one. I’ve become inspired by my new found friends Ray and Carolyn. Their kindness will have a long-lasting affect on me and my future adventures. 

I asked Ray if he minded me sharing the letter Ida C Standerwick had sent him. He never hesitated for a second, he encouraged me to use anything he’d shared.  I was fascinated by the letter and the information it contained. I will insert it here. 
_______________________________________

Merritt Cronkhite Home 

Merritt Cronkhite built the house about 1834-1835. It was well constructed, the cellar with it’s thick walls was immune to frost. Bricks lined the walls to add protection from the cold. I think the cistern was not built until the house had a slate roof. I do not know it’s date. The cellar had rows of bins for storage of potatoes and apples, the winter vegetables of carrots and squash. We had a variety of apples called, “Rusty Coats” that lasted until the early variety, “Astrakhan” came in early July, so we were never without apples. My father sold the first quality apples for table use, others were taken to a cider mill, converted into cider, then stored in the cellar where it became vinegar, which found a market in grocery stores in town. There were also shelves to hold a supply of canned fruit, jellies, preserves, and pickles.

The original layout of the house was changed somewhat after my grandfather passed away. The stairs went up from the back hall, and a bed sink or recess was removed from the living room and a closet built in it’s place, and the stairs turned around going up from the front hall. The back hall became a kitchen. A small bedroom opened from the living room. The original chimney had a fireplace with crane, pot hooks, and hand irons. We took them with us when we left the farm, and eventually they were installed in our home that my husband and I built on Staten Island, living in it 42 years until we came to Ossining in 1958. The mantlepiece in the parlor is the handiwork of my grandfather, as well as the woodwork under windows, baseboards, and doors. The porch was added at the time of other changes. 

The yard on the south side of the house called, the front yard, had many old-fashioned flowers, peonies, bee balm, flowering current, phlox, both pink and white, a bed of ribbon grass are some that I remember. Under the parlor windows were old fashion double roses various shades of pink, there were two lovely tress, one a balsam, the other a spruce. There was also a pear tree that bore pears that ripened in the winter, stored in the cellar. 

In the picture you can see a wee bit of picket fence built around the yard. My mother always had a flower bed in the yard near the porch.

At the end of the lane approaching the house, were three large willow trees. As one turned up the hill toward the house there was big butternut tree on the right. In the picture you can see it’s branches and the rock on which I spent happy hours, my play house. The well was at the foot of the hill on the left as you went up the hill to the house. Water was drawn by bucket on a chain, turned by a handle. One could see the bottom of the well where water came in through a rock. It was never dry. I do not know the present source of water supply. There was a spring on the left hand side of the lane as you leave the main highway, source of a small brook. East of the butternut tree were several black walnut trees. We let the squirrels have them, but we enjoyed the butternuts. Near this group of trees were two buildings, one a shop which had all sorts of tools, including some kind of a contraption used to mend harnesses. Nearby stood a grindstone for sharpening the farm tools, especially the scythes and axes. 

The other building housed the swine in winter time. It had a chimney and a big iron kettle used to cook provisions for the pigs. The kettle was used for the making of soft soap. In the summer time the pigs were moved to an outdoor location beyond the barns, near the corn crib. The corn crib was built with air space between the upright boards and was set on posts two or three feet above ground to provide ample airspace. After corn had been cut and husked, the corn was stored in the crib. One other important building was a small smoke house near the shop. It was quite tightly built, had a small door, inside in the center was an iron kettle in which a smoldering fire of corn cobs and hickory wood was built to provide the smoke to cure the hams, bacon, and slabs of beef for “dried” beef. 

In the picture, the building parallel with the house was a long building with an open shed at one end for storage of implements, and farm wagons, midsection was the woodshed and the portion at the right also had a chimney and facilities for cooking and a brick oven for baking bread. This was used in the summertime- (No air conditioning or electric fans in the “good old days”). A stairway led to space for storage of smaller farm tools, odds and ends of lumber.

The picture also shows a bit of the “carriage house” where ordinary wagons for business and pleasure were kept. The barns were built in the form of a right angle. One portion had stables for horses and storage for hay and grain. The other portion had stables for the cows with space overhead for more hay. West of the barns and adjacent to them was an orchard of apples and peaches. Beyond the orchard were three fields separated by stone walls. These were cultivated, oats, corn, buckwheat in rotation. There were several trees bearing chestnuts on the north side bordering on the wooded section of pines. There was a large boulder in the woods. It must still be there. We called it “The jumping off place”. These woods had an abundance of spring flowers, trailing arbutus, wild orchids, and trillium among those I recollect. The ground was covered by a creeping vine, “evergreen” we called it, but I think it was princess pine, not sure, also there was a carpet of wintergreens with berries so pleasant to eat. 

The fields on each side of the lane past the little cemetery were under cultivation, potatoes, garden vegetables mostly. Near the brook marsh marigolds grew in early spring. We called them cowslips and gathered them to cook like spinach, leaves and blossoms too. With the exception of two fields, land on both sides of the highway east extended to the property line of the next farm home for many years of Mr. Hawkins. On south side of the highway were meadows and more woods, much being hardwoods, maples, etc… In all there were more than two hundred acres. A large area north of the cemetery plot was the pasture for the cows. Maple trees grew along the lane and elsewhere here and there. In springtime they were tapped and the sap made into syrup or sugar. 

August 1967 
Ida C. Standerwick

__________________________________________



The week after my visit I found this same letter and additional information downstairs in the archives of the Greenfield Historical Society. Historian Ron Feulner showed me all the Cronkhite information he had on record. I didn't have enough time to investigate all of it. It will take another visit. I can't wait.  



Three Families Memories
Pick a Generation
The letter simply added more interest to my search. I could remember the fruit and apple trees, the bins in the cellar, the wide variety of plants and flowers that surrounded the house and yard. Ida and her memories, along with mine and the Bouchard's all ran together in this wonderful tapestry of an old farm and the land that it sat on. What a gift it was to be able to enjoy it once more. Like a vintage wine that sat undisturbed for decades, I was able to pop the cork and relive the sights, smells, and sounds of a 50's childhood. 

Ida C. Standerwick was born on the Cronkhite property 4/23/1880. She died in May 1973 at the age of 93. She was a school teacher who lived and worked in Staten Island NY. I found her listed in the book of: Proceedings of the Continental Congress of the National Society of the Daughters of the American Revolution, Volume 25. April 17-22nd 1916. 

The poem below along with other valuable Cronkhite history was found in the "Brief Genealogy of the Cronkhite Family by Leora Mae Greene Hildenbrand 

 “ Leaf after leaf drops off, flower after flower, 
    some in the chill, some in the warmer hours;
    alive they flourish, and alive they fall,
    and earth who nourished them receives them all.
    Should we, her wiser sons, be less content to sink 
     into her lap when life is spent?”
                                                     
   “Aye thus it is, one generation comes, another goes
     and mingles with the dust, and thus we come and go,
     filling up some little space- and thus we disappear 
     in quiet succession, and it shall be so till time 
     in one vast perpetuity be swallowed up.”                       

                        Walter Savage Landor.

This story will continue I promise. I plan to revisit the Bouchard's soon. 

1951
"Happy Days"
My father Ralph holding my sister Joanne, 

my aunt and uncle Anne and Steve Pasek, my grandparents Joseph and Johanna Kubish
Seated is my mother Helen holding my cousin Henry Ebert.


* Note: If any of the information I've shared is in correct or incomplete I apologize. I do my best to get it right. Much of what I share is done from memory, and time and distance have a way of clouding the clearest mind. In that regard I'm at a severe disadvantage. I welcome any feedback that might aid the accuracy of my accounts.  
                                                              John R. Greenwood
                    


January 23, 2016

Fifty Years Later

Fifty Years Later
By John R. Greenwood



I took the photograph above as I entered the long driveway leading to my mother’s childhood home. She grew up there with her mother and father, three sisters and two brothers. It had been fifty years since I'd been there. I was around 10 when my grandfather died. The property was sold and my grandmother who moved next door to my parents passed away a short time later. The house and property were purchased by Ray and Carolyn Bouchard in the mid sixties. I didn’t know who lived in the home until several years after the Bouchard’s purchased it. Mr. Bouchard was one of my high school teachers in the early 70’s. At the time I had no idea he was raising a family in the same home where many of my fondest childhood memories were made. 

With my mother having five siblings, I was fortunate to have several cousins. There were many family gatherings in the late 50’s and early 60’s at the old farm. There were lots of children with no televison, Play Station or cell phones. We spent hours playing Simon Says or Hide and Seek. Kids with skinned knees and dirty faces playing together. Imaginations running wild. Aunts and uncles laughing, telling stories, sharing food and drink, enjoying life in its simplest form. How lucky I was to have those experiences in my life. There was a huge flood of emotion as I approached my grandparents old home. 



These little stories come from various connections. Today’s visit was the result of a connection made at work when a coworker asked me about a family video I had posted online. It was a video collection of photographs from my mother’s side of the family. The connection was made when she saw the photos and recognized they were taken on her in-laws property. It was an ah-ha moment when we both realized her children had many of the same fond memories growing up on their grandparents property as I did with mine. Moments later I was in possession of her father-in-laws phone number. She said,”Call him. He would love to talk to you about the farm.” A couple days later I did call and we did talk. A week later I was headed there for a visit. 

There is another twist to this story. My grandparents last name was Kubish. The name of the family who originally settled the land and built the home in the 1800's was Cronkhite. Cronkhite’s were one of the first families to settle the town of Greenfield Center, NY. There are four Cronkhite homes remaining within a few miles of each other on Wilton Rd. *The stone home of Rueben Cronkhite circa 1833 is one of the oldest homes in Greenfield. The Cronkhite house the Bouchard’s live in is just east of the stone house; back at the end of the long driveway pictured in the first photo. 

I remembered an old cemetery in the woods behind my grandparents house. I had a fairly good recollection of it’s approximate location. Mr. Bouchard confirmed its existence. My hope for the day was to revisit the cemetery. My grandparents weren't related to the people buried there, they were simply the landowners for the first half of the 1900's. I've lived within 5 miles of the old farm all my life. When I called the Bouchard home to see if they would mind me taking a walk in the woods behind their home Carolyn answered. She said Ray would be home shortly and I was welcome to come and walk the property. When I arrived there was only one set of car tracks in the snow so I knew Ray wasn’t back yet. I drove in to the end of the driveway parked my truck and headed into the woods. It was early afternoon, the sun was out, but it was bitter cold. The whistling wind and creaking trees added to the aura of looking for an old cemetery nestled deep in the woods. I walked slowly trying to transport myself back to the 1960’s. It wasn’t hard. The solitude soaked into my skin like a sponge. Off in the distant trees I noticed some high ground with a wall of stone around it. My pulse spiked but at the same time a calm fell over me. I was grateful for the opportunity to return here. I weaved through the crusty snow and approached the old iron gate leading into the cemetery enclosure. What a beautiful place to be laid to rest. The plot was in some disrepair but for something that had stood untouched and strong through two centuries it was in amazing shape. It was more pristine than I’d remembered. I’ve included a few photos. I’d like to have the opportunity to return some day and possibly neaten things up. It seemed like the right thing to do; not to disturb or disrupt, but to simply pay some respect to the settlers buried there. 

























I stood looking at the land surrounding me. I tried to imagine it as the farmland it once was some 200 years ago. In my mind I removed the trees and pictured hay-filled fields encased by freshly stacked stonewalls. Without leaves, and with just a few inches of snow cover, it felt as though you could see for miles. It was a soothing feeling. 

I headed back toward the house but I didn’t retrace my steps. I climbed to the top of the large hill that stretched along the backside of the old farm. The hill stood like a giant guardian protecting the house, outbuildings and garden. Dozens of children from past generations had used that hill as their playground. As I walked along the ridge of the hill and looked down on my grandparents old home I was suddenly a little boy playing army again. Memories flooded back. The hill was like a giant time machine.

The Bouchard's did a wonderful job preserving the home and several out buildings. I’m grateful for the years of hard work they’ve done there. I’m sure my grandparents would be pleased to see their home had been well cared for. I felt fortunate to be able to revisit it in person. 












The Bouchard’s are bird lover’s. The well stocked feeders and trees filled with bluebirds, finches, and other songbirds made that abundantly clear. I felt obligated to share a less than proud story of my youth with Ray while we walked around the snow covered yard. I confessed that when I was around nine I had a BB-gun, as many kids my age did. I had it with me one day when we were visiting my grandparents. I had asked my mother and father if I could take it out in the yard. I’m sure I crossed my heart and hoped to die promising to be careful. I did the unthinkable that day. I shot an innocent bird sitting on a telephone wire. That same wire stills runs across the yard just as it did back in 1964. This time the wire's residents were safe and sound. I told Ray that the experience defined me as an adult. The sick feeling I got shooting that little bird stuck with me the rest of my life. It triggered something within me that made me a more compassionate person. One small bird gave me the gift of a lifetime. It has nothing to do with hunting. It has everything to do with not wanting to hurt anyone or anything. The yard around that home today was brimming with good karma. Somehow I felt I’d been forgiven. 


























We walked around to the back of the house where some of the many outbuildings I’d remembered were still standing. There were some vacant spots but Ray had salvaged and preserved a few of the vintage sheds we used to play in as children. He’d replaced and repaired siding, roofs, and windows. The patina on them was as pure as you can get. As Ray was describing some of the past and future plans he had for some of the sheds I noticed a piece of framed lumber with hinges on it laying on some stones behind one of the buildings. I was drawn to it like a moth to a July porch light. At first glance I thought it was a part of a wheelbarrow. As I got closer I realized it was the small door with hinges on the top. I believe it was the door into the old chicken coop. I suddenly had flashbacks of crawling in and out of it. I’m sure we used the old chicken coop as a fort or playhouse and that little door was our escape hatch. I asked Ray a couple days after our visit if there was a chance I could have that simple piece of family history so I could preserve it somehow. He never balked. He sent me a message telling me he would put in a safe place until my next visit. I can’t wait. 

The Bouchard’s opened their home and heart to me on that visit. They invited me inside and walked me through the home showing me the work and changes they’d made. I stood in the middle of their living room and rotated slowly like the beacon in a Maine lighthouse. I could picture everything the way it was. I could smell the wood stove and hear the pendulum clocks ticking away. Behind me the living room wall was lined with the Bouchard’s family photos. You could feel a sense of family swirling about. 

The three of us gathered at the dining room table. Carolyn brought out coffee, crackers and homemade wine jelly. We sat there and recounted story after story about the experiences we’d enjoyed there. They ranged from the 1950’s to 2016. It was a wonderful visit and I’m truly thankful for the Bouchard’s daughter-in-law Rhonda for rekindling the connection between the two families.

Below are several old family photographs of mine taken in and around my grandparents home. I also included a link to the video I made that helped make my visit a reality. If you have ever have an opportunity to revisit an old family home that holds happy memories but a different family you might consider knocking on the door. You might get lucky like I did and find the caretakers of a lifetime. 

This post is dedicated to the entire Bouchard Family with gratitude and appreciation. 

Sincerely, 

John R. Greenwood



Here is a link to a YouTube Video collection of Kubish Family photographs. 
Click Here: Kubish Family Treasures



Below is a collection of more photos from the Cronkhite/Kubish/Bouchard Farm. 



My grandfather Joseph Kubish
1960's


Ray Bouchard
2016


2016
The hill kids dream of.

Circa 1950
My grandparents and my father prepping for winter with the hill in the background. 



Easter 1957First row- Cousin Debbie, Sister Joanne, Me
Second row- Aunt Anne, Mother Helen
Standing - Grandmother Johanna Kubish




Family Gathering at the Kubish's
My mother is standing with the plate of bread with my father directly behind her.

1944
My Uncle Frank
Taken on the front steps. 

2016
The front door as it looks today.
*Note the door's side panels have been preserved




1958
My grandmother surrounded by grandchildren.
I'm peeking out from the middle of the pack.


Thank you for the memories...

Not The End

* Information about the Cronkhite Houses was obtained from the book, "Greenfield Glimpses" - by Clayton H. Brown