Auto biography of old house
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The Autobiography of an Old House
[Memories of the Francis family occupancy of the old pioneer
home on the shores of East Okoboji lake in Dickinson county,
Iowa, as depicted by the late Sen. Leslie E. Francis through
the allegorical authorship by the "Old House," are continued.
The first group of these sketches appeared in the January
issue of the ANNAILS, though written by the author in fact a
year prior to his death in February, 1956.
Through the personality of "The Boy" so often spoken of
by "The Old House," Senator Francis wrote of his own youthful days spent upon the prairies and about the lakes of northern Iowa. Likewise, events depicted are those coming under
his personal observation, and often are really chapters in
the life of the Francis household, the family friends and
neighbors, all having historical value as relating to that area
of the state, typifying current happenings of the era so vividly
described.
As composite chapters from the Francis book not yet published, the manuscript being kindly loaned to the ANNALS,
represents the last literary and historical effort of an able
man written during days of declining physical strength and
activity, now privileged to be published through courtesy of
the family.—The Editor.]
The Old House Speaks
They placed me upon a hill overlooking everything
about me. Although I stood among tall trees that covered the land between me and the lake, a road was cut
down to the lake, wide enough to enable me to see the
water, and in the winter when the leaves had fallen, I
could see up and down the lake for many miles. Even
when the leaves filled every branch I could see part of
the lake because of the deep ravine, for there was a
broad space where the trees were low and I could see
over their tops. And of course the prairie was an open
book for a long distance. So with the open prairie
before me and the lake shore behind me, I could see
almost everything that happened in the entire neighborhood.
I was always greatly impressed by the weather. If
we had long dry spells, my shingles warped and then
when it did rain, the water came through upon my inner
walls. This was disturbing to the family and it did not
please me, but I was helpless—I could do nothing. Then
rain, freezing as it fell, which was not at all uncommon,
would loosen the putty that held my windows in their
places, so that the next storm might force a whole window out. As I have said before, in winter the drifting
snow would come through every crack and crevice. It
was amazing how snow drifted into .buildings. A wall
or roof that would keep out rain often lets snow in.
As a consequence, the people suffered much from the
extreme cold. At night everything would freeze solid.
There were times when men who wore whiskers found
them frozen to the bed covers in the morning.
A person's breath would look like steam and the windows would be covered over with a heavy frost. I remember how much the children loved to stand by a
frosted window and draw pictures on it. Almost always
someone would tell them to stop — that bothered me
for I could see no good reason why they should not
have that little pleasure, but to the older folks there
seemed to be something wrong about it so most of the
writing and drawing were done when no one was looking.
The children dearly loved to scrape the frost from a
place large enough to peak through at the weather outside. I have seen them thaw off such a place with their
hands or even by blowing their hot breath against the
glass long enough to melt away the frost. There were
so few things in those days a child could do to have
fun and it was amazing what little things gave pleasure.
I have seen the Boy work for hours at a time getting
a button to whirl on a double string. He had seen the
older children do it, so he felt he could do it too. He
finally got the idea and the button revolved very swiftly