52 Ancestors Week 39: Homestead

 From Amy Johnson Crow: Week 39

The theme for Week 39 is "Homestead." Is there a home you think of when you think of your ancestors? For me, it's my Grandma's tiny post-WWII era house that somehow fit all of the extended family on Christmas. What does "homestead" make you think of?

Home. Home on the range....

    Growing up I was fortunate to be within driving distance of several houses owned by my ancestors. This was obviously due to the fact that I live one town over from where everyone lived. There's a reason why this blog is called "All Roads Lead to Haverhill".  Several of my ancestors called the Queen Slipper City home at one point or another and while I obviously never went to every ancestor's house in the city, I did visit two of their homes on a regular basis.

Not a bad looking place, huh?

   When we would go to my grandma Ollie's house from the marina where our boat was docked, it often felt like we were literally going over the river and through the woods. Though, technically we went over the Merrimack River twice because of how the river flows through the valley. It's not a straight line by any stretch of the imagination.

    Grandma Ollie lived at 754 Washington Street in Haverhill and to this day I still remember where everything was and what it looed like. It wasn't until I got older and asked questions that I learned that she and Grandpa Marco weren't the house's original owners.

    My great-grandfather Vincenzo built the house in the 1950s and lived there with his second wife Fortuna for many years until he passed away in 1970. He left the house to my grandfather and the rest is pretty much history. My parents and I would visit almost every week and when I close my eyes I can still remember where everything was down to the last detail.

    Ollie was a very amiable person. She would literally feed you the second you walked in the door after greeting you with a warm smile. If you were family, she'd give you a hug and not let go after a few minutes.

    When you walk into the front door, there was a room where everyone's coats and shoes would go. If you looked to your right, there was a door that led to the garage. If you go to the right, you were suddenly in the kitchen.

    In the middle of the kitchen was this round table where I heard many stories about the family and eat many of the delicious goodies my grandmother cooked. 

 

    To the right of the kitchen was grandma's living room and that's where my brother usually went first.

    Seriously. He'd plop himself down on the couch and watch television until dinner was ready. The living room had many of her old pictures on display. I remember seeing pictures of her father Giuseppe, his brothers, her mother Clementina and so many other pictures. The room was like a museum dedicated to the Carrabs family. One of the funniest things though was that there was this old timey telephone on display. The thing never worked so my brother and I would play with it all the time! Ollie didn't care because it didn't work..

Grandma Hamel hanging out with the
Little Old Italian Ladies. 

    To the left of the kitchen was the sun room. If people weren't comfortable out in the kitchen, you could relax in the sunroom. There was this pink couch where I played with my toys while the adults were talking. The room and the kitchen had an open floor plan so I could hear everything that was going on. I remember never going across the room to where my grandmother kept some dolls.

    I think they reminded me a bit too much of the creepy dolls my grandma Natalie had in her house. They were astonishingly lifelike!

    In the corner of the room there was a collection of swords and canes my grandmother said Grandpa Marco bought. When grandma Ollie passed away in 2002, I inherited the contents. I never played with those things. I knew to stay as far away as possible from sharp objects! The canes were cool, though. I just wish I knew their full story. From the sunroom there was a door that led to the patio and the backyard.

    In the back of the kitchen there was a little hallway that led to Ollie's bathroom and bedroom. I never went into the bedroom. Some places were just off limits. It wasn't that she told my brother and I to stay out of there. We just knew it was her private area and we stayed where the adults were congregating. The door in front of the front door led to her basement and I flat out never went down there. It's a shame too because that's where Vincenzo's old toolbox was stored. Had I went down there and gotten the box, you can bet I would have asked her about the contents!! Hindsight is 20/20, I guess. The basement was also where Vincenzo kept his wine.

    Grandma's house wasn't the biggest house in the world and that's fine. It was the perfect place for friends and family to meet and have a great time. It didn't have to be gigantic and impressive. Sometimes even the smallest houses can be fantastic. The size of the house isn't what matters. It's the people who live there. Though, I checked out the house on Google Earth recently and saw that the new owners installed an in-ground pool that takes up two-thirds of the backyard I once played in. UGH! Waste of a perfectly good backyard. Humans vex me sometimes.

    If grandma Ollie wasn't home, you could bet she was at her sister Louise's house at 26 Bartlett Street in Haverhill. I think this house was a homestead in every sense of the word. The house had three good-sized apartments and it was the home of the Carrabs family from when they arrived in America in the 1910s to 2010. That's a century's worth of laughter, tears and more pasta than you can eat!

    I don't know who built it. But, I do know that Giuseppe and his wife Clementina lived there with their family in every census I found them in. Over time, one sister would live on each floor of the place. It was amazing.

    I don't remember the details of Louise's apartment much. However, I do remember there was a big round table in the kitchen like the one grandma Ollie had. She also had a living room with a bunch of old pictures on the wall. Ironically, she had more pictures of Giuseppe's brother Rocco than Ollie had. I never figured out what that was the case.
 

    Louise was just as warm and caring as her younger sister was and she would talk to you for hours about any subject. She would also feed you. Seriously. You would not leave that woman's house unless you were fed! The meals she cooked were amazing and when you visited her house you felt right at home. Louise was also very funny. I remember going to Foxwoods Casino with her and my parents and she'd say to me "If anyone asks, you're my grandson and it's your birthday. You're with me." And that's how I learned to scout slot machines.

Aunt Louise!

    Aunt Louise was a fun lady and I miss her and my grandmother a lot. Their houses were the very definition of homesteads. People could go there and feel right at home because they were the warmest people you would ever meet. They'd share a story or two and feed you at the same time. It's what little old Italian ladies do. They feed you and you aren't leaving until you got fed!

    Their homes were filled with the smells of all the goodies they were cooking and the laughter of everyone who visited them. Everyone felt at home there and in a way Grandma Ollie's house and Aunt Louise's house were a second and third home to my brother and I. We were always welcome and we still cherish the memories we made there to this day.

    Those houses were the ones where I first got interested in genealogy and so it makes sense that I'd hold them close to my heart. I'm glad that both places are still around these days so that the families currently living there can have the same memories my family did.

    And that is what "homestead" means to me. Most people think of the ranch houses people buy out west. For me homesteads will always be a place that's been in the family for a very long time. They're places where memories are born and stories are told. They're houses filled with memories of love, loss, laughter and tears. That's what a homestead should be. A place to build memories that last several lifetimes. I only wish the walls in those houses could talk. 

See ya next time!

Pictures of the houses are courtesy of Google Earth.