Time Travel

The Missus Herself and I had the occasion to head north for my Mom's birthday a couple of weeks ago. At the time I was still monocular of vision so m'lady was handling the driving chores. Gave me the chance to see more of the countryside than I normally do when making that trip. Through necessity, while driving I tend to pay more attention to the traffic and the road itself than I do the scenery.

This year the foliage, for which so many leaf peepers flood the northern parts of New England at this time of year, wasn't as nice as it sometimes is in mid-October. For instance, there are three to five big maples at this one bend of the road as one travels up Route 12 towards Bellows Falls, town of my birth, which turn a magnificent gold color in some years. This year, they were a faded green. They may not change much at all this year. It happens like that.

Growing up on a hillside in Vermont, with numerous hills and a distant mountain on view outside my window, I have to admit, there were years I took the magnificent display of autumn colors for granted.

That's the ancestral dwelling of my clan. I was raised in that house which my brother, The Olde Vermonter, now calls home. My Dad built that stonewall, our cat Tommy, black as night, would sit on that corner of the wall in the foreground to the left of the telephone pole and wait for us to come home on those days we visited my grandparents.

As we'd come onto our street (at the bottom of the hill in the photo above, typically at night), we could see Tommy's eyes glowing from the headlights of Dad's car. He'd wait until we drove by and into the driveway before he would run to greet us. That cat was dog-like, some would say, in his devotion to his human family. While I'll be the first to admit that not all cats exhibit that sort of behavior, the ones I've lived with always seemed to.

But as you can see, I grew up surrounded by trees. As I said, some years the magnificence of the view from our front window was taken for granted. But every now and then, you'd just stop, look out over the hills and it would take your breath away. The golds, the deep reds, the lighter shades of red, contrasted with the dark green of the fir trees and pines, made a young lad feel good to be alive.

Some years it would be like this...

...and some years the colors were more muted.

The opening photo, taken in Winchendon, Massachusetts, is a town about 100 miles north of where I live now. We always pass through there going to Mom's and returning home again. I remember going through Winchendon as a child, probably when we would head to Massachusetts to visit friends of my parents who lived in Sudbury. The first time I went through Winchendon after retiring from the Air Force, I noted that the rocking horse was still there. But it seemed different. Through the magic of the Internet, I found this -

Morton E. Converse started his business career in Converseville, New Hampshire, manufacturing acids. In 1873, he purchased a nearby mill to make wooden products. Apparently he started making toys there, but soon teamed with Orland Mason of Winchendon to form the Mason & Converse Company, which lasted until 1883. Converse then partnered with his uncle, Alfred C. Converse, and Converse Toy & Woodenware Company was formed. In 1887, the company changed its name to Morton E. Converse & Company. It remained in business until 1934.

Converse made a great variety of toys, including Noah's Arks, doll furniture, kiddie riding racers, hobby horses, floor whirligigs, drums, wagon blocks, building blocks, pianos, trunks, ten pins, farm houses, and musical roller chimes. Such a large number of toys were made in Winchendon that it became known as Toy Town.

The original Giant Rocking Horse was built in 1912 by Morton Converse. The 12-foot grey hobby horse was named Clyde, and made from nine pine trees. It was a copy of the company’s #12 rocking horse. In 1914, Clyde entered the local parade to celebrate the town’s 150th anniversary. Clyde was moved to the railroad station for about 20 years. Then in 1934, he moved to the edge of the Toy Town Tavern for about 30 years. After that, he was put in storage and fell into disrepair. A replica, Clyde II, was sculpted in 1988 using the original as a model. He is now on display in a covered pavilion. (Source)

Never knew his name was Clyde.

Heading up north to visit the family is a lot like time travel. In Winchendon there is a McDonald's where we always stop for a break on the trek north. One year, when heading home for Christmas, we brought our cat Pat along. He rode in his carrier in the back with the girls and was content. He'd always protest for the first few miles, but then he'd settle down and enjoy himself.

When we stopped at that McDonald's that Christmastime, I went in to acquire some beverages for the tribe. I remember that there was fresh snow on the ground, it was cloudy and cold. There was a hint of more snow to come, perhaps later that day. As I walked out to the car, I could see that the girls had let Pat out of his carrier and he was sitting in the back window of our little Hyundai, just watching the world go by.

Now every time we stop there, I look to the spot where we parked that day, and in my mind's eye I can still see Pat in the back window, with the girls behind him, laughing with the joy of it all.

That had to be sixteen years ago. That was also Pat's very last Christmas. He was born in Germany and came home with us to New England. He only lived ten short years, but gave us all an entire lifetime of cherished memories. I can't believe he's been gone fifteen years now. Time, it flies. (I daresay I've mentioned that before.)

So going home, it's like time travel. There are shades of the people, pets, and things that once were, but are no longer. They live on though, in my mind, and in my heart. Like the river which flows to the sea, that which was is no more, yet lingers. It's different water, but it's the same river.

The Connecticut River from Route 12 in New Hampshire, that's Vermont on the other side.

No matter the changes, no matter the time which has passed, I will always remember those who have gone before, and the way things once were.

Memories, I cherish them. With my family, my wife, my children and grandchildren, we make more everyday. I am truly blessed. That, I never take for granted...