When I was a child, my mother’s older sister ran a boarding house in downtown Atlanta.
I loved that place.
The first time we went there was later in the summer after my dad died, so I would have been 10 at the time. I think Mama took us there just to get away for a few days. It was my first real “vacation.”
I was fascinated by the big old house and by all the characters that inhabited it. It had so many rooms and so many different kinds of people, all living in the same house. As a country girl, the concept of unrelated people “living together” was a whole new world.
There was the young couple who lived up in the third floor attic apartment and the single working guy who lived on the first floor and rode a bike to work. An elderly gentleman lived in the basement and there were various others too, all with their own stories.
My Aunt Irene had a suite on the first floor that contained the big kitchen/dining room that she fed her boarders in twice a day and she also had a second large connecting room with several beds in it, living room furniture and a TV. I remember my mother and I slept on a bed in the corner of the room. The bathroom, complete with claw foot tub, was across the hall. I was always reminded to knock before I went in and to lock the door while inside because that bathroom was used by everyone who lived on the first floor, not just my aunt and her guests.
In the mornings, Aunt Irene would set out big plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, grits, biscuits and gravy and all these folks would come in (not all at once) and sit at the big table to eat their meal, often chatting with Aunt Irene and whatever other boarders happened to be there.
In the evenings there would be fried chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, fried okra and a variety of other things, including a dessert. I had never seen so much food.
It couldn’t have been easy to run a boarding house but it sure smelled good.
A cousin came over to play with me one day and we went outside under the huge trees in the backyard. I was fascinated that the houses were all so close together, with only a wooden fence and a few feet separating them. I remember a party going on one night in the house next door. My aunt wasn’t too happy about it as there were a lot of “hippies” going in and out and the music was turned up loud, but my cousin and I loved it. We stayed out on the back stoop until we were made to come in, giggling and dancing to the music.
Even now, every time I hear “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog” my mind takes me right back to that old boarding house at dusk, dancing on the back porch steps.
My aunt died a few years after my dad, the boarding house was sold and there were no more visits to that fascinating place, but I have often wondered about it over the years. My mother died not too many years after my Aunt Irene so we never had a chance to talk much about it. All I could remember was that it was on a numbered street like “Third Street.” I figured it was torn down long ago to make way for high rise apartments or office buildings.
Only turns out, it wasn’t.
I recently joined Ancestry.com and began putting together a family tree. Most of my close relatives are gone, so I had to rely on memory and some notes I had made from things my Mama and others told me over the years.
It’s amazing how many things are on the web these days and how many unexpected things have turned up since I began this journey.
One of those unexpected things was finding my Aunt Irene’s address at the time of her death – turns out she did live on a numbered street – Eighth Street. I was so excited to finally know the address and I quickly plugged it into Google Maps to see what the property looks like these days.
I teared up when the image appeared. The old house still stands, although I couldn’t get a really good look at it because the trees I remembered surrounding it are also still there. From property records I learned that it was built in 1930 and is now a quadraplex — two units up and two down. I also learned that it sold just last year for over $700,000 and its projected value now is over $1 million.
Wow.
Now that I know it’s still there I definitely plan to at least do a drive by one day.
One thing has led to another and I’ve found gravesites, actual census records and other old documents. Ancestry provides you with a myriad of “hints” based on the information that you enter and you can use those to look over other records to gain insight and more information about your family.
I plugged in my husband’s immediate family and up popped his parents’ marriage certificate. Both his parents are also deceased and he didn’t know where and when they married, until I showed him that document.
As the branches of my tree continue to sprout in all directions, I decided to add a DNA test to the mix and from that I’ve found out I have a whole host of cousins, some of whom I have made contact with. I am working to solve a family mystery or two as well. It’s all very interesting.
There are many downsides to online technology but this has been upside for me by allowing me to be able to put begin to put together a family history that would have otherwise been lost to me.
Seeing all those names, places, photos and other historical records makes me feel thankful to be able to know more about my family. It also helps me to see how we are all unique threads in the fabric of history and while no two of us are exactly alike, we are all connected, one way or another.
I think that’s a good thing to remember as we gather among family members and friends this week to give thanks for all that we have, and to be grateful for all those who came before us.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Margie Richards is a reporter and office manager for The Madison County Journal.
