For many years, when I used to take kids to a creek to play in the next county, a nice old fellow would walk down the road and talk with us. He was very pleasant, had wonderful stories and really seemed thrilled that we were down there playing out in the middle of nowhere. He thought I reminded him of his mother, because when he was a young boy, she would take him hunting and fishing too, and not many women did that. (He never mentioned a father.) He showed us remains of an old homestead and rock well near the creek, warned us of a cougar, told adventures of the Navy and how he almost died of a disease and the nurse that saved him. He was very fond of the nursing and teaching profession and could talk about any subject, as all he did was read books on any topic all day long...
As he lived at the end of a dead end, we never ventured up further than the creek, but once I noticed a terribly scary spot on his leg (he showed me a spider bite) and I urged him to go to the doctor or I would take him if he needed a ride. He did have a truck with an 'indian bead' necklace inside and explained how he'd made it as a child--and he liked to 'garage sale' on Saturdays-- he did get to the doctor just in time. One summer we didn't wade much--kids were getting too old to hang out with mom, and I heard in the Fall he went to the VA Hospital with prostate cancer...
I went to his funeral when he had passed away in late February or March?; I felt like I should go because who else would? A few neighbors did go--in this remote area, neighbors lived a few miles away. The next day, a man called and told us we were welcome to go to this fellow's house and take anything we wanted, since we had treated him kindly. I went out to dig up some bulbs, remembering that his mother supposedly raised irises in a lovely garden many years ago.
What beheld me was something I will never forget. I think I walked around in a daze for an hour, gathered myself together, then drove home and got my son. We returned and I quietly told him to open the front door and will never forget the look on his face. I can't even describe it. He walked away immediately and browsed around the outbuildings and woods, visibly shaken. I explored, with tears streaming down my cheeks, shaking my head the entire time. 'This could not happen'. I cried the rest of the night and for several days after that...
When Brigg came back, all I could sob was, “Where did he sleep? Where did he sleep?” It was damp, my fingers frozen, starting to sprinkle, so we left but returned the next day, probably thinking we'd both had the same nightmare or just to make sure what we saw wasn't a mirage...
Opening the front door; there was about 10" of space to step inside.
Kitchen to the right; crawl over about 2' deep items to get there...
Other side of kitchen; somewhere there is a sink, oven, fridge.
Back Room; all of these suitcases and cases contained items.
Bathroom; about waist high, non-working toilet buried, as was sink. Clean shirts hung above.
Inside the front door; looking left to narrow hallway. No bare floor.
There were at least 13 outbuildings containing everything imaginable.
Most buildings were impossible to enter, unless you were a good climber. Very treacherous footing.
Also some converted, rotten railroad cars used for storage.
3 old washers; I think there were 10 more, plus countless old TVs.
One of the many antique vehicles abandoned and packed full of items. More on this later... We finally deduced that the ONLY ONLY place this man could have slept was on the seat of his working truck. It was the only space that remained uncluttered and always had been; whenever we'd see him in it--he always showed us his indian bead necklace.The Indian Bead necklace was missing from that truck. It was really the only thing I wanted...
2 comments:
Bren, that was absolutely bizzare, I was thinking of homeless with their shopping carts and the need to hoard but nothing like this. A builder that we paint for had bought this house as a tear down--and build a new one. He took eight large dumpsters of stuff out of it... three floors full. He said there was barely a foot of passageway anywhere in the house, floor to ceiling and the basement completely packed... sad but what is that?
OCD (Hoarding/Obsessive Compulsive Disorder)-- my mom worked for the state of KS helping with the elderly-- and went to a 3 story house, just as you described but with 20+ cats, so the odor was horrendous. They also pulled up the huge dumpsters...(the house was remodeled!) The bathroom was packed/non-working, so the lady peed in coffee cans and poured it down the kitchen sink-- on dishes. Gag.
Our old guy was always clean-- that's why we were so shocked, but there hadn't been running water for a couple years...we found numerous jugs of water...
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