Melrose On My Mind

Category: gardens and old home renovation | Posted: Mon Nov 05, 2007 4:35 pm

Melrose On My Mind

Awhile back, in the presidency of Garfield (the man, not the cat), I had a deep interest in history and really expected to follow that interest into the profession of teaching. But, because God has a sense of humor, he may be responsible for leading me first into journalism and then into public relations. So, while history was shunted into a drawer titled "awaiting another life," I did nothing of consequence with things historical in nature (though I admit to having done some things hysterical in nature).

I should first point out that in matters of family history, mine came primarily from Ireland and our likeliest greatest claim to fame would have been horse thieving, or finding ways to make whiskey undetected by the occupying British army. Marrying, as I did, into a family with deep North Carolina roots, especially in Eastern North Carolina, brought a certain slice of history front and center to me, and for many years, I enjoyed learning not only about the broad sweep of the state's history, but also a great deal about its deep cultural history, especially Eastern North Carolina culture. From the sidelines, I watched and learned the history that was opened to me, and contented myself with the idea that this history wasn't mine to chronicle or pass on to future generations through family stories. I was a spectator.

Two years ago, my wife died, and my being a spectator at someone else's historical drama ended. My wife had been an only child and an only grandchild. The history that had flowed over hundreds of years down the generational highways and alleyways had pooled at the feet of one woman, and out of nowhere, long before "her time," she died.

That's where Melrose comes in. It's a 200-year old antebellum home in the historic farming community of Murfreesboro, NC. It's an old house, but not in any way an ordinary old pile in the country. It looks as if it was taken from the set for Gone With the Wind , with great two-story columns rising from the front porch, topped by classical pediments, walls of brick 18-inches thick, wavy old glass, high ceilings, and a resident ghost whose acquaintance I do not care to make.

Had my wife lived, she would have happily spent the remainder of her life bringing Melrose back to life, for she was a talented interior designer and had the time and inclination to see the job was done right. It would have been a labor of love for her because she had wanted since she was a little girl to one day live in Melrose. One of her long-ago ancestors had owned Melrose, and my wife never lost sight of her interest in bringing Melrose back into the fold.

All of this means that Melrose is now on my dance card, which has not been an altogether unblemished blessing. Let me put it this way-- Melrose and I are not yet at the point where we'd be described as a "couple" along the lines of Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn.

From the outset of our relationship, I was intent on keeping things strictly platonic. I wouldn't have been surprised if it had only amounted to having a few drinks, a few laughs, and then a parting of the ways. After all, I knew from day-one that ours would be a challenging relationship. Melrose is AR (agro-rural); I'm SUSR (semi-urbo-suburbo-rural). Not even Dr. Phil can make ARs and SUSRs cohabitate successfully. Plus, Melrose is four hours from where I live and work. Not exactly easy commuting for a weekend tryst, assuming of course that I wanted Melrose for that reason. And, sad to say, Melrose is a bit dowdy. Hardly anything spoils a relationship more than dowdiness. It hasn't been updated in any serious way since the 1960s. Now, I remember the 1960s (in a hazy sort of way), and one thing I am sure of is this- it was a long time ago. 60's wallpaper. 60's bathroom and kitchen dÃƒÂ©cor. The only thing missing was a bust of Timothy O'Leary, shag carpet and a refrigerator the color of avocado.

It wasn't long before I began feeling overwhelmed. This wasn't going to work out. I could feel it. I imagine it's a feeling lots of people have experienced when facing the job of learning to love and restore an old place.

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Droopy wrote on Mon Nov 05, 2007 7:38 pm:

Did you buy Melrose after your wife died? Have you got children, and is that what it's for? It sounds like a full-time job to restore it, but it also sounds like it's worth it. I've always wanted a Gone-With-the-Wind-house.