Two years ago, my sister Nanette and I discussed traveling to Maine to visit our father, whose health appeared to be declining. We made the trip, and visited with him February 17-18. He died on April 16, 2024.
As I explained yesterday, the Old Man left to me a treasure-trove of photographic slides, most of which he presumably had shot. They’re all mixed up, which makes sorting through them kind of a memorial journey—no, an adventure! The current batch is so far from 1973 and ’74, and I have seen so few.
The Featured Image is one of them. The vantage point would be the snow-covered potato field behind the farmhouse and garage. I don’t recall which direction the buildings faced. Are we looking at sunrise or sunset? I guess the former, but I could be wrong.
From another perspective, here’s the farmhouse during early Spring. Lawn is green, but storm windows are still in place.
The companion photo is a Spring outdoor lunch (e.g., dinner in Northern Maine parlance), but don’t think typical weather where you might live. Aroostook County is still quite chilly this time of year. See the snow? Family is gathered in the remains of the barn. At age five, my father burned the structure to the ground when sneaking a cigarette.
Pictured to the left in the blue jacket is Aunt Marie, who passed away last year at age 90. Mom is in the middle; we lost her in August 2017. Her eldest daughter and my beloved sister Annette passed away in May 2016. Date on the original slide is May 1973. That would make Momma 31 and Annette 11.
The family farm is gone now; about three weeks before dying, my father signed a quick claim deed giving to the co-pastors of his church all of the Wilcox property over which he had legal title. About 13 months later, the couple sold the entire estate, including the portion held by a cousin. My great-grandfather had acquired the farm in 1895.
Decades ago, the property stopped looking like this photo, regardless. In the 1990s, my father demolished the house and set up a manufactured home.
Memories remain, and they resurface, because of the slide stash. I thank my father for that.
Photo Credit: Joseph Wilcox