Saga of a Little WhiteHouse - page one- feb 11

Smith Family Fairfield Connecticut - Love Story

The watercolor here is one of  the little house that gramps bought for gram when they married - she was 4'10" and he 6'4" and for all 50 years there, gramps exulted in the fact that his arms and legs went out the doors and windows...couldn't care less... the little dolly house charmed him like the dolly he bought it for , and with additions to the family , additions to house happened in all directions - and so the poem and I hope you enjoy the read !   elle  

The moon was full, the hour late, When the phone call came

Your Father's family homestead Has been consumed by flame! 

The folks are safe, the fire put out;  but don't,  just yet, come 'round - 

Since we're all adjusting To the house done down to ground. 

Not quite a hundred years ago, On a finer day, 

Jim Smith, "The Chief", had brought his "Else" To live and love and stay! 

His six-foot-four, her four-foot-six, Borne lightly in his arms, 

Would work, and bear, and laugh and fight And farm the little farm. 

For fifty years and more 'tis known, For love of God and Man; 

For one fair daughter, eight fine sons, Who helped to till the land. 

For fifty years and more 'tis known, The house a family forum 

For joy and woes unnumbered, And often quite a quorum! 

So much so, in later days, Each morn the flag was raised 

At the "Little Whitehouse", And all about it praised. 

But that skips the story, So let's resume the tale, 

And take it back to early days Such memories don't pale: 

The house was small; times were hard, Days it fair would quake, 

Oh! the din and doin's that such a brood could make! 

The Homestead’s still, a palace - Since from Eire came he, 

To training first, in Sheffield per America's entry fee! 

Immigration laws had changed, the streets were lined with hordes 

Of unskilled starving workers, And so they said, "No more!" 

It isn't fair to them or us, A new rule must be made! 

From now on, new arrivals must have a decent trade! 

Young and brave and work-proud! New goals and free from want! 

New home in fair Connecticut; New work with grand DuPont 

The Fairfield Coated Fabrics plant Was part Big Jim's construction. 

His finely trained steamfitter's skills Enabled grand production 

Not one weak joint, not one down day At Fairfield's plant, for sure! 

He steamed and worked and wrought, until Becoming too mature 

And Big Jim Smith, a work-proud man, was called upon once more 

"It's just the new addition, Chief - They're tearin' up the floor!" 

"The plant you built so long ago - Well, Chief, they've lost the plans, 

Drawn to show the fittings set, Installed by Jim Smith's hands! 

And now they can't connect the pipes from older wing to new, 

And since your work installed them, We thought we'd come to you!" 

And so, at age of eighty-five, With hair of snow, and cane, 

He led a workman's entourage, To save the day again! 

"Start your workmen, here!", he points, "And fifty feet due west, 

but there you'll find an angle joint, Turns South for all the rest!" 

And strolling through the plant that day, Each steam pipe mapped anew! 

And when the men went by his word, Each bit of it went true! 

Each fitting where he said it was, And so the job completed 

The new addition - and the boss - no longer overheated! 

If Big Jim Smith felt too retired and obsolete till then, 

From that day on 'twas not the case - His memory served his men! 

His Irish barrel-chestedness Now swelled about the house 

Bringing smiles of pride and joy To his adoring spouse! 

To run the show at work that day, Took Chief's good mem'ry back 

To years of sweat and labor, Time of awful lack! 

"The Roaring Twenties’ " promises inspired large investments 

And even larger families - Then came the Big Depression! 

Work alone was not enough To keep his family thriving, 

So make the garden large enough To earn some extra living. 

And so, with home-farm underway, Jim could work his trade, 

And, even at the worst of it, A week's pay honest wage. 

And now, "meanwhile, back at the ranch", Was industry as well, 

And quite a crew came running - Elsie rang the dinner bell! 

Jim from work, and daughter, Em, near seven sons at table, 

The seventh, grown, would join them, too, whene'er he might be able! 

Good corned beef and cabbage Tho' sometimes lean of that! 

But grace o'er all, all the same, 'And please remove your hat.' 

And, in the evening, such a brood Was Grandpa's built in choir! 

To sing the holy lyrics And best you never tire! 

Picnics in the summertime, Father in at Christmas, 

Years flew past, the children grew, And a change in business. 

Hitler to be put to route, And later on, Korea: 

Jim and Elsie's sons, a Patriotic panacea!

Eldest of Jim's early days, was Tom,  too old to serve.

Joe was ill and stayed at home, and youngest, Bob, reserved-

For Korea later on;  but that still left five sons ! 

With those Smith boys marching, our flag not tread upon!

 Army heroes, three would march;  and one  USMC,  

Dad, the one air corpsman, and so proud to be !

And home again with grateful hearts,  And hearts aburst with pride! 

And little Elsie waiting there, And Big Jim at her side! 

The joyful vets homecoming, though, had come at awful cost! 

Famous fighting Sullivan Brothers Had recently been lost: 

In Patriotic Brotherhood, They'd asked to serve together- 

A happy, fighting Irish show they'd made,  in finer weather! 

But then the game went serious, Their ship under attack- 

The bomb barrage so brutal, Not one of five came back! 

Their parents stunned forever, A grieving country ceded, 

"Such a tragic happening Must never be repeated!" 

 Siblings nevermore would serve same field of combat duty, 

The new  law for large families, Saved many, absolutely! 

The five fighting Smith Brothers home at last, To study war no more! 

They left home boys, but came home men, From the work of war! 

Full of new maturity To make their grownup lives 

And work for peace and plenty, And all in need of wives! 

Fairfield girls, look out this year! Our boys are back and fine! 

Elsie's rose and lilacs, And love this year, divine! 

Our bachelor heroes laughed, In search of love and marriage 

A driveway full of 'hot-rods' Replacing Big Jim's carriage! 

Postwar weddings in a row, And livings to be made 

And life was on to grand new work, Hitler's plan unmade! 

Gram's  eldest, Em, now on her own, a wife and mom to four- 

at summer trips to "Auntie Em's" No day was a bore! 

Gail, "theGolden Pipe-curls Girl",   "52-pick-up"Billy, 

And Donna "Midge",   with beauty that was cool, and not too frilly... 

And, still there was their Lynn to come, like Gail, a valentine! 

Come pitch in and help with chores; Let's get this place to shine! 

Then out to games with Ginger-pup, Or help to feed the sheep 

And fun with roadside veggie stands - We earned an angel's sleep! 

So, Em was "set for life",they'd say, And getting in her stride, 

Her seven younger brothers near and Working side-by-side: 

Bill Smith did construction In the Battle of the Bulge 

Sarge, he brought 'em back alive - A grateful tear indulge! 

Next, the AlCan Highway Got his workman's hand 

New roads and worlds and lives - This country's getting grand! 

Young Jim had ways with critters, so the game preserve was his 

And Animal Control, as well, at local and state biz. 

His gardens and their produce became a second focus 

He's got so famed for all of it! It must be "hocus- pocus!" 

"Charlie" found his stride in work, behind "The Chief's" fine start 

At DuPont's coated fabric plant And brought it up to art 

American involvement,now, In space exploration 

Was in the headlines every day, To fascinate the nation. 

E.I.DuPont, with science strength, Was honored and invited 

To manufacture spacecraft parts The whole town was excited! 

And NASA's work for Charlie Smith? The Gold Mylar production: 

"Lunar Landing Module Wrap Stops hurtful heat conduction!" 

"One small step for Man" took place, We shared a private pride, 

Good and simple folk rejoiced At so profound a stride! 

Tho',"Don't be makin' such a fuss!", Was Charlie's stock reaction, 

Forever after, memory Brought secret satisfaction! 

Henry, Army MP Veteran, found his finest place 

in Fairfield's Police Force And Sunday Cycle Race! 

He grew to fine Detective work and civic work in town. 

There doesn't live the man who could ever do him down! 

Joe's the one we pray for, Born with health so frail- 

Leukemia took him from us Too young to leave a tale. 

But not before he married, So there were children three 

To say he'd graced this earth awhile Before eternity! 

Al, with All-American Entrepreneurial inclinations 

Does success and failure Without exasperation! 

He's good at family conscience - Lest, busy, we forget 

Who shored us up when times were hard And made us better, yet! 

Youngest, Bob, was gifted with a fine mechanic's hand 

On any point of logic, He'll talk "to beat the band"! 

Rain or shine, each Sunday found A quorum of the brood 

At the Turnpike homestead For ball and talk and food. 

The front-porch overflowing with the casual convention - 

Rocking chairs to charm the way through all "bones of contention!" 

We were just rapscallions, then The grownups such a din! 

"Good Talk", a world of wonder where our stars had popped us in! 

"And who's up next for Governor?" "And the city mayor?" 

"Is it prince or crook we're voting In to boss the players?" 

"And who's the Home-run leader, now, In our New York Yankees?" 

"Will they beat 'dem bums' again Or send us for our hankies?" 

In summertime we'd take our turn At Grandma's house to stay 

Creating summer memories That warm us till this day. 

The rooster's crow alarm clock And feet on icy floor... 

A warm and smiling breakfast And soon right out the door. 

My morning walk with Grandpa White-haired and with cane 

Along the flagstone backyard path That led to wooded lane. 

The special-ness of morning! Grandpa's hand for mine! 

How blessed and graced to know it ! A special trusting time. 

"Where we going, Grandpa?" " Off to Praying Rock. 

There we'll say the Rosary And with our God we'll talk." 

Uphill, the winding pathways Led to a Grampa's tree, 

And "Praying Rock" placed at its foot...A help for bended knee. 

A simple cross carved on it's trunk, A prayerful perfect place! 

To know the Lord's own sweet delight And thank Him for His grace! 

The Holy moment passing, Once more we'd take the path 

Away from woodsy silence, To Grandma's welcome laugh!

End page one -

Imageclick for the conclusion of the Saga of a Little WhiteHouse

Saga of a Little WhiteHouse - page two-feb 11

Smith Family Fairfield Connecticut - Love Story

Hot tea, corned beef and cabbage, A boiled potato pile, 

And lots of bread and butter To make Grandfather smile. 

"We'll bow our head in blessing For these gifts of food, 

We knew a day without them And rocked a famished brood." 

A bit of pie or cake To follow, made the fete

A simple home-cooked meal A thing we'd not forget. 

Lace curtains at the window;  Oilcloth on kitchen board

Blue Onion English China So proudly used and stored

In Grandma's china closet, On doilies she'd crochet. 

"Come on, our Elle, I'll wash them up! You dry and put away!" 

And then, into the parlor Or front porch for the rest

And lap chores done by suppertime " Let's see who does them best!" 

"Sing the old songs, would you, While we snap the beans? 

Make the list for shopping... I'd better mend the jeans!" 

My favorite time with Grandma,  For stories she would tell

Of days before my memory, When she was quite the belle! 

And dances were life's heaven!  Feathers for the hair! 

Beaus in line on dancefloors, To woo a Lady Fair

Her Father's consternation was Her secret, happy goal, 

He'd fuss and fret and fluster, And care about her soul; 

Forbid one dance too many, Insist she get her rest; 

So out the backyard window,  Elsie danced - said she knew best, 

What lively occupation Would keep her in the pink... 

Fathers!  Such a bother!  Dear! What he must think! 

Among the handsome fellas, One did win her hand

But marriage did not suit him - He left to join a band. 

The wedding ring - their baby - Neither lasted long... 

Happy days at dancing, But now a sadder song! 

A sadder lass, and wiser, Less eager for the guys- 

And mem'ries of the baby, Would tear her hazel eyes. 

On her own, she 'plied her trade, And sewed fine leather seams, 

Feeling all was over, Her life bereft of dreams. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A days ride off, by buggy, Big Jim had woe as well; 

The lass he loved had left him!  His youthful spirits fell! 

Only in his twenties! His tears went all the night! 

His legs would not sustain him! HIs black hair turned to white! 

Back to folks in England, He took his aching heart! 

And soon back to the USA, To make a brand new start! 

His soul was a romantic's,  but, this time, to this land, 

He brought a healed head and heart,  And a well-trained hand! 

At sight of Emily Robinson,  He knew he'd met his fate! 

He loved her and He won her!  They soon would set the date. 

His tiny doll to carry Through their own front door, 

To start new life together, Alone and sad, no more! 

Being Irish Catholic  t'was painful for them tho' 

Took time and and tears and trouble To clear from former beaus. 

But more than fifty years from then, Jim and Elsie stood- 

Time and toil and trouble Had only done them good! 

Grandma's eyes, still smiling At Grandpa's "blarney" talk : 

"My dear, my queen, my honeybee! It 's time to take my walk." 

A child's eyes, learning wisdom, My memory is clear: 

"Marriage gets more "worth it", with each succeeding year" 

The small considerations, Affections true and fine, 

The special, simple moments 'Tween two of such long time! 

Love's fires honed through trials; Life's share of good and bad! 

But Jim and Elsie made it... And now the fun they had! 

Proudly side by side, still,  Scores of fine descendents! 

The "Little Whitehouse" busier Than ever with dependents. 

And on the porch, one Sunday, While rocking in the breeze, 

Grandpa, "Chief","Big Jim" Had words for me like these: 

"Now, Elle, we'll soon be "passing", but I will not leave this earth, 

Till you've found your Irishman To love for all yer' worth

And brought him here to see me, And proper' beg your hand, 

For, with my will and blessing , The marriage will be grand !" 

To each of near a score of us, Such words, I'm sure he found - 

To each of near a score of us, Such words, we felt, profound ! 

Destiny is funny- It did work out that way! 

My Irishman, he  won me, Before Grandpa's last day... 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

For more than half a century, The Front-porch occupations

Included observation time, Of passing population. 

Of course, the scene before them Changed with passing days, 

From horse-and-buggy-rutted dirt, To streamlined cars and ways. 

Jim 'n' Else, young parents- They knew each passing soul, 

And joyed in observations As each life would unfold! 

"There's this one and there's that one, Out for Sunday air

And isn't this one growing fine, And that one growing fair ?" 

Each passing soul identified, And each one's story told: 

The Story of a Century In time, did true unfold! 

Time and population growth Were bound to have their way. 

So no one was at all surprised 'Tho sad, when came the day, 

Chief pronounced most solemly, He'd no longer thrive: 

"Just can't watch these cars go by!" - His last words said alive. 

Ten steps over from his chair We heard his figure drop, 

His heart as big as Heaven, Came to final stop. 

First Selectman Sullivan Head the long cortege

Of mourners' cars lined up for miles To lay Jim to his rest. 

But not without a plenty To carry on his life

Ninety years on God's Green Earth, And Elsie for his wife! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The fire that struck the homestead occurred one February

The feelings running 'way too high -To dare the literary

Photos of the home today Would not be ones to charm

The fire gutted much of it. In order to disarm

The raging of the flames that night The lilacs standing near

Were chopped away near' totally As sense dictates, I hear.

And finally the land was sold and buildings soon removed.

But by an old-days neighbor with resources loved.

The site is lovely once again - although much too serene.

But at the front and center yard there grows an evergreen

So tall, I had to write this poem with verses tall enough

To make a garland for her boughs and all that sort of stuff.

And in 1911, Grandpa bought the home- 

from one of Southport's seamen who much preferred to roam

And so, the house a shack, at best, From little use and care

But with the shack came property Whose worth could well compare

In fact Big Jim took pleasure, sure, That the house was small

Tiny Else felt fine in it, And Big Jim felt so tall! 

With all his skills and talent He feared not o'er the thought

Of home improvement labors And proud of all he wrought! 

A woodsy wagontrack was all The road there was before it

And path for wagon on the right And a barn to store it

Grandpa's old days tales to me, 'times involved his horse

Several worthy animals in all those years, of course! 

He'd call all  them "Dobbin" to keep the telling plain

But honored faithful service- Each one earned their grain! 

At one time the lot next door was a shallow pond

Now in nearby reservoirs, the floody pond is gone.

Sturdy black rock ledges that gave the road its name

North and West about the house, Provide a natural frame

Grandma's rambler roses, at southwest aspect, 

Still love to climb the rock edge And thrive right through neglect

When the road got busy, East and South were placed

Trees creating privacy The view was surely graced

And land once used for farm crops, And bantam rooster coops

Bore my Father's shop; And bunkhouse where Scout troops

Enjoyed the camp experience; now houses Smith descendents- 

The youngest of "the boys" And house pet dependents! 

Lilies, mums, peonies, Rose of Sharon, too! 

Bring us back to Elsie's house, With its folks, it grew. 

In time, "The Chief's" additions to the Captain's shanty

included airy sunporch, parlor, bath and pantry! 

Big Jim built the chimney, teaching sons the art

of placing brick and mortar- A box for chimney form was smart- 

It helped with sound construction, beauty and good flue, 

The sons surrounding father- a fascinated crew! 

Several days'production, a few feet every day

The form slid up along each time, Until it made its way

to the rooftop level, then its mortar seal

They told the story better - They made it seem so real! 

Gas and then electric replaced the coal and wood

The mantle, left "for looks" alone But still the chimney stood. 

A dormer for the upstairs, And for the porch, new floor

Failing white birch trees replaced, that once had graced the door

But Jim and Else were older When they became a pair

And their age was motive To their many heirs

Who came in love and duty To effect repairs

But, sometimes, now the fixups Only added to their cares! 

Their children were perplexed at this, With no AARP

To help with helping seniors With needed remedies

And so they did their best To deal with true compassion

And stopped with home improvements And updates in the fashions

To stop time from passing, -the house kept in the style

of Jim and Else's heyday And ease their days awhile

Big trouble with that logic showed up later, though

When there was real need for change, They couldn't make it go! 

The place became first "charming", Then "a bit run down", 

Then "just plain eccentric"! At odds with all the town! 

But just then, grown grandchildren Learned of the situation

Arrived with reinforcements, of work and love and patience. 

We seemed to be a vitamin, Good order was renewed, 

For needs of health and safety And some beauty,too! 

I myself was able due to relocation

to spend some helpful time onsite- nostalgic work/vacation! 

We cleaned, and fixed and hauled away- replaced, restored, renewed! 

By "quittin' time" in fixup days, We really earned our food! 

Ladies love a makover, And so, though inconvenienced, 

The project was a big success And earned us all some lenience! 

And at days' end we did it As in days of yore : 

Sang Jim Smith's old favorites And tucked down wanting more! 

More work to be done yet, But a break was needed

Some would have no more for now And so the rest conceded

Talk of late was leaning toward project renewal... 

Time had passed, neglect was feared, a state which would be cruel

My work had taken me away; I felt it not my right

To impose myself on them, and stay again onsite. 

And just a few weeks later The housefire did its worst! 

The feelings of its residents are still now being nursed... 

But all were safe and sound Who resided at the place

We calmed, and counted blessings, And thanked Him for His Grace! 

And at this writing, study of plans for restoration, 

may ,in the final tally, bring the devil consternation! 

To hold a hand marked "loser" And turn it into winner, 

Builds character they say, and so we still just "earn our dinner". 

These lines are just a portion of The Little Whitehouse tale, 

But I'd better stop for now Or find myself in jail! 

A promise, or a warning ? There's much more to come... 

A tale so rich in telling, The writer's overcome! 

Originally shared at Dad's funeral May 13th 1999. I like to share it at the patriotic holidays.

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