Who are they kidding?

I’m thinking of those ridiculous online ads that purport to be something about Maine but show us images of urban Arizona or maybe Miami, the furthest opposites to where I live yet purporting to be local for here. You know, most affordable housing or food delivery or the ten best restaurants or plumbers in Eastport. We don’t have nearly that many. Got it?

Many of them somehow zero in on tiny East Machias or, for our weather almanac, as St. John, New Brunswick, or Halifax, Nova Scotia. Do note that East Machias is not Eastport. They’re an hour apart.

There’s also the Microsoft ab that proclaims “Eastport light traffic,” which is truly baffling. There are only three or four traffic lights in the entire county, OK? Heavy traffic, apart from road construction, is usually three or four vehicles.

These are even worse than the late-night TV commercials that couldn’t come close to properly pronouncing where we lived in the Pacific Northwest.

What do you know of the history of your home?

When our planned substantial renovations finally began last autumn, our contractor began uncovering particulars that indicated the house might be even older than we had reckoned.

It was enough to prompt me to follow up on friendly banter by more than one person who asked if I’d ever gone to the county courthouse to “run the deeds” back to the original owner.

Quite simply, no, not here or in the previous two homes I’d purchased and later sold as I moved on.

While I’ve done a great deal of genealogy, courthouse records were one line of research I’d never pursued. I had encountered other researchers who specialized in family properties and last wills and testaments, and I was grateful for what those legal documents added to the family picture.

Even so, do accept my disclaimer regarding some of the dates and locations that pop up as I applied that line of inquiry to our old residence. What I’ve gleaned and present here is in an attempt to get a big picture of the lives that have intertwined with the house we purchased and renovated. Some of the connections are admittedly soft and subject to further revision. I am surprised by how many gaps remain.

Keeping that in perspective, I did finally trot off to the Washington County courthouse in Machias, an hour away. Let me say that digitalizing the archived records has made this field much easier and more accessible, and the registrar of deeds and her staff proved to be very helpful and friendly.

The fateful day my curiosity about our house finally led me to the registrar of deeds in Machias came about while I needed something to round out the day while my computer was in the repair shop a mile or so away.

To get the bigger picture, I set forth with a sense of trepidation. Armed with little more than the plot number of our lot, I anticipated technical complications, a tangle of legalese requiring translation, and dark, dusty confines. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised to find the room well lighted and organized the staff both friendly and helpful. Better yet, the transactions have been digitalized in an easily navigated system. The original records were also at hand, should I desire, and I wouldn’t have to interrupt anyone to help me follow these.

Each transaction included a reference to the book and page numbers of the previous purchase, which was all you needed to trace the line of owners.

If only it were that easy.

~*~

Running the deeds means starting with the most recent transaction and working down through time, document by document.

Despite its modest appearance, our house has an unexpected significance, as you will find.

There are good reasons I’m calling my findings a genealogy of an old house. We’re surprised by some of the characters who’ve lived here.

Takin’ a country train

Thorndike, traffic jammed before the train station.
I park on grass down the line
hope the engine sans heat plate doesn’t ignite a fire

one train pulls out just before I can buy my ticket
but sunny, definitely – a 25-minute delay

Old Swedish dining car
meaning prime cutting-edge 1950s

cardinal tattoos on somebody

what faint blue mountains were in the distance
before the 220 turnoff?

return trip train car sinks on one side
before leaving the festival stop

worrisome, slows the run back to terminal
its sharp curves especially front car’s detached before final run
to fairgrounds and back