Many of us in Alaska have left family far behind in the lower 48. Some people come here to forget their family and start over. Even for those of us with happy childhoods and loving parents, at times living in Alaska makes it seem like we're the beginning of the line, defining a new path in the north.
When I visit my mom in upstate New York, however, I am immersed in family, heritage, and a history rooted in place. My mom and stepfather live in two old farmhouses in upstate New York. One they bought just as I finished college, and they moved from the Finger Lakes area, where I spent most of my youth, to the northern edge of the Adirondack park. I haven't seen that house in years because early in this decade, my mom and her siblings inherited the family homestead in Verona with a house built circa 1815. My mom eventually became the sole owner of what we have always called "the Farm."
My mom's Uncle Ed acquired the Farm in the 1950s and slowly worked on it for decades. He added electricity and plumbing and a 'modern' kitchen in the 1970s. He had hoped to live there with his mother, my great-grandmother, but she died before they could move there. Finally in the early 1980s Ed and his sister Hazel moved in. Aunt Hazel was an outgoing, stylish woman who played a mean game of cards called Spite and Malice (which as a child I thought was Spike and Alice). Unfortunately her brother wouldn't let her paint or hang pictures, and the only room in the house that didn't look like a furniture store was her bedroom.
Visiting the Farm as a kid was always a treat because it had barns with sleighs, spinning wheels in the high attic, and another attic packed with stuff. A kid could hope there was some sort of treasure there somewhere. Now visiting the Farm is a treat because my mom has turned a handsome old house into a home. My step-father Jack installed a wood stove in one of the fireplaces, making the house cozier than it ever was before. They have painted several rooms in bright warm colors. On this recent trip, my brother and I got to give opinions on which green to paint the living room.
Jack has also created trails throughout the woods and dug two ponds. Some of the land is still cultivated by farmers who rent the land from my parents. The harvested soybean and corn fields attract deer and wild turkeys, which in turn bring coyotes. After Thanksgiving dinner, we walked through the woods and circled the fields. Jack showed us where the bucks paw the ground to mark their territory.
My family has also marked this land as ours, with houses, barns, fields, and a family cemetery. These things are only slightly more permanent than the deers' marks, but much more noticeable to other humans. They say that a family has lived here and cared for this place.
