Looking Back
Way back in the early eighties, my brother, Peter, and his then girlfriend, Eileen, lived in Ed’s cabin on Grok Hill in Gilsum for four years, through three winters. They’ve both moved on, but here’s Eileen recounting her first visit back in eons.
“We borrowed a motorcycle from his friend, Bob, and biked all around the Keene area that I used to know. It was just wonderful…those windy country roads covered with trees in Fall colors. One of those two days we biked into Gilsum and then into Gilsum woods.
It was just as I remembered it…..Beech trees with yellow leaves covering the roads. It was such a good feeling to be able to point the way….know the way without thinking about it. The road into Grok Hill looked a little different because of the shed and tires, etc of the guy who bought the place at the main road there…and the old truck gone in the corner of where we always parked. We did meet the guy who lives at the main road there and talk to him on the way out. He seemed like he knew of Peter and Eileen – that was nice.
The cabin looked great from the outside….clearly you all have kept it in good shape….but I hate to say it…I was really taken aback at how dirty and unchanged the inside was. The cabin just cried out for occupants…it was hard for me to see the remnants of Peter and my life still occupying the shelves…unadorned, unchanged…mostly dirty and forlorn looking. The tiny-ness of the interior didn’t really surprise me…but the rest did. I found Peter’s recorder still there, odd books and shells and pictures….I felt like I wanted to come back for a week and scrub the whole place down and breathe some life into it. But, then I felt it wasn’t possible…it needs some occupants…or it needs to be made into a tool shed and a new cabin built. I hope that doesn’t sound terrible!
The guy at the bottom of the hill told me that he heard that Ed was moving to Colorado. Is that true? You should buy Grok Hill, Michael, if that’s true. You should buy it and build that house in the woods that you dream about! You could build at the old garden, if it is too difficult to get up to that knoll with any equipment. And you should bring in a propane tank for a cook stove and water from the well – with many filters! You don’t have to make it too “normal” with electricity, etc….but you could certainly build a more livable, usable space for you and Di and Matthew in the years to come.
It was sad for me to see Peter’s platform overlooking the orchard, fallen down…going back to the earth….also the garden fence and the shower. It was mostly sad for me….it all looked bereft of life…when it held so much life…and for me still some of my most vivid memories. Though as I said, clearly you’ve kept the cabin standing! And, I couldn’t remember for sure, but it seemed like the outside looked more finished. But even the out house looked sad. I don’t know…I really felt like going back for a week by myself and cleaning it all up…but….as I already said, I think really it needs a new young hopeful couple to breathe in new life. And I know it doesn’t take long for the mice and chipmunks to move back in with it unoccupied….but somehow I wished it was changed some….me who doesn’t like change! And, probably if it had been, I would have had my feelings hurt! Ha! ha!
So…that was my experience of Gilsum… “
I see some of the sad and forlorn, but for a post-facto outsider, it’s fascinating to see all that quiescence not as detritus, but more … hibernating artifacts, trace. And Mike (and to a lesser degree, I) have dusted and swept and otherwise tidied up now and again, which preserves what little there is of that Zen poise. Ed eases right in and makes use of some of what’s there in his visits, so it’s not entirely unutilized either.
But then, I’ve never seen it the way you did, the way you lived it …
Comment by adam — November 17, 2006 @ 8:22 am
I agree with Eileen on every one of her points!
Comment by rakkity — November 17, 2006 @ 10:02 am
“Way back in the early eighties” sounds oxymoronic to me.
Comment by Jennifer — November 17, 2006 @ 7:58 pm
Time warps and stretches when you get past a certain age.
Comment by rakkity — November 17, 2006 @ 11:38 pm
Yeah. It just blows me away to realize that, say, WWII was no further from my life than the early eighties is to my current students’ lives.
Comment by Jennifer — November 18, 2006 @ 1:14 pm
Wow, Ei, no idea you’d been up here in the last coupla weeks, revisited your past, and then shared your feelings thusly…{wish we could have visited with you}.
I remember:
The gigantic bonfire we had with Linda there for the first time, one New Year’s eve {1988?}
The granite quary nearby where we took turns contemplating jumping from a dangerous height
Sleeping in the tight little loft inside the cabin
Getting lost trying to find Spoon’s Pond in the dark
Michael, how about a fairytale story of what Gilsum — and the Miller landscape — would look like today, had different roads been taken?
Comment by smiling Dan — November 18, 2006 @ 5:22 pm
I don’t know exactly what you mean, but if it’s even close to what I think then I’d suggest we stick with out tandem storyline about work collapsing down upon our haids.
Comment by michael — November 18, 2006 @ 5:44 pm
I actually toned-down my suggestion to make it a little less obvious, going down the same thought-path as you…
I agree–haids it is…
Comment by smiling Dan — November 18, 2006 @ 7:05 pm
Every time I make moves to sell Grok Hill, my son Patrick shouts, “Nooooo!” So I guess I’ll waffle some more about it. But in retirement, our funds for property taxes and Gilsum Landowners fees are going to be stretched mighty thin.
Comment by rakkity — November 20, 2006 @ 10:04 am
Perhaps we (bloggers and fellow tree huggers) should all buy it together! It’s a wonderful place.
Comment by BirdBrain — November 20, 2006 @ 2:33 pm