By John R. Greenwood
My visit to my mother’s (Kubish) family home in January 2016 was a wonderful start to the new year. Not only did it revitalize my desire to write it also gave me immense satisfaction knowing the feel and integrity of the home and property had remained intact for over 180 years. The Bouchard’s were gracious hosts by opening their home to me that day. They have a large family of their own and they know the value of, “the sense of place”. The sense of place the Bouchard’s home and property possess encompasses many generations but really only three families. As I dug deeper and deeper into the history of the home, property and the town itself, the more precious that sense of place became to me. I didn’t think that was possible. I was wrong.
When Ray and I first spoke back in January he told me about a visit he had back in 1967. It was just months after they’d moved in. An elderly women showed up at the house and said she had some information they might like. The women’s name was Ida C. Standerwick. She was a Cronkhite and had been born on the property. Her father was Rueben Cronkhite and her grandfather was Merritt Cronkhite. She provided the Bouchards a wealth of information about the property and her experiences growing up there. Ray emailed me some photographs and a letter that he had retyped from a handwritten letter she’d sent him after her visit on 1967. I was like a child opening a Christmas package when I saw what Ray had sent me. The photograph of the Cronkhites standing in front of the home that held so many great family memories was a true gift to the heart. It was then that I realized how significant connecting with Ray and Carolyn had been. It clarified many things for me. I think everyone reading this will be able to identify with them.
|Very early photograph of the original tree lined Cronkhite driveway. |
Ida Standerwick gifted the photo to the Bouchard's when she visited them in 1967.
This piece is not about genealogy, it's about more than that. I love family history and the information I assembled in the last few days has been a gratifying experience. The Cronkhites are not relatives. They built the home my grandparents would later own; the place where my mother called home; the place where her five siblings would live until they began families of their own. This piece is about how important it is to have something to connect to. I was barely ten when I’d last been on this property. Those were simpler times and the memories hung with me for a lifetime. My recent visit refreshed them and made them all the more valuable. This piece is about reconnecting with something you thought you’d never see again. I was fortunate enough to have someone open a door that allowed me re-entry into the physical past. Relocating a remote cemetery, seeing an old shed covered in it's original garb, seeing the rock covered hill that seemed mountain-like as a child, all swirled together to remind me how lucky I was to have lived a life full of so many great memories.
The second point I’d like to make is how important it is to act upon your instincts. Don’t be stifled by the fear of the unknown. I think of all the years I drove past the long driveway leading to the old farm, too afraid or too busy to pull in and just knock on a door. It wasn’t as though Ray was a stranger. I knew who he was. He’d been a teacher of mine. He was known for his generous and helpful nature. This is just one of those things you say, “someday” to over and over again. You would think in a fifty year span I could have made someday, that day.
| Late 1940's early 1950's|
My father Ralph Greenwood and my grandparents Joseph and Johanna Kubish
I called my grandparents Baba and Zedo
If you have an old friend you keep planning to contact or an old place you keep meaning to return to, don’t wait another day. Get on your bike, get in your car, grab your sneakers, get a plane ticket, most of all get moving. Don’t sit idle waiting for memories to come to your door. Get out there and create a new one. I’ve become inspired by my new found friends Ray and Carolyn. Their kindness will have a long-lasting affect on me and my future adventures.
I asked Ray if he minded me sharing the letter Ida C Standerwick had sent him. He never hesitated for a second, he encouraged me to use anything he’d shared. I was fascinated by the letter and the information it contained. I will insert it here.
Merritt Cronkhite Home
Merritt Cronkhite built the house about 1834-1835. It was well constructed, the cellar with it’s thick walls was immune to frost. Bricks lined the walls to add protection from the cold. I think the cistern was not built until the house had a slate roof. I do not know it’s date. The cellar had rows of bins for storage of potatoes and apples, the winter vegetables of carrots and squash. We had a variety of apples called, “Rusty Coats” that lasted until the early variety, “Astrakhan” came in early July, so we were never without apples. My father sold the first quality apples for table use, others were taken to a cider mill, converted into cider, then stored in the cellar where it became vinegar, which found a market in grocery stores in town. There were also shelves to hold a supply of canned fruit, jellies, preserves, and pickles.
The original layout of the house was changed somewhat after my grandfather passed away. The stairs went up from the back hall, and a bed sink or recess was removed from the living room and a closet built in it’s place, and the stairs turned around going up from the front hall. The back hall became a kitchen. A small bedroom opened from the living room. The original chimney had a fireplace with crane, pot hooks, and hand irons. We took them with us when we left the farm, and eventually they were installed in our home that my husband and I built on Staten Island, living in it 42 years until we came to Ossining in 1958. The mantlepiece in the parlor is the handiwork of my grandfather, as well as the woodwork under windows, baseboards, and doors. The porch was added at the time of other changes.
The yard on the south side of the house called, the front yard, had many old-fashioned flowers, peonies, bee balm, flowering current, phlox, both pink and white, a bed of ribbon grass are some that I remember. Under the parlor windows were old fashion double roses various shades of pink, there were two lovely tress, one a balsam, the other a spruce. There was also a pear tree that bore pears that ripened in the winter, stored in the cellar.
In the picture you can see a wee bit of picket fence built around the yard. My mother always had a flower bed in the yard near the porch.
At the end of the lane approaching the house, were three large willow trees. As one turned up the hill toward the house there was big butternut tree on the right. In the picture you can see it’s branches and the rock on which I spent happy hours, my play house. The well was at the foot of the hill on the left as you went up the hill to the house. Water was drawn by bucket on a chain, turned by a handle. One could see the bottom of the well where water came in through a rock. It was never dry. I do not know the present source of water supply. There was a spring on the left hand side of the lane as you leave the main highway, source of a small brook. East of the butternut tree were several black walnut trees. We let the squirrels have them, but we enjoyed the butternuts. Near this group of trees were two buildings, one a shop which had all sorts of tools, including some kind of a contraption used to mend harnesses. Nearby stood a grindstone for sharpening the farm tools, especially the scythes and axes.
The other building housed the swine in winter time. It had a chimney and a big iron kettle used to cook provisions for the pigs. The kettle was used for the making of soft soap. In the summer time the pigs were moved to an outdoor location beyond the barns, near the corn crib. The corn crib was built with air space between the upright boards and was set on posts two or three feet above ground to provide ample airspace. After corn had been cut and husked, the corn was stored in the crib. One other important building was a small smoke house near the shop. It was quite tightly built, had a small door, inside in the center was an iron kettle in which a smoldering fire of corn cobs and hickory wood was built to provide the smoke to cure the hams, bacon, and slabs of beef for “dried” beef.
In the picture, the building parallel with the house was a long building with an open shed at one end for storage of implements, and farm wagons, midsection was the woodshed and the portion at the right also had a chimney and facilities for cooking and a brick oven for baking bread. This was used in the summertime- (No air conditioning or electric fans in the “good old days”). A stairway led to space for storage of smaller farm tools, odds and ends of lumber.
The picture also shows a bit of the “carriage house” where ordinary wagons for business and pleasure were kept. The barns were built in the form of a right angle. One portion had stables for horses and storage for hay and grain. The other portion had stables for the cows with space overhead for more hay. West of the barns and adjacent to them was an orchard of apples and peaches. Beyond the orchard were three fields separated by stone walls. These were cultivated, oats, corn, buckwheat in rotation. There were several trees bearing chestnuts on the north side bordering on the wooded section of pines. There was a large boulder in the woods. It must still be there. We called it “The jumping off place”. These woods had an abundance of spring flowers, trailing arbutus, wild orchids, and trillium among those I recollect. The ground was covered by a creeping vine, “evergreen” we called it, but I think it was princess pine, not sure, also there was a carpet of wintergreens with berries so pleasant to eat.
The fields on each side of the lane past the little cemetery were under cultivation, potatoes, garden vegetables mostly. Near the brook marsh marigolds grew in early spring. We called them cowslips and gathered them to cook like spinach, leaves and blossoms too. With the exception of two fields, land on both sides of the highway east extended to the property line of the next farm home for many years of Mr. Hawkins. On south side of the highway were meadows and more woods, much being hardwoods, maples, etc… In all there were more than two hundred acres. A large area north of the cemetery plot was the pasture for the cows. Maple trees grew along the lane and elsewhere here and there. In springtime they were tapped and the sap made into syrup or sugar.
Ida C. Standerwick