Remembering Papa Howe

It was very cold and wintry last week, just what you’d expect here in January. The wind blew hard most days. The snow isn’t deep, but the wind has pushed it into drifts that in places reach my knees. We’ve been careful to keep the house warm enough to prevent the pipes from freezing again. When we have leftovers from dinner we just cover them and set them on the back porch, which is much colder than our freezer. I’ve been working on my seed orders and have them almost ready. I won’t send them until our tax return comes.

The back yard this afternoon. That drift by the compost drum is almost four feet deep.

This Tuesday, the 28th of January, is my grandfather’s birthday. Lawrence Evered Howe was born 120 years ago in 1894 in Genesee, just nine miles or so from where I’m sitting. I don’t know where exactly he was born, if it was right in town or in an outlying area. I don’t know if the house he was born in is still standing. I do know that when he was young his father Theodorus Howe, bought a hundred acres of land and built a house and a barn half way between Genesee and Gold in a place called Keech.

My grandfather at 8 months.

Papa with his sister Sarah.

I know where Keech is (was) even though it is no longer marked on maps. At one time there were several farms there and a school and a post office. The old school is still there. It was made into a house and someone lives in it. The Howe farm is gone now. The house burned long ago. The barn, the last thing left standing, was there until almost 2000. On every visit we made to Potter County when I was young my aunts made sure to point that barn out to me and tell me “This is Keech.” My grandfather loved Keech. I’ve heard the stories of his happy childhood there. But not from him. Or if I did, I don’t remember.

The Howe farm at Keech.

The Genesee High School basketball team. Papa is in front on the right.

Papa in World War I.

My grandfather died in 1960 when I was just two years old. I have no real memory of him, but there is a feeling that wells up in my mind when I try to remember him. I think the feeling is love. I know that he loved me. I’ve heard stories all my life from my parents about how much Papa loved me. Those stories and that feeling of love have shaped my life in many ways.

My grandparents, Nana and Papa, were both chiropractors and although they both grew up and loved Potter County, during the Great Depression they struggled to keep their practice going. They lived here in Gold for a while, in this very house, and had an office here. They also lived for a time in Galeton and in Westfield over in Tioga County. They also had offices in both those places. In the 30's they moved south to New Cumberland, Pennsylvania, just across the river from Harrisburg. That’s where they raised their family – my father and his two sisters, Joyce and Sally. Eventually they settled at 431 Bridge Street in a big old house. My grandparents’ chiropractic office was on the first floor. They lived on the second floor. When my father grew up, he became a chiropractor too, and when his parents retired, he took over their practice and moved into that house where he raised his family for a while. That’s where I lived for the first ten years of my life.

Papa at Chiropractic college. He's on the left with the skull.

Papa was raised on a farm and he remained a farm boy all his life. Everywhere he lived he planted a garden. I grew up in the ruins of his garden at 431 Bridge Street. His love of gardens and farm life passed on to me. Everywhere I’ve lived, in Ohio, in Illinois, in California, I too have planted gardens. Now I live in a place where he once lived and I have gardens where he once planted gardens too. It is in my gardens that I have always felt closest to him. I felt it as a child in New Cumberland as I watched the flowers that he planted come up each spring. I feel it here as I tend my flower beds, vegetable gardens, and orchard. One of the nicest compliments I ever received was from Papa’s sister, my Great Aunt Eleanor. After we moved here, we would often visit her in the retirement home where she lived. In the summer I’d take her vegetables from my garden. One time as we sat and talked of family and gardens she said to me, “You remind me so much of Lawrence. You’re like him in so many ways.” I still smile when I think of it.

Papa with his sunflowers.

My grandfather, Lawrence Evered Howe.

It's cold and snowy today. On our way to church this morning we saw that big eagle I mentioned two weeks ago again. It was feeding on a deer carcass in about the same spot as the last time we saw it. This time I got a closer look at it and determined that it is an immature bald eagle, not a golden eagle. It’s a huge, magnificent bird. On the way home from church the eagle wasn’t there, but there was a group of ten ravens. They looked beautiful against the white snow. Ravens are one of my favorite birds. These cold snowy months are hard on a lot of wild animals. I don’t think that deer carcass will last long. These cold snowy months are hard on people too. I just looked at the weather forecast for the coming week and I see wind chills in the double negative digits again. I have to keep reminding myself that with every passing day we grow closer to spring.