AN ODE OF THANKS TO BLACKSMITH RICHARD

I was born in 1922 in Indiana where my ancestors had migrated to many years earlier via horse-drawn covered wagons. For the first 12 years of my life I enjoyed all the modem comforts of the times (despite the fact that it was in the middle of the famous depression!)

Then in the summer of 1935 our family of eight reversed the migration and traveled via motorized horsepower from Michigan to the hill town of Rowe, Massachusetts.

Here I had to learn to live with the discomforts of no central heat, no electricity and no running water which meant NO indoor plumbing! The one luxury we did have was a 3-hole privy in an attached shed so we didn't have to go outdoors in the dark or inclement weather. It was quite a come down to have to scoop water by the dipper full from a wooden storage tank and heat it on the wood-burning range for anything and everything from making a pot of coffee to filling the galvanized wash tub for laundry on Mondays and baths on Saturdays.

Where it used to take only a quick flip of a switch to get instantaneous light, now a complex daily ritual was required. First, the lamp base had to be filled with kerosene; then the glass chimney must be washed and dried; and finally the wick needed to be trimmed daily to even it off and get rid of the charred fibers. Ironing my clothes for school was a major operation!

No matter what the outside temperature was, a hot fire had to be maintained in the kitchen range to heat the cast iron sad irons lined up on its top waiting their turns to be picked up with a special handle to transfer their heat and weight onto the wrinkled garment.

But there was one thing I have cherished over the years to this very day and that is the smell and the warmth of a wood fire - there is nothing else like it!

My fondest memories of those childhood days involved wintry Saturday mornings. After my school homework was done for the weekend and my household chores were completed, I was allowed to draw up a rocking chair to the kitchen range, open the oven door, put my feet inside and lean back to leisurely read my favorite books to my heart's content. I never smell a wood fire without remembering those Saturday mornings so long ago, wishing I could once again experience those wonderful moments - of course without relinquishing the other comforts of life to which I have become so accustomed to!

Little did I know that some sixty years later my grandson would help to make my dream come true.

Of course he had heard the stories of my childhood days so when he came into possession of an old cast iron kitchen range, he immediately thought of me. It was in pretty sad condition but all the parts were still in tact. It was because of frequent trips he had made to Route #9 via Route #118 that he remembered seeing a business where wood stoves were restored.

By accessing the internet he was able to get the necessary information for me to contact Blacksmith Richard Richardson of the Old Time Stove Co., Inc. in Goshen, MA. That was the beginning of the fulfillment of my dream.

A visit to the Old Time Stove Museum and seeing for myself the wonderful collection of stoves from the past convinced me it was worth a try to trust Richard to bring new life into this pile of rusted iron.

I was willing to accept less than perfection as long as the resulting product could safely bum wood allowing me to simmer a pot of stew on the back surface and an oven in which to warm my always cold feet! So try to imagine my pleasure when several months later Blacksmith Richard had restored the relic from my grandson's cellar to a thing of beauty! I could now stew my supper, toast my toes, and rock and read in the very same rocker that I had used in those good old days!!