Nana

Ogunquit Maine was the home of sweet, dear Eleanor Young, who passed away at 99 years old two weeks ago Thursday. I spent the day immediately following her death in her house. I spent the last few days with her, I loved her. I admit I got a bit weird with her dead body and there I was with it, all 99 years of it. I don’t have a mature response to death on a physical or emotional level. I tried to keep my mouth shut about covering her up but I couldn’t. Anyways we got through the funeral and I was there and I was helpful to the family.

Her ancient ramshackle homestead is right there on route 1, across the street and next door to 2 block-long one-story hotels from a time that is in no way (other than that architecture) not now. There’s an ocean on one side, a gully on the other, and I would be remiss to not mention the culvert about 100 yards up the road, installed by Eleanor’s husband Carl a quarter of a century ago.

Eleanor’s house was once a chicken coop. It was also once across the street, on the other side of route 1. The chicken coop was moved across Route One onto a man-made foundation composed of boulders, enormous rocks and other cold, heavy earth-made materials that look nothing like walls or floors but that function as such and support a one-time chicken coop being placed on top of it lovingly by….presumably people. I need to put more research into this house but I’m afraid I’ve already fallen too much in love with it and am sure to become devastatingly heartbroken again. Iquiteverything/youquitme

The drop ceilings are only 6 1/2 ‘ tall because the roof of this chicken coop was eventually raised and a 2nd story was forced into the equation to provide space for the unexpected 2nd and then super unexpected 3rd child, born 15 years apart.

There is a repurposed, rail-less staircase adjoining the first floor from the 2nd, bolted in with steel at a 10 degree angle, adorned with homemade birdhouses. I could go on about the house for hours, its magical wrap-around porch that sags in two places, the Rhododendren out back that looks like a beautiful Pizza the Hut, the several hundred-year old oak out front that it literally supporting the entire house. The twin leather lazyboys, lovingly faded and creased but still reclining with the same magic as they did on day one.

Its a time capsule, for sure. Likely to be razed and sold to a dunkin’ donuts, to feed and medicate the families who she brought into the world. All alcoholics. Ha, took a turkey turn there. I don’t know what that is.

While I was staying at Eleanor’s House I had some very big problems with families. I would say that I am in an ongoing ‘problem with families’ run – pretty much daily- for my whole life but this past year has been a blowout marquis. I had my own family problems and then I had Eleanor’s family problems, which are very close to me but they are unique from my own but equally as clear that with a bit of information, enthusiasm, education, acceptance and focus, could be resolved and improved a gazillionbazillion times.