This may look like a big pile of rubble to you. But, to us it’s history. . . it’s our past. It times Margaret, our mother and I shared with our dad.
Once upon a time, many years ago, there was a old abandon mill that fell down. There was no hope for this big pile of devastation ~ until one day our father drove by and saw art laying in the rubble. He saw hand made bricks that could be used again. If only he had someone to pick them up, clean them off, and get them to a new home.
Never really seeing a problem, our father knew he could always count on the woman in his life to figure out these minor details. So, one Sunday afternoon, after Mass, our father convinced our mother and two of his little girls to go out for a Sunday drive to see a mill that fell down. It just so happened that the owner of this mill didn’t mind if . . .someone picked up the bricks and cleaned up the area just a little bit.
And that someone you see just happened to be. . . me, my mother and sister. . .that’s three.
So Margaret, our mother and I set to work with our father by our side. We piled, cleaned and scraped bricks. Two little girls, a devoted wife and the visionary moved, one by one, well over 10,000 bricks to a new home in the country.
Once there was a devastating fire in our childhood home. The bricks were used to rebuild, remodel and repair to make the house “better then ever“. There were so many bricks not all of them could be used at that time . . . So they waited. . . until at long last. . . the visionaries son used them on his own home many, many years later.