Long goodbyes ...

I drove by Lloyd and Bessie May’s old home southwest of Russell a couple of weeks ago and just flat out had my heart broken: All that was left was a pile of ashes punctuated by two massive chimneys. What in the world happened? Don’t know and haven’t rounded up Betty Cross (nothing that happens in Russell escapes her) to ask.

This wonderful old house was built about 1881 by the Beals family, who sold it to Lloyd and Bessie long before my time. It sprawled all over the place. The principal glory was a circular walnut stairway that circled up to the second floor inside an entrance that projected from the south front of the main block. Behind were double parlors with smaller rooms beyond them. The dining room wing was east of that, and originally other rooms projected to the north of the dining room.

During the year I was shipped off to Vietnam, Lloyd and Bessie decided to move into Russell and their son-in-law and daughter, my cousins Dale and Mary Lou (May) Johnson, planned to move into the old house with their family. In the process of getting ready for the move, the Mays decided to burn excess papers in a stove attached to a chimney that wasn’t as sturdy as it had been 90 or so years earlier and set the place on fire. That took care of the north rooms and badly damaged the bedrooms above the dining room room wing.

Undeterred, Dale and Mary Lou removed the second floor of the dining room wing, cleaned the place up and moved in --- still plenty of room for a large family (old houses tended to be like that).

As the years passed, Dale died and finally Mary Lou moved a couple of years ago into a smaller and much more convenient house nearby (built by my great-grandfather, Daniel Myers Sr. for his son and daughter-in-law Nolan and Mary Stephens Myers, then moved up to the flats south of Russell when Uncle Nolan and Aunt Mary moved elsewhere).

The old May place fell into other hands, and when I drove by several months ago things were looking hopeful. The encroaching woods had been cleared and a new roof had been added. But now it’s all gone. I wonder if another chimney fire finished the work of the first.

If nothing else, that experience reminded me that I should set out to photograph some other buildings across southern Iowa that I admire --- but that are endangered. Who knows how long they’ll be around. So that’s what I did Monday.

Actually, I had promised myself I’d stay at home in Chariton and tend to business. But one thing led to another --- got the oil changed (finally) and it seemed a shame to waste fresh oil, the sun was shining (that didn’t last) and the colors of the fall foliage were at their best. And I needed eggs (I’m partial to those produced by the Burkholder hens at Mt. Sterling) and bread (none better than loaves produced by the Hillside Bakery near Milton). That all comes together, along with all sorts of other wonderful stuff, at the Mennonite-operated Dutchman’s Store at Cantril, just off Highway 2 between Bloomfield and Keosauqua. So I headed down U.S. 34 for lunch at Mom’s Café (chicken-friend steak and pepper gravy was the special of the day) in Albia and points beyond.

Floris is a little town tucked in the hills south of Ottumwa. I’ve admired the Floris Christian Church for years. I’m afraid it’s a gonner, but who knows? Separated from its congregation, it sits abandoned part way up the hill in the southwest part of town. The main block of the building is simple and probably wouldn’t grab a second glance, but the bell tower --- now that’s a wonder. According to the peeling sign above the front door, the church was built during 1895. It still looks fairly sturdy, but the roof is showing signs of wear --- and a bad roof is a sign of impending doom. So here it is, frozen in time at least temporarily.