INTO THE PAST, POST# 3

7-15-11

OKAY! 

   I was ready to rumble on Friday, July 15, my first full day in Huron.  I began with a visit to the Dakotaland Museum, which is housed on the same fairgrounds where I’m camped.  The museum has an extensive amount of relics (5000!), one of which drives fear into the heart of any Arkansas Razorback and that was the Hog-Killing Hammer.  It looked like a sledgehammer head with a big metal knob on it.  One blow to the skull would do the trick.  After cringing a bit, I moved on and was very impressed with the extent of the collection, every thing from 370 stuffed animals from the same farm to a telegrapher’s key mechanism. The animals were taxidermized (new word!) by the farmer’s wife as a way to not go stir crazy during the long winters.  The ladies that volunteer at the museum were helpful and gave me the name of the cemetery keeper.  Did I mention that when I went to the cemetery the evening before I couldn’t find a marker that was described to me?  After telling the ladies that I was going back out, they gave me the guy’s name and after calling, he agreed to meet me out there later in the afternoon. 

   From the Museum I went east four blocks and parked in the shade in front of the Courthouse.  I spent the next hours with ladies in the Register of Deeds office locating properties bought, sold, and granted to various Bretons.  In six cases Bretons were granted acreage, which we located on maps. Later research shows that these acres were soon sold off to others, thus I learned that land speculation was a way in which the pioneers were able to gain financial advantage over the out-of-town, Johnny come latelies.   In town multiple transactions were identified and then had to be translated from Lot and Block numbers into current street names and numbers.  These processes involved handling large ledgers with the original writings and signatures of those involved.  Luckily for me, it was a slow day and the ladies were very helpful and instructive on how to learn what I wanted to learn.  Apparently, the Bretons lived or owned four properties in town.  Handed down to me by my grandfather were two pictures that are identified as being the family home in Huron.  With the addresses just revealed, could I find that structure at one of the addresses? Time was flying by, no time for lunch and whoa!: it was time to race back out to the cemetery.    

   At Riverside Cemetery I met the man who, when he got out of his truck, took ten steps and pointed me to the marker with BRETON emblazoned on it.  I was amazed because I had walked by that marker many times the afternoon before and just not seen the name on it.   I had found the marker for another relative and even knew that the one I was seeking was near the other.  Despite my feeling very foolish and unworthy, the keeper took time to explain how the numbering system went and gave me permission to clean the stone if I wished.  The marble was covered with a fine moss/lichen and not much was legible, but the heat was so infernal that I deferred that task until the cool of Saturday morning. 

   Returning to the Courthouse I detoured to the addresses we had turned up.  At 240 Iowa Street there was the house from the  old pictures!  Recognizable by its two windows up stairs and downstairs and the crenellated brick chimney, it looked considerably more forlorn than in my 19^th century pictures.   It’s survived.  There have been superficial modifications, but the basic house is still the same.  This house was also the birthplace of my grandfather and his siblings. The other properties had old homes on them too, but I didn’t have old pictures of them.  One was so overgrown with bushes and trees that I still couldn’t find the house number. 

   Back at the courthouse I stayed until closing time and spent time organizing the day’s findings.      

   Leaving the air conditioning presented an obvious challenge, so knowing that it would be brutal cooking dinner in the trailer, I went to the MomnPop Mexican restaurant, Natalia’s, and settled in with my files, some new cuisine, and the air conditioning.  Pupusas were new to me.  They’re fried corn tortillas covered with meat, cabbage, cheese and a special sauce.  Crisp and spicy made for a tasty combo washed down with a Sangria flavored soft drink.  I had two of each!!

   Nightfall at the trailer was quiet, and led off with a cool shower at the campground showers which I had to myself.  Even a shower provided an adrenaline thrill when the lights went out and the room was totally dark. I called out, no one answered. I climbed out of the stall, peeked into the darkness (only a few thoughts of the shower scene in Psycho bubbling to my awareness) and the lights came back on.  Apparently they are on a motion sensor switch and when you’re in the shower, it can’t see your motions.  So by poking my head out several times I had a lengthy, well-lit, cooling shower. 

   Post–shower thrills, the continuing heat meant I couldn’t get to sleep in the hot trailer.  When people ask about what the trailer looks like I usually say “It looks like a big toaster” and now I know that in hot weather, “It IS a toaster.”  Even with my little 1950s fan going full-tilt it was too hot.  I ended up going outside and sitting in my river guide chair, watching the fullish moon and appreciating the slight breeze.  I finally conked out, back on the bed around 11 pm.  The prediction is for “Heat Advisory Warnings” later in the week.

   What a day!  Connecting family heirlooms with the present, learning and seeing the whereabouts of family homesteads, enjoying new foods, discovering family grave markers, gaining from the information on them, meeting nice, helpful people, and the anticipation of learning even more as the days proceed was invigorating.  No wonder I had trouble getting to sleep.