The words came swiftly and a decision had to be made quickly.
“It cannot be saved.” My brother made the decision and I am glad he did.
The front porch of my grandparents home has been in the midst of a foundation crisis for many years. That crisis finally led to a critical danger of failure.
The concrete had begun to rupture in large fissures like a scene from a California earthquake.
The contractor said he could possibly save it, but it would take money and lots of it. The amount was similar to the gross domestic product of a small country, namely one with huge oil reserves.
That was not an option. So, the porch was broken down, demolished and hauled off.
I know it was just brick and mortar and concrete, but it was so much more than that.
It had lasted almost 76 years.
Granddaddy and Grandma built their home in 1949, moving in a week before Christmas of that year. The house was not quite finished, but it was dried in and could be lived in. My Daddy had just turned 8 the week before. His contribution was to haul bricks in his red wagon.
Granddaddy was not a contractor or carpenter by trade, but he did most of the work himself as far as I know. No footers were dug nor foundation was laid. The ground was leveled and the foundation pilings were constructed on the surface of the land. The porch was bricked in around its borders and filled in with sand. A stoop was added with four steps. The triangular pitched roof was added to the front.
Two holly trees, planted by my uncles under the supervision of my greatgrandmother, Anna Rogers, guarded the porch. The root system expansion would contribute to the porch's troubles over time, but they provided great shade, a convenient jungle gym for little ones and served as ready made Christmas decorations each year.
That was the construction of it.
What I can’t put into words, is how many millions of hours of conversations have taken place there. Who knows how many gallons of sweet tea were consumed there. And, how do you even count the thousands of days the rocking chairs were in motion there.
It has been the scene of many memories of time, people and places that exist now only in my heart.
I can still see my Granddaddy there in his overalls — rocking, watching a thunderstorm rolling in. He did that often. I think he felt closest to God in such times. My Grandma always fretted about it. 'Rollie, please come in the house,' she’d plea. “Yes, Mrs. Deal,” he would answer. He always called her Mrs. Deal.
Grandma would sit on the porch after the rain passed, generally with some of us grandchildren. She would look at the steam rising from branch with the combination of the summer heat and the cooling rain and declare as her Mama, Granny Anna, once did to her. 'I onchew to look a there!' she would exclaim. When we inquired about what she was seeing, she would point to the mists rising from the branch and explain “Rabbits are cooking supper!”
And, mercy, at the children who have been on that porch. We played ring around the rosy and duck, duck, goose and freeze tag and red lightgreen light. There was a hole in the aggregate of the concrete at the end of the stoop. It would collect rain water and all of us dipped our toes there. Believe it or not, I was one of them once. Thankfully, that hole was saved in the renovation.
Daddy liked to watch his hummingbirds come to the feeders hung from the corners.
Santa once visited there. We held a 4th of July parade and celebration there. We launched fireworks at Christmas from there. Granddaddy and Granny Rogers' caskets rested there before being wheeled in to the living room for their wakes.
Now a new porch has been built where the old one once stood.
It's not concrete, but it is sturdy, level and should last a long time. We are planning for another 76 years if the Lord is willing.
I sat outside on it the other night. I heard a bob white in the yard. I saw the tiny lights of lightning bugs lighting up in the darkness.
The whir of hummingbird wings sounded from the corner.
Piles of sand, uncovered for the first time in 76 years peaked out in piles from the new deck.
The blend of new and old has merged in to what you have just read.
Here is to making brand new memories on the new front porch.
