As I Was Saying
By Opal Toney
Repeatin' history . . .
I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ how history has a way of
repeatin’ itself. Sometimes in unusual ways.
When we lived on Gun Barrel Lane, our old house was one of the earliest
built out that way, many years ago.
Behind it was a little one-room buildin’. I don’t know how long it had
been there, but I fell in love with it, if such things are possible.
It’s a long story how, over night, it was moved to the side of our
house, facin’ the road.
The next thing folks noticed, as they passed, was an out-door toilet had
I must confess that came about after I had told everybody at church, and
all over town that I needed one.
My sister-in-law, Mary’s, dad, Hugh Killian, built one and delivered it
in the back of his pick-up.
Other things followed. A lot were from generous ole’ friends or their
families in memory of a loved one.
Added was a (fake) well, with bucket and dipper, a rail fence, and a
couple of big stumps from dead trees (another one of my loves).
The stumps were soon surrounded by flowers and morning glories covered
one side of the house.
Much hard work was contributed by my family–and at times by folks I
didn’t even know.
Then folks started stoppin’ and askin’ if they could take pictures, with
their family and friends posed in front of the ‘scene’.
One artist asked permission to set up her easel and paint her own
version of what she called “quaint”.
Well, the time came when my husband decided we needed to sell the
The house was fallin’ down and the price was right.
I agreed with him with one stipulation. My house had to move with me,
and it did.
Since we’ve been living where we are, I now have a little “pint-sized”
And that, too, has a long story how it got here.
And guess what? Folks are now takin’ pictures with the barn in the
And the best thing about it all is it is my great-grandchildren and
their friends are in many of the pictures.
As I was saying, history has a way of repeatin’ itself.