The Ghost of Mill's Past (Part I)...July 24, 1999

The Ghost of Mill's Past (Part I)...July 24, 1999

I live in a rather old section of town. It is not as ancient as the city core, but it has a unique and long history nonetheless. And unlike other sections of town, this one has witnessed little development in the way of industry or housing for a long time. I imagine that if I were to go back even fifty years or more, my street, and others adjacent, would look much the same as they do now, just a little newer. The paint would be whiter, eaves and foundations would not be sagging here and there, some houses now abandoned would perhaps carry the giggling of tiny voices and the barking of the family dog. I may even see a dwelling or two that has long since vanished, to be remembered only by the handful of elders that gather at the local convenience store. The area would look less weathered.

The uniqueness of my community stems from the fact that it was built because of and around a cotton mill. The mill, built well over a century ago on the bank of a river, remains standing to this day. Constructed brick by brick, it is an intimidatingly grand structure that is an apt commentary to the stature of the man who built it. Having passed on long ago, his legacy remains, and by looking at the mill, one can conjure images of a portly, white bearded man wearing the finest clothes but looking as daunting as any well muscled factory worker.

All the dwellings around the mill (mine included) number in the dozens, and were originally built to provide housing for all the mill workers. My little space occupies part of a duplex built along the river, and meant originally for the executives of the mill. Needless to say, my house is spartan compared to what one considers contemporary executive housing. Still, the duplexes, numbering perhaps ten or so, have weathered age with as much grace as the stone structures built to house other workers, and indeed, as the mill itself. Mind you, the mill has had a little help; it was bought and renovated for government office space a few years ago.

So inimitable is my community that it is being considered for zoning as an historical settlement. The entire community. Essentially this means that it would be protected from zealous over development and destruction. It would mean that, as I am writing about my little community now, years down the road, even after my journey is through, another soul could be writing something similar, describing the same little houses, the same streets, the same river, the same looming mill. Perhaps then, the paint would once again be white, not aged, grey and cracked, and the eaves and foundations once again sure and true, as the residents take pride in their tiny piece of history.

Perhaps even then my ghost will still be haunting this redsidence.

Yes, like out of the pages of a John Saul novel, a ghost connected to the mill occupies my house. For some unknown reason, for some unknown taks remaining to be done, she has not crossed over to the other side. Nor, it seems, does she desire to anytime soon. Even my writing about her seems to have yet again conjured her presence.......

...Blessed Be