Looking for that yard sale treasure or that untouched horde of dusty awesomeness, one traveled a lot of back roads and made a lot of wrong turns and sometimes ends up at wonderful places. All of that was more than a few years ago, and now it seems like another lifetime, until something like this jogs my memory, and then those days when the weather was always good, and there as always something interesting going on, plenty of surprises awaited me and they were all good; yes I know I forgot all of the bad stuff on purpose, that's why it's called the Good old "Daze".
I know this place, it didn't look exactly like the picture,there are no weeds surrounding the building, there was a rail surrounding the veranda now, and a few chairs so you can sit and do nothing much. I walked across that plank veranda, watching myself in the wavy glass of the old windows, wondering if there was gas in the old pumps by the outbuildings, and wondering what the lobby would look like, would there be a restaurant, would it be run by kind and thoughtful people?
Pulling open one of the double doors, I hold my breath, and wish. Step through into a quiet room which must have been a bar at one time, though now it serves as an office. A woman who even looked like Bea Benaderet came through the curtained archway and asks if she can help me. "I just decided to stop for the day, can I get a room, a meal and may-be a drink?" She looks me over and asks, "Wouldn't you be more comfortable in a motel, you know someplace more modern?" she pauses and says "We don't have AC, only fans, and you have to share the bath." "Share it with how many people?" I ask. "Well, if you don't mind the stairs, there would be just you on the third floor." "That will be fine." "Dinning room opens in an hour, but there's no liquor." She handed me a key, "Room 8" she said "its in the back, quieter if a train goes through. If you want to you can use the writing parlor in the front, at the top of the stair." And she vanished behind the curtained arch.
The climb up the staircase afforded me an excellent view of the tin ceiling, and it was a beautiful one. The wallpaper was a simple stripped pattern and you could see where the gas lights had once been, I ambled down the hallway to the next stair, looking out each window, enjoying the late summer sun streaming through. The next staircase was small, closed in and seemed much steeper, it opened into a large room with small tables, books and overstuffed furniture, and a great view of the road I had driven up on and beyond it the freight yard, which looked like it had very little if any traffic. The room and hall had that wonderful smell I remembered from my Grandparents house, old wood and fields in August, would that I could bottle that fragrance. I peeked in at the tiled bath, with it's old fashioned fixtures. My room was sunny, and the delicious smell of from the kitchen reminded me that I hadn't stopped for a decent meal in days. The ceiling was tin, but a simpler pattern, and there was a bed and a dressing table, two chairs, and an ottoman.
The windows were already opened and there were fresh towels and a blanket arranged on the bed. I slid the ottoman closer to the window and proceeded to satisfy my curiosity about my surroundings, there was the shed where the gas pumps were, and where my little blue truck was parked, beyond that the vegetable garden of the next house there were fields and a huge barn, grazing cows and goats, a field or two of corn, and one of pumpkins. Barn swallows and children playing,some farm machinery, rustling leaves.
After a meal that was well worth lingering over, I took a short walk, would have like to have explored more of the town, but I told myself that for sure I was coming back to this place as soon as possible. Later seated in front of the window in the in and overstuffed chair I watched the sun go down and the crescent moon rise before returning to my room, for a a peaceful nights sleep, until the rooster woke me. And I noticed the wallpaper had a lacey blue striped pattern with tiny violets and some unknown to me yellow flower.
After a quick coffee and toast, served in surprisingly moder kitchen,I was on the road again, heading for home.
Postscript
Through the magic of my Internet machine, and much to my wonderment, one has discovered the old hotel is now a B&B.
