There are times when one stops and takes a look back at a time or place or even a place that all of a sudden seems to be more than a coincidence than we had thought. This was brought to my attention the other evening when I was talking with a cousin of mine and he pointed it out to me again just what were the odds of this happening. This time I guess I finally realized that he was very correct in his observation.
In 1928 my grandparents (John and Eunice Houser, along with their two children Ralph and Margaret) left their farm down on Fruit Ridge Road and traveled to Batavia where my grandparents had become the patron and the matron of the counties infirmary or commonly known as the poor house. This was a huge brick building that housed 95 residents and housing for workers and my grandparent. All of this was located at the edge of Batavia on I think 119 acres of a working farm. He was to be paid $60.00 and grandma $40.00. A month that is. That was good wages for 1928 and they lived rent free along with it. My dad and my aunt Margaret went to school at Batavia and both graduated there.
At first look, the building looked very strong in structure but gave off a kind of cold feeling. Inside the building had a full basement on all four sides of the structure with a courtyard and three floors that housed the residents and staff. It was huge and the rooms were small and looked very plain. Now that was all at first glance. However, my grandma was a little German lady that believed in clean. My dad told me they scrubbed every inch of the building with bleach water. All of the bedding and clothing was scrubbed likewise every week. She also used starch on almost all clothing so that everyone was looking clean and the clothing that needed to look stiff did. She was a kind woman and was one not to say much but put her thoughts into what she felt was needed and I have always heard she was one the residents felt listened to them.
My grandpa was a big man as he stood at six foot three inches and 220 pounds. Bigger than his size was his gregarious personality. He loved people and loved working with them. There were large maple trees that stood at certain points around the entire building. Grandpa made sure that one of his first acts was to white wash each tree at the base and up about five feet and did this routinely. This gave the place one more statement that it was a clean place.
To become a resident one had to be indigent and that just meant they had no money and had reached a point where they couldn’t live alone and didn’t have any family. So upon their arrival it was decided just what they could do to help the place operate. When you entered the home, you had become a ward of the county and therefore you would do what you could to help. Now it has been told to me by many folks over the years that John and Eunice didn’t approach residents in a way where they felt they were being kept but they were a part of the people who kept their home looking good.
Between grandmas listening approach and grandpas joking with them and working right beside them it became a team effort more than just given a chore. He would buy things like watermelons, ice them down, and serve them up on hot summer nights or they would crank some ice cream and treat the residents. My dad said that it was a miracle that his sister wasn’t rotten as she had 95 residents making over her and spoiling her, as she was the only child for all of them to make over. Aunt Margaret was so far from ever being spoiled and I attribute that to her understanding how so very important it was to care for a person’s needs.
They ran the county home from 1928 until 1946 when they decided it was time to go back to their farm and begin taking care of their selves. So back to Fruit Ridge, they returned. I know that for the rest of their lives they had acquired 18 years of stories and that was enough to last the rest of their lives. I always thought that even though I had never seen the home I knew it by heart from all of the stories had heard. But here is where things changed.
My dad ran for County Commissioner in 1964 and was elected. In 1965, the county home was not really needed as there were only 15 residents living there. So it was closed and the residents went to a nursing home that was more suitable for them at this time. The county held an auction and sold all of the furniture etc. Then the home was remodeled and became the counties Service Center. The Welfare department had outgrown where it was so it went there along with the medical and dental clinics. Youth Services and Head Start along with many other departments were installed there also. One such department was Human Services. In 1976, they were in need for a fiscal officer and my dad told me they were looking and I might want to look into it. So I did and was hired. I then became the third generation of our family to work in this building and got to for five years. I really enjoyed being in that building and all the stories I had been told helped me understand the structure immediately.
When I left, I felt it was interesting that I got to work where the two generations before me had worked also and felt that was that. However, when my daughter Meghan graduated in 1996 she got a job in Batavia with the county and I think it was in Facilities and Maintenance Department. In 1997 this department was moved into offices that were located in the basement of the (yes, you guessed it) the old county home. I recall her coming home and telling all about the place and how I had told her correct I was in my description of areas etc… So from 1928 until the year 2000 four generations of Houser’s had worked under the same roof. In different ways but served they did.
I have always felt that each one of my family members who were there served the job as best they knew how and with kindness and a good heart to those they were serving. At least that is the way I want to remember it. To serve people you really need to care for people. It is the best advice I can offer you and I base it on four generations doing so.
Rick Houser grew up on a farm near Moscow in Clermont County and loves to share stories about his youth and other topics. If you are interested in reading more of his stories they can be found in his books ‘There are Places to Remember” and’ Memories ARE from the Heart.” He may be reached at houser734@yahoo.com or mail to P.O. Box 213 Bethel, Ohio 45106.
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