Yup, we’re into March, and that means we are closer to spring than we were a month ago! How’s that statement for a little wisdom? Personally speaking, I can hardly wait for warmer weather, as I’ve been either in the hospital or at home all winter, and that has not been my agenda all these years.
Speaking of years, come to find out I’m having another birthday in March, and I don’t’ have enough fingers or toes to count up the years. Let’s just say I’m as old as dirt, and let it go at that!
While in the hospital, and receiving great care from doctors and nurses, some of them told me they lived in Seabrook and wanted to know something about their adopted town, so my story this month is about “over home,” as we natives called it. My tale goes something like this ...
At a very early age, probably about 7 or 8, my father Fred had a grocery store called Ayers Busy Corner, and he bought all his fresh eggs and chickens in Seabrook, and I accompanied him. I recall going through Seabrook on what is now called the “old” road, as Route 286 did not exist. There I met Jed Eaton, who showed me how to kill a chicken, butcher block, cleaver and all! The name Eaton, along with Janvrin, Dow, Randall and Brown, was the common name to be found in Seabrook.
As time moved on, I got to meet many a Seabrooker and discovered they were the most honest, sincere and friendliest people I had ever known. I recall driving through Seabrook, observing their homes, especially in the winter, when bales of hay were used around the foundations to keep warm. I recall that these natives knew every family and their children, and these families protected each other, regardless of the situation.