The Pink House

In downtown Canal Fulton sits a pink house.  It's right across the street from Keillor's, the place that sells the stuffed animals. 

The house is well over 100 years old.  For many years, Clyde Gainey, the historian I told you about in an earlier column, lived there with his wife.  Prior to that, Dr. Hiram Dissinger lived there.  His office was right next door.

"Doc" Dissinger was an interesting man.  According to those who knew him, he had a rather nasal, whiny voice.  He boarded his horses at a nearby stable, and made house calls in his buggy.  He'd head out on any one of the 10 roads that meet in Canal Fulton to see ill patients on farms all over.  Truth be told, if there were a few that occupied his time for nothing (early versions of hypochondriacs), he'd use another road to miss them.

It's not like cars going by today.  People in the houses could HEAR the buggy coming and get out on the porch to call, "Doc," before he could get out of ear range. 

The good doctor probably wouldn't have become as well known as he has except for his curiosity.  A little boy died and Doc Dissinger wanted to know why.  The little boy's parents refused an autopsy, so the evening after the burial, Doc went to the gravesite and dug up the little boy.  He brought the body  back to the office where he did the autopsy and then returned him to the grave.  It's gruesome, yes, but maybe Doc had a good reason for doing this.  Who knows?  I think that Doc would have been quiet about the whole thing, but perhaps the helper in this case told someone, and then they told someone, and so on.

Sometimes when I'm in town, I look at the house and try to imagine what it was like back when Doc was practicing.  Not just the images, but the people, the lifestyle.  Once my sister observed that ours lives differed in one predominant way.  "You don't have as many choices," she said, referring to the simpler life here in town.  She had maybe three grocery stores or more.  We were lucky to have the one. 

Well, here I am in the craft room again, and the place stinks like fabric softener.  We were using it to remove border paper.  It's time for me to get going and wash down the walls to remove the fabric softener.  Should have gone to Home Depot for the steamer yesterday!!

Breathe in peace, breathe out stress.  Repeat.