|Needing TLC on the outside, Arthur Atwood's house, built in 1830, had family treasure inside.|
|Arthur Atwood died on Nov. 10, 2016. He was 83.|
(Carmon Community Funeral Homes)
From the outside, at least, nothing is lovely about this place along busy Lovely Street.
But treasure was found inside the early 19th-century house with the creaky, original floors and ancient, wood beams.
An antique grandfather clock for $1,200, surely worth more.
An early 20th-century guide to London.
A musty military uniform, looking almost forlorn on a bed in a tiny upstairs bedroom.
And, sadly, what appeared to be a family photo album on the floor near a bookcase.
|In this lithograph, Civil War sailors struggle to control a cannon in a storm. This is one|
of six lithographs I bought at Arthur Atwood's estate sale.
All this treasure once belonged to Arthur Atwood, a neighbor I never knew or even recall seeing. He died last November. He was 83.
Arthur served in the Air Force Chaplain Corps during the Korean War. A member of the local opera, he liked the arts and was active in civic affairs. For 40 years, he was manager of a furniture store.
"Arthur embraced every occasion with passion and gusto," his online obituary noted. He sang God Bless America every Monday at a senior center. He apparently was a great cook, often serving meals to friends.
"Graced with a wonderful sense of humor and unbounded creativity," according to his obituary, "Arthur brought light to his entire circle of friends. He lived his life to fulfill his heartfelt promise to God which was always 'to do for others with love.' " Arthur was survived by a woman named Laurie, his companion and best friend for 40 years.
As I left Arthur's house with my Civil War prints, part of me felt guilty. What am I doing with this man's stuff? But judging from what little I know about the neighbor I never met, I'd like to think he's smiling somewhere.
Belated Godspeed, Mr. Atwood.
|A lithograph of the ironclad Weehawken tossed about by ocean waves.|