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Timeline of a life

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By Emily Erickson Reader Columnist

We knew the house was old as we picked our way across the rubble-strewn floor. Having been informed of its recent demolition, we were granted permission to explore the building before it moved from the beginning stages of takedown to complete destruction.

A knocked-in wall exposed the strata of a century’s worth of building material, flaky layers of wallpaper recalling the many lives spent with those patterns as their backdrop. Sawdust insulation spilled from exposed studs, evoking thoughts about the people who nailed together the boards, and the countless North Idaho nights those same people must have spent tucked away against the elements, finding warmth and comfort within the structure.

Three of us stood looking at what had been the oldest remaining house in Sandpoint, its shell juxtaposed against the pile of newly clear-cut trees and the soft flow of traffic on North Boyer. We felt hollowed out, the loss becoming more personal the longer we stared.

Unaware of where it would take us, we decided then to become a team of explorers — Hannah, the historian; Reid, the architect; me, the writer; and, soon thereafter, Cynthia, the community member, journeying together into a desire to learn more about the people who once called the old building “home.”

We discovered the house was built in the late 1890s by John Elsasser and his brother William, a pair who traveled from Texas to Idaho on the promise of “free land” granted by the Homestead Act. The brothers claimed side- by-side 160-acre parcels — land on which they’d eventually build their identical residences and transform from tree stumppocked forest into plots worthy of the title “homestead.”

An excerpt from An Illustrated History of North Idaho — 1903 revealed more about John Elsasser’s life, noting, “In 1891 Mr. Elsasser married Miss Ollie Campbell, whose parents live in Texas, and to this happy union three children have been born; May, James T. and Lora. Mr. Elsasser is a man of good principles, is a fine neighbor, a loyal friend, a true and upright man and a patriotic citizen, having gained the good will and esteem of all.”

Although the record summarized John’s life up to that point into a few neat paragraphs, it left us even more curious about all the living that occurred between those milestones big enough to make it to print.

Now, after spending nearly two years on the project, we know that a summary is a hard place to adequately capture the character of a person.

Like the plausible adventurous spirit that led John and his brother to Idaho in the first place — their choice of traveling by horseback, despite having access to the train, revealing so much more than a caption about their journey ever could. Or, how it must have been an entrepreneurial drive that led William and him to saw, grind and blow up tree stumps to turn their land into an acclaimed orchard, to establish local mines and become leaders in their community.

Despite the many newspaper articles dedicated to the Elsassers, the columns still couldn’t hold the words to describe what John must have felt for the loss of his child, Paul, who died before he reached the age of 1, or how he navigated the unfathomable year in 1903 when he lost his mother, a sister and a brother to typhoid — then later, his wife to Bright’s disease.

The texts left us reading between the lines in speculation about all the business success that followed that horrible year. Perhaps John threw himself into work after such profound losses. Instead, the reports in the Northern Idaho News on May 13, 1904 simply stated, “The Elsasser orchard has been in full bloom this week, and many people have been out to see the apple and pear trees in all their spring beauty. The Elsasser brothers have added quite a few new trees this season to their already large orchard.”

Even more so, an obituary titled, “Bonner Pioneer Dead in Cabin” couldn’t possibly fit an entire life, offering instead, a timeline — a brief record of a man, originally from Texas, living to 77 and dying in his cabin, now sharing a headstone with the wife he lost so many years before.

Learning about a stranger’s life, from a time period I’ll never know, has prompted me to reflect on the records that are made of lives — timelines stringing together moments so big that they’re forever etched into our stories, and all the regular-sized living that occurs between those milestones that will never be recorded thus succeed us.

I can’t help but wonder about the tangible pieces of my own life that may be left behind, and which, if any, might be bulldozed to make room for new legacies, new timelines with “we tore it down” in the unrecorded space between more significant moments in theirs.

The project-turned-exhibit entitled “Storied Futures,” has become an exploration of development and preservation; about people taking opportunities to carve their mark — for better or worse — into their surroundings, and our duty to examine their (and our own) impact. It will be on display at Evans Brothers Coffee from Saturday, March 11-Tuesday, May 2.

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