still looking

Yesterday was our first big workday at Hobbs house. It was a fantastic day. Without any fantastic finds.

The best part of the day was sharing it with our dear ones. So much of Thomas' family and so many of our friends came to be a part of the start of our project. Somehow sorting through dirty cabinets and moldy closets is actually fun when you do it together.

While Micah napped, Thomas, Walker, their helper Brite, and I went through all of Hobbs' things. We had piles for keeping, trash, and donation.

The trash dumpster was by far the biggest! Drapes. Mattresses. A couple cans of pork and beans. Blankets. Years worth of check registers and taxes. 2 Christmas trees. A handheld sewing machine. 3 vacuums. Little screws, brackets, gadgets, and who knows what metal things.

The donation trailer got a little furniture, lots of clothes and dishes, and a complete set of encyclopedias.

Our little keep pile. A few cool cups. Marbles. A beautiful old typewriter. A wooden playpen. A stepstool. A pair of gray leather boots in my size. A brass owl wall hanging that says "nobody's perfect." (this was Thomas' pick. not going in my house)

While we didn't find anything of real value, it was interesting to look for more clues about Hobbs. Surprisingly, we did not find a single photograph anywhere in the house. We did find some pay stubs from Cone Mills. We found tax returns with his wife's name, Frances. We found a couple pairs of women's shoes. And a subscription notice for Penthouse magazine. He kept original boxes for most of the things he bought and wrote the date of purchase on them.

One of my personal favorite finds was several pair of glasses.

One of the oddest finds was a giant glass prescription bottle of morphine from 1988. It was hidden in the back of a cabinet filled with pots and pans.

We learned about how much Hobbs valued doing things himself. His house was full of building materials. Not many people have nuts and bolts in utensil drawers. His paint cabinet was in his kitchen.

His attic is full of scraps of wood from probably every board he ever cut. The access door to the space above the carport was bolted shut and we all waited in anticipation for Thomas to cut it and see what was inside. No treasure. Just wood.


I checked all of the pockets of his clothes. We looked in lots of old shoe boxes and suitcases. We leafed through the pages of books. Just in case!

Thomas said his most exciting moment was pulling up the linoleum in the kitchen to see a patched hole in the wood. As he pulled up boards, there was another layer of wood. The guys gathered around to pull up the levels board by board. As they got to the bottom, they discovered...dirt. It was an access area to the sink plumbing. Still no treasure.

Pulling up the carpet in the living room did reveal a beautiful wood floor. This can definitely be saved. Once we got the moldy paneling out, it created a nice conference room for planning. And enjoying a day of satisfying labor.


Other than that, we will just treasure the memory of this adventure and the support of our sweet family and friends.

the sum of a life

When Thomas and I went into Hobbs' house for the first time, I was overwhelmed by a sense of futility. In this tiny little home was everything Hobbs collected over his life, and when he was gone, nobody appeared to want it. It made me sad to see the keys hanging by the door, the bed still made (well, unmade), and the shoes in the closet. On the one hand I felt bad for intruding into his life. But on the other hand I wondered who would care about his things if we didn't. How pitiful to end this way.

As I think about Hobbs, I think about how the Bible talks about the vanity of seeking fame or riches or wisdom. All generations pass away and are forgotten. It is best for man to eat and drink and enjoy his labor because these are gifts from God.

Now every time I go into Hobbs' house I want to remember the importance of enjoying each moment. While I hope one or two more generations remember me, ultimately I will meet the same end. Better to be satisfied each moment that I have been given. Thanks for the lesson, Mr. Hobbs.

The front bedroom.

One of the things that stands out to me is that there are no photos hanging anywhere in the house. I hope that we find some when we clean it out to tell more of Hobbs' story.

The back bedroom.

Hobbs' closet. (don't worry...we are checking the pockets for treasure.)

Not sure how the Spanish matador fits in. The fireplace is fake with plastic bricks.

The wood beams in the kitchen are also plastic. From looking through Hobbs' house so far, we've learned that he enjoyed building, but the appearance was more important than the quality.

We've also learned that he really liked lights and fans. This one is especially unique.

A nice combination of modern fan and classic chandelier.

Tomorrow we start the clean out. I'm eager to see what else we will learn about Mr. Hobbs.

hobbs house

Thomas, Micah and I live in a 100-year-old mill house in Pineville. It is teeny, and sweet, and takes a lot of work. But we love it. So much that we bought the one across the street.

Mr. Hobbs moved to Pineville to work in the mill down the street lots of years ago, or so we think. The first time I met him, he shuffled to the middle of the street. I said, "My name is Emily." He said, "My name's on my house." Which is true. Haley W. Hobbs. Right there where most people put their address. He told me his life story of working this job and that, being married to these people, living this many years here and there. The total added up to over 95 years, which I'm sure he was not. But I'm sure parts of the story were real.

Mr. Hobbs lived alone, except for about 15 stray cats under and around his house. He always let his car "warm up" in the driveway for about 20 minutes before going anywhere. He always wore a hat and glasses while driving. Occasionally his daughter would visit, but never stay long. Always all of his blinds were drawn, but there would be one light in his front window.

About two years ago, Mr. Hobbs left one night and never returned. We heard he was found on the side of the road with a flat tire, out very late and rather disoriented. From that point he was moved into an assisted living home and passed away. His house sat quietly vacant since. Just as he left it, except the light was turned off. Eventually it was condemned and fell into foreclosure.

For months I have sat on my front porch wondering what was inside and what stories the house had to tell. Thomas sat on our front porch frustrated about the state of disrepair. We hoped that someone would enter the picture and restore the scene. It turns out it's us.

In July, Thomas got a phone call out of the blue from the Historical Society. They had purchased Hobbs house in order to preserve the historic value of the street. And they wanted us to buy it (for a ridiculously low price) to fix it up. Originally we thought the house would need to be torn down and rebuilt. But even at that, the price was so amazing that it seemed like a good investment. Thomas got to work researching costs, building codes, and restrictions. We talked to the Historical Society in multiple meetings, and they kept telling us "We just have to make this work." As the process went on, Thomas realized that we might be able to salvage the house. So we went before the Town Council to request that they reconsider the condemnation order. They agreed to give us 18 months to meet minimum housing standards before they would require it to be torn down.

So on September 13 we closed and officially own the opposite corner of Park Ave, and everything in it. Our first step will be sorting all of Mr. Hobbs' belongings and, as Thomas puts it, searching for "treasure". Next I'll post some before pictures and share some of our plans. We hope to honor Mr. Hobbs and the history of our mill village, while staying happy with our little family life :) So here we go...