How we got here

The past 27 years have been a whirlwind for David and me. Starting his first job a month before he even had his degree in hand, David has had an incredibly successful career after leaving this little house on the hill. From his start at a small school smack dab between Nashville and Memphis, TN, to being an assistant at one of the best band programs in the Southeastern U.S., to starting a new band program at a brand new school, to awakening a sleeping giant of a band that had been a leading program in the southeast in the 80s, and now the fine arts director of one of the leading school districts in the area. In that time, I have completed my degree and maneuvered through three different manufacturing companies in various capacities. All this while raising a family, being caretakers for ailing family members, and trying to be good neighbors, employees, family members, and friends. To say we get overwhelmed can be an understatement. We are the modern GenX couple.

And now, we have inherited this century-old house. Here’s what we know. David’s great-grandfather, W.D. Aydelott, moved onto The Hill in 1880, purchasing the old Peery place, which is long gone. Around 1890 he built what is called a dog-trot house on The Hill (we’ll go into this type of home in a later post). Around the same time, another house was built across the road at the bottom of the hill that would eventually become W.D.’s son’s (L.W.) home. The construction of the homes used the natural resources of what they had— poplar trees and rocks. Apparently, at the time, there were mobile sawmills that would move from farm to farm, and they would build a home, barn, or add-on as needed and then move down the road to the next farmer who needed something built. Within ten years, W.D. had closed in the breezeway (dog-trot), and the House on The Hill became more like what we know today. As we know, the house has been added onto and taken away from over the years with many different occupants, and frankly, the stories become foggy. But by 1947, the house had been a starter home, a barn, and for a few years, vacant.

In 1947, a 17-year-old Winnie Black Aydelott, two weeks into her marriage, had decided she needed to not live with her new in-laws, so she grabbed a flashlight and ventured up The Hill to see this old house and what it might offer her. To her young hopeful eyes, she saw a roof, sturdy walls and floors, and the possibility of the start of her own home. She took her Dad, Clyde Black, the next time, and he agreed that it had, in her own words, “sturdy bones.” No electricity or plumbing needed.

The next go around, she took her reluctant new groom, L.T. He didn’t necessarily see the palace she saw, but he agreed to give it a try, professing he was perfectly fine living with his parents and she should be too. But up The Hill they moved with Winnie utilizing the help of her 16-year-old sister, Anne, to clean up the old house. After a couple of weeks living in their “new home,” L.T. reluctantly agreed this was definitely better than living with his parents!

From what we know, the house has been through at least three alterations since 1947. In 1951, Winnie’s Dad, Clyde, built a kitchen onto the back of the house. There was an addition to the kitchen in the mid-’60s to add a utility room and a pretty large remodel in 1977 to finish out the attic with two bedrooms and a bathroom. At that time, a master bedroom and carport were also added.

David mentioned once that growing up, he referred to this house as a story of his family, but recently, after listening to his mom talk about her history, it dawned on us that the old house on the hill is really the story of Winnie. As the matriarch, she has been steadfast and sturdy, never wavering in her faith or love of her family. She has protected and nurtured, weathered many storms, and always welcomed family home.

And even though, as the youngest of her three sons, David never expected to inherit the old house, we take this responsibility on with the hope of telling its story and adding our own chapter.

-Renée Aydelott