The Legend of Youngs Corner XXXVI

PART XXXVI
A Story Forgotten, A Name Revealed

We left City Hall and returned to our homes. It was an important discovery. An amazing one at that. This Old Woman, Norma, was the registered owner of the land, which meant the government knew about her. Did she actually pay taxes? Not since 1972 it seems.

Wait! 1972? That was the same year my Aunt first saw the cabins. The year she met the Old Woman, who happened to greet her with a shotgun. So why did records cease? Did she leave the cabins knowing she had been discovered? That’s not possible. The city knew she was there. Perhaps she saw my Aunt as a threat. Perhaps she thought more pesky children would come to spy on her.

Just like we had done. Just like I had done.

More questions surrounded me. The military connections were adding up; a civil war graveyard, the medals of service in the cabins. And then it occurred to me. A memory of distant past arose so suddenly I was almost taken aback from it. It was a story about my grandparent’s house, about the people who lived there before. My mother said that as a child, she remembered her mother talking about things she heard, always on the staircases. The sound of boots, walking behind her. My grandmother could only describe it as the sound of “a soldier’s boots.” There was a story about the previous owners of the house, a man and his wife. It was reported that the man, a high ranking military officer, died a mysterious death. As for the wife, the legend doesn’t tell us her fate.

The woman’s fate…

2002 – May


My first year of college was over and I was back at home for summer vacation. I was sitting in the living room one day when I noticed a large tractor in the field, clearing everything in its path. My family did not own the entire field in our backyard. Whoever was cutting must have been the true owner.

“There he is again,” my Step-Father said. “Mr. Big Shot, thinks he owns everything.”
“He’s just like his father,” said my mother. “Just as arrogant. That’s who gave him all that land.”
“Who is that?” I asked. “Does he own that land?”
“Yeah, he owns all of it, including the woods,” said my Step-Father.
“Well, what’s his name?” I asked.
“Kannegieser," my Mother said. "Tom Kannegieser.”

Kannegieser. The name tag. The military ID. The owner.

But he would not own it for much longer.