Mr. William Marion Bristol of Acorn Lodge
Just a footnote about Gregory Elkin. Gregory is an eight grader at Pinon Mesa Middle School, whose thirst for local history and writing led him to the Wrightwood Historical Museum to do his own research on the unique Acorn Lodge. What jazzed me about this young man is that he walked into the historical museum without any prompting from anyone else and researched information that is available to anyone just for the asking. You hardly see that in too many kids these days. Unfortunately, not in many grown ups either. To learn about any place that you live in, a person has to do a little research. That is what Newspaper 'morgues" are for...and that is what your local historical society is for. There is a wealth of information tucked into those two sources, all one has to have is the thirst to look for it. And then report it: After all, to complete history's picture, input is encouraged. Thanks goes to Greg for his account of his own personal tour on Halloween. On Halloween, Wed. Oct. 31, the Wrightwood Museum will be open to greet the trick or treaters in all of us. (Terry Graham, WW Oct. 31, 2007)
"A Halloween Walk through Acorn Lodge"
By Gregory Elkin
I was walking by on a mountain street, minding my own business, when something caught my eye. It was a house made out of large slates of rock and huge oak wood. Next to it
was another similar house built of rock, with words spelled in brilliant white rock "Overland Trail". Between the two was a much smaller place with a white rock wheel on it's front. Small, but comfortable looking. Captured by the site of the mountain home nestled in a group of large oat trees.
I peered closer and saw a large acorn shaded reed Wickiup. I rubbed my eyes, did I just see a little Indian girl standing near it? On the fine granite slate porch I saw two towers with acorn shaped bells made of rock. I liked the home so much I decided to go inside. Walking up stone steps, I came to the big wooden door, I push it open. In the hallway a big black sat near an oak faced figure called Banshee the Irish ghost, he looked me right in the eye. When I started to walk through the house I heard a noise, I looked behind me and saw that the black cat was following me thru the house! Strangely, I felt ok with that.
The first room I came to was a bedroom, there was a mirror carved into the wood. What caught my eye was the figure of a little girl looking at herself in the mirror! Her bed was made of branches and limbs from an oak tree.
In the next room there I saw a very interesting wood corner piece that had a white rock shaped arrowhead carved into it. Underneath it were two poems carved into the wood. As I started to look in the two last rooms but my attention was attracted to a big fire place made of rock, above it sat a clock made of a large slate of rock. It's hands were made of iron and instead of numbers on it's face, letters spelled out "Acorn Lodge"! Suddenly it appeared in front of me...vapor taking the shape of a little Indian girl sitting on the floor preparing food by the large fire place made of rock! Then I smelled fresh cooked food that made my mouth water.
Then people in "smog shapes" forms started to appear at the dinner table. Waiting for dinner? I watched as they slowly faded away! Outside in the vast backyard was a honeymoon tree house and there was a small cupid in the window. The distant sounds of a just-married couple kissing and laughing made me feel funny, so I went on my way.
Then I headed over to the rotary building made of white and black rock and there was a big wagon wheel marked by white rock in the rock wall in front. As I stepped into the opened garage door I smelled pine needles and oak leaves. I felt some kind of presence as if I was not alone.. I looked down and realized that I was suddenly standing over Mr. B laying in a pine hued casket filled pine needles and oak tree leafs. Strange that the birds were chirping, me I just walked by faster.
I push the heavy wood door to go into the black and white stoned "Overland Trail". The ten paintings on the wall grabbed my attention, and as I now write this down, I can only remember a couple. One painting was of a large wagon train going across the prairie. Another was of an Indian sitting on his pony he must have been a scout waiting for someone or something? Another was a wagon and a team of oxen going to get a drink from the river. Yet another was a lonely coyote howling at the moon. I squinted my eyes towards a corner of the museum and saw a figure of a little old lady sitting in a rocking chair rocking back and forth. She looked peaceful as she wrote a poem on an old sheet of paper. She slowly faded away from sight!
It was late and I decided to leave. Part of me did not want to, but as I did. I took one last glance around knowing I wanted to go back.
The End of my tour....
