In under 30 hours I crossed two states, stopped at more than a dozen antique stores, and came home with a handful of forgotten photographs—including one with a living connection.
How I Introduce Myself to the Current Residents of an Ancestral Home
I finally stood in front of the Hanley homestead in Atlantic Mine, a house I’d heard about all my life. Instead of knocking, I left a letter — though not before giving in to the temptation of the doorbell. This is the story of that visit, the family lore tied to the house, and what it meant to leave something behind.
