I have so many wonderful memories of visiting Granny Kelley in Winfield. Janet Hodson, the retired Presbyterian missionary who had worked in India, moved in with Granny after Grandfather died. The family had always supported Janet in her mission work. After her retirement, she moved into 915 Mansfield to keep Granny company & to look after her. I was named for Janet Hodson. Below is a google photo of 915 Mansfield.
Janet was also born to an unmarried mother (in 1895) and her mother chose to keep her. Janet was badly mistreated by her grandmother and was often left locked in a closet. Her grandmother blamed the child instead of the child’s mother for her illegitimacy. (Info. from my mother Harriett) This may have led Janet to a life as a missionary.
Janet was very exotic to me for a lot of reasons. She had traveled all around the world, had a fabulous stamp collection, and she and her clothing smelled of sandalwood. It has always been one of my favorite scents because of Janet. When she retired, she brought home to Winfield several tables and chests made of sandalwood and this delicious odor permeated everything. I still have a sandalwood table and at least one elephant bell left from Janet. Janet left me her stamp collection in her will. Harriett, being the wise woman that she was, didn’t think that was fair to the other grandchildren and had the stamps sold and the proceeds given to the Presbyterian Missionary Efforts. I concur with her choice. Janet died in 1974 and who knows how I might have spent the money. I certainly wouldn’t have invested it. But because of Janet, I have always dreamed of traveling to India, but unfortunately haven’t yet made the trip.
The other grandchildren probably wonder why I know or remember this stuff. I was a clingy kid who didn’t venture far from my mother. I was a “radar” and heard everything. When Mom (Harriett) couldn’t find something, she would always ask me and I always knew. Adopted children often are a bit strange, and I know that I was very strange. There is is an attachment disorder that many adopted children have & I know I had a severe case.
Our grandfather Kelley had his office in this beautiful stone building on the right. He died before I was born, but my Mom (Harriett) often took me there for doctor or dental appointments and I can still remember the “doctor” scent. I don’t know if it was alcohol or ether, but it definitely smelled like a doctor’s office. It is amazing that doctor’s offices don’t smell like this anymore.