Sandy’s dad loved fishing. Jim Angell worked for the railroad as a signal maintainer. This work sent him all over the Massachusetts backcountry fixing signal-related problems. Jim kept a fishing rod in the truck at all times, just in case he ran into a stream or pond that needed fishing. The jackpot came whenever he happened to spot a fisheries truck parked along a shoreline, stocking trout. As soon as the truck left …
That ol’ Jim Angell just LOVED fishing!
After Jim’s passing, Sandy and her sister inherited the family house. We were not interested in keeping the house so Sandy sold her share. Suddenly we had a small pile of money.
What do you think we did with it?
Since Jim Angell loved fishing and Sandy’s mom Eva enjoyed being out at a lake while he fished, we knew that spending Sandy’s inheritance to buy a camp on a lake would be a nice way to fulfill our own dreams while honoring the memory of her parents. So we started looking for a place to call our own.
At Highland Lake, of course.
It was in the Spring of 1977 that we found a small waterfront house for sale. The exterior and interior walls were made of beautiful cedar planks and the combination kitchen/living room had high wooden beams and open glass gables that ran the width of the house. A huge picture window on the waterside offered a fantastic view of the lake. It was a small house – just two bedrooms and a rather rustic bathroom along with the living area. And there was a deck overlooking the lake. We fell in love with it and the next day made an offer. It was accepted, and we were on our way to becoming owners of Camp Singley.
Mind you, apart from Sandy’s small inheritance that was earmarked for the down payment we were still dirt poor. $6500 a year didn’t go very far even back in the ’70’s. I remember the banker in Hillsboro, NH looking skeptically at us. “Do you really think you can afford the monthly payments?” he asked.
“Well,” I nervously replied, “if we cut back on some stuff and if I get a raise next year I think we should be okay.”
The banker rolled his eyes. There was a long pause as if he were calculating the risk. Sandy and I held our breath. Then, looking down at the paperwork on the desk, he took a pen and wrote something.
“Approved.”
Then he stuck out his big hand, smiled, and said, “Congratulations. You’re homeowners.”
The first people we called with the news were Bud and Prilly. They were very excited for us although I don’t think they had any idea they would now spend the rest of their lives helping us work on the place. There were problems with the water pump and the copper plumbing and the gas floor furnace was a constant challenge. The lot was overgrown with tall pine trees. But Bud and Prilly were well-seasoned home builders and fixer-uppers. And we were willing to learn new skills.
So Bud taught me to sweat copper pipes (because every Spring there were burst pipes and leaks in the water system); to rewire things without burning the place down; to rebuild the pump motor when needed (and later the boat motors); to use a chain saw and come-a-long to drop 50-foot tall trees without hitting the house; to shingle the roof; and so much more. A few years after we bought the place, Sandy and I decided to build an addition onto the house. Bud and Prilly insisted we should build it ourselves. With their help.
And so we did.
Winter view of Camp Singley, 1977
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