History marches on to the tune of a different drummer every year. The events that occur during the year’s time mark the year in our memories, and on New Year’s Day it is the custom of many to remember the past years and reminisce. On New Year’s Day18 years ago, Wood House lost one of its inhabitants for most of the last 20 years and I sat and thought about all that transpired in his time.
Lincus, as he was called, had been through the worst and the best this town has to offer. Old Link had been in the house when there was no heat, electric or food, and had eaten anything presented to him including endless days of pea soup (made with nothing but peas and water) and bread, oatmeal, sunfish meat (deboned) or whatever. Nothing seemed to bother him. Each morning he set out on his route about Eaton regardless of the weather (be it 99 degrees) and each night he took a before-bed tour to make sure nothing had changed, even if it was 30 below.
Lincus’ genes seemed to come from the finest stock of old Eaton itself. His family had most likely been here for more generations than I can count, perhaps even back to the times of the Native Americans first inhabitancy. His family stayed while settlers picked up and moved west because of the poor conditions and outrageous weather swings. Why just this week I recorded on our digital thermometer at the Wood House a low of 21 and a high of 71 degrees – almost a fifty degree change in 24 hours. But alas, none of this ever seemed to bother Linc.
Lincus was on hand for all of our history events and sat near the wood stove listening to all the plans for Bicentennials and History Days with a quiet resolve. Nothing seemed to change his outlook on life; he just watched history go by. His motto was doing what you must to survive and forget the trouble and look only to what God has given you and the future.
Lincus came to the Wood House in January, years ago during a blizzard. He was a full-grown cat that looked like a lynx out of the wild with thick fur, perfect lynx markings, and tufts in his ears. He died on New Year’s Day 2004 at about what we guessed 24 years old. He took his usual morning spin around town…came home, laid next to the stove and died.
Old Lincus, a piece of Eaton history, the House’s history will be missed with a whole rack of strays that have been dumped. they arrived for the most part to find food and a place to warm up!