Stafford
Stafford, pop. 1,097, is in Stafford County.
It’s a comfortable town.
As someone fond of cemeteries, I discovered a very pleasant graveyard. For one thing, it has a directory of where people are buried. And, it’s beautiful and well-maintained.
In the cemetery is this old, artistic stone.
And the Larabee mausoleum…
But, a town is about the living.
Downtown, on the brick streets of Stafford, is a fairly active business district.
Had lunch at the Curtis Cafe: roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, cabbage, roll, tea - for about $5 or $5.50, don’t remember. Then pie. I had coconut cream. Mmmm.
Inside the cafe, finished, sealed jigsaw puzzles hang on the walls. There had to be a hundred in the main dining area and another bunch in the second dining room.
Here’s the grocery store:
At the north edge of town is the old mission-style Santa Fe Railroad depot…
And the elevator.
Two years ago, I visited Stafford: More photos.
Filed under: buildings, small towns on May 28th, 2007
I have/had a friend in Stafford who helped organize the town’s Christmas decorating and celebration with parade, I think in the 1970s. Marice and Martha Street. I met them when their grandson was joining the fraternity. Maurice was a Phi Delt at K-State and an engineer. Maurice died shortly after Mike joined Phi Delta Theta. Martha was a Chi Omega at K-State and remained an active, widowed mover and shaker in Stafford. She may be gone now. I sent Christmas cards for a few years and call once or twice back in the late ’80s and early ’90s..
If you visit Stafford again, and are going to go to the cemetery, let me give you a name and if you’d be so kind, I’d appreciate a picture of someone’s gravestone.
It was a young man, a bit odd, offset from society in some ways. He was a friend of sorts in Southern California. He was a sweet kid, but I bet people in Stafford might have thought him a bit strange.
I have friends of all sorts, as most of us do I imagine. He was a sweet guy in some ways. He was vulnerable in ways people didn’t see. I saw it, some of our mutual friends saw it.
One day he went into his closet and killed himself. It was so sad. I never did get down there to visit with his father. I wish I had. I wonder if his father is still alive. I don’t remember the Dad’s first name.
People maybe didn’t recognize it, but he tried to make a difference for the young people. He wanted to help people. But he was “different” and I think that got in the way.
One of our mutual friends told me that towards the end he cut himself off from the internet because he decided it was from Satan. Someone gave him a scooter, and he thought that was a sign of the apocalypse and he was one of the horsemen of the apocalypse. He spent quality time with his siblings’ children, gave them some of his significant belongings, and I think even found a home for his precious dog. Then it was the end.
After he died, I wanted to submit an article to the newspaper there. I called them. They said to send it, but something about the conversation stopped me. I don’t remember what. Some friends and I had wanted people to know more about him, to know the treasure that was at the core of his odd little heart. But over time the idea faded. I’m kind of glad I didn’t send it in. I don’t know if anyone ever could have understood.
Janet