Editor’s note: Last week, Tim Tulloch wrote about the Pruyns’ summer house, which is on the tour for Altamont’s Victorian Holiday Celebration. He emailed to Elizabeth “Tockey” Townsend Dearstyne who knew the place as a child to ask about her memories of it. Ms. Dearstyne now lives in Austria; her response arrived this week and, with her permission, we are running it as a letter to the editor.​

To the Editor:

I am pleased and honored to share a few memories about what was so fondly known to my family as “The Big House,” or just plain “Granny’s.” It was on Leesome Lane, which means “lonesome lane.”

The house was an integral part of our property when my three siblings and I were growing up. We lived about 500 meters away, in what was formerly the carriage house to The Big House, later renovated into our wonderful home by my father, Charles L.P. Townsend. (Our house was destroyed by fire in October 1958, thus removing my family from Altamont to Albany.)

As children, The Big House loomed indeed large, sitting there majestically above us as it did. On a clear day, we could stand on its front porch and with binoculars literally identify the Berkshires of Massachusetts, the Green Mountains of Vermont, and the White Mountains of New Hampshire. In the winter, we could either set our long toboggan or our skis on the porch and toboggan or ski all the way down to our tenant farmer’s stone house at the bottom of the hill.

Granny, Jane Lansing Pruyn Townsend, and her sister, “Tante B.,” my namesake, Elizabeth McClintock Pruyn, were in residence during the summers. On most Sundays, we all ate noon-time dinner with them and after dinner, as a treat, we each got to dunk a sugar cube in Granny's coffee. We never knew our grandfather, Franklin Townsend, or my Dad’s older brother, Franklin Jr., as both passed away rather young. However, our only Townsend cousin, Franklin II, was often staying in The Big House during the summers.

In the spring, there was a row of sweet-smelling lilacs in full bloom; in the summer, Tante B’s roses were a sight to behold; and, in the fall, we had bittersweet to pick. The whole field in front of the house was full of delicious wild strawberries, which we all picked for jam.

It was always fun to explore the whole house while the adults chatted. I well remember the smell of lavender soap in all the bathrooms and linen closets, and loved occasionally staying overnight in the middle room between Granny and Tante B’s bedrooms.

There are many other fine memories, but I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that the four of us made sure that, before the house was shut up for the winter, one window was left (secretly) unlocked, so we could get in to practice our pool shots without adult supervision.

There are now 13 great-grandchildren.

I wish I were there to again enjoy the inside of Big House during the holidays.

Elizabeth “Tockey” Townsend Dearstyne

Bregenz, Austria