General Electric
Antique Electric Fan
16" Oscillator Table Fan
Antique Electric Fan Specs
| |
|---|---|
| Manufacturer | General Electric |
| Model | 78X233 |
| Size | 16" |
| Housing | Steel |
| Blade | Steel |
| Cage | Steel, 3 × 3 |
| Wings | 4 |
| Speeds | 3 |
| Switch | Lever |
| Mode | Oscillating |
| Type | Desk |
| Year | 1940-41 |
What Feeds Your Soul?
The Three Gs ─ Gusta, Genealogy, and a GE 78X233
Sometimes life gets hard, for everyone. It doesn't matter if you are a single parent, married without children, or if you are caring for an ill family member. At some point you start to lose your stability, your sanity. That's when you need to step back, take a breather, and re-group. Your soul is nearly depleted of its life and you need to nourish it. Feeding your soul is one of the things that helps you move forward in life.People feed their souls in countless ways. Maybe you feed your soul with a spiritual journey. Maybe you enjoy fishing, sports, cooking, or reading. One of the ways I feed my soul is with old electric fans. Sometimes it isn't the fan itself, but the adventure for the fan. And, if you are reading this, you may find that this is this is true of you, too.
I saw this fan listed on Craigslist in Madison, Wisconsin in August of 2017. It was a simple ad that didn't offer much context besides the model number, but I adored the pictures. I liked the formal look of the black cage on the black blades. I loved the clean linear lines of the 3 × 3 cage, and how slim the cage looked in profile.
I contacted the seller via email and he was very polite and was accustom to using cordial business verbiage. There have been a number of times that I respond to an online ad and the seller can barely string a few words together, much less use any punctuation. (Yes, I can be a bit of a grammar police officer at times).
The seller owned McGovern & Sons, a store that carried Benjamin Moore paint, among other wall covering products. I made an appointment to see the fan at his store. I hurried out of work on a Tuesday afternoon and sped home to pick up my devoted sidekick, my Chihuahua, Gusta Wind. No road trip is complete without my Gusta. She copilots from her dog seat that hangs about the passenger seat headrest. Gusta stares at me while I drive. Many dogs look out the window, but Gusta could not care less about looking out the window until the car is slowing and it might be time to explore a new territory to mark as hers.
Gusta and I drove on I-90 West and headed to Madison and arrived at McGovern & Sons just before closing. The store was empty except for two employees. I greeted a very young fellow at the counter ─ he shook my hand, introduced himself as the owner's son, Charles, and petted Gusta. I place my pup on the floor and she raced around and sniffed every inch of flooring, including behind the counter. Little dogs often have free reign and tend to get away with murder based on their pint-sized cuteness; my girl is no exception to this rule. She routinely wins over the hearts of non-dog people. You could see Charles smile as Gusta turned the corner and went into the next room.
Charles proceeded to show me the fan that was on the back counter. I was amazed at the condition of the fan; the pictures didn't do it justice. Aside from a light layer of dirt, the fan was in pristine condition. There weren't any bends in the cage and the blades were straight. We plugged it in and she ran just as it did when it was new, smooth and quiet.
Charles said that his grandmother had died last year and they were clearing out her house and came across this fan in the basement. He seemed disconnected from the fan I was trying to purchase. He probably didn't have any history or memories with the fan, and it was just an object that needed to be sold from his grandmother's estate. I, on the other hand, was the opposite of him. From the first meeting of this fan, I had an attachment to her.
Charles helped me load up the car with the new fan as I placed Gusta in her seat. I thanked him and secured the fan for the ride home. We were leaving Madison and we hit crawling rush hour traffic. At this point, I knew it was time ─ time to feed my soul. I turned off the GPS and let the western sun be my guide. I wiggled around side roads and headed south until I broke free from the traffic and I pulled the paper map from the pocket in the passenger seat. It was time to take the road less traveled.
I ended up turning onto County Road PB and came upon the town of Paoli, Wisconsin. There wasn't much to this sparse town except for the routine pubs and churches that you might expect in any Small Town, USA. I don't even remember a gas station in the town. Still, the name Paoli stuck in my mind and I knew I had heard the name before this spontaneous trip.
Just south of Paoli the road opened up and we returned to 55 MPH. We were passing cornfields and the occasional dairy farm. Just then, there was a tiny cemetery on the east side of the road with a sign, Paoli Cemetery. The connection was finally made in my brain! I recalled the genealogy writings of my Great Uncle Robert and remembered that some of my ancestors were buried there.
I pulled a u-turn at the next farm and headed back to the tiny cemetery. I wracked my brain for those minute details that I had mindlessly stored. I finally remembered that my great-great grandmother, Fannie Hamblet Griffith Dunn was buried there. She had died at the age of 27 years old, when my great-grandmother, Florence, was just 5 years old.
Fannie also had a daughter, Gracie who only lived two days. Gracie's tombstone had some moss growing on the top of it, between the letters of her name. I was totally unprepared for a gravestone cleaning as I didn't have my typical genealogy cemetery toolkit with me. I pulled the only thing from my wallet that I could use to scrape the moss from the stone, a Home Depot gift card. Just as I was about to clean the stone, Gusta sweetly rested her chin on my hand. Maybe it was to say that she was enjoying the adventure. Maybe it was to say thank you for caring enough about the history. You can never quite tell what a dog's soulful eyes are trying to say.
I walked the rest of the cemetery rows and Gusta bounced along next to me in the long grass with her short little legs. We returned to the car and I filled her travel bowl with water and she took a few laps. The sun was starting to set and it was nearly time to get back on the road. I retrieved the fan from the backseat and placed it in a grassy clearing. Gusta laid in front of it and closed her eyes as she soaked in the sun. It was a picture perfect moment. In that instant, I had no stress and just looked adoringly at my dedicated dog and opened myself to the solace of my surroundings.
So many things fed my soul on this trip. The adventure to purchase and appreciate an antique fan. The clear blue sky and the rolling green hills of Southern Wisconsin. Standing if front the nearly forgotten tombstones and reconnecting with my English and Irish ancestral roots. And, of course, spending time with my forever faithful, Gusta Wind.