Ravensworth Road: Then and now
Here’s what the reader says about the photo and her recollections of Annandale:
“The house shown is the Coffey home. The only person living there at the time of the picture was Annie Coffey. Annie was odd, probably not of sound mind. I was so scared of her. I only saw her a couple of times when I was walking home from Annandale. She would peak out from behind one of the buildings as I went by. My mother was so upset because about every 28 days Annie hung a red cloth on the clothes line. I was way too young to understand at that time.” [Huh? That is weird.]
“Part of the property was sold to built St. Michael’s. I think Annie went to Staunton later on. [Staunton, Va., is the home of the Western State Hospital, a state psychiatric hospital.] Annie’s brother, Frank, had a personal hygiene problem. No one wanted to be around Frank. When Annie, or possibly another family member, died, Frank went to Bergen’s Men’s Shop for a suit to wear to the funeral. It was a challenge for the shop to fit the suit.”
“In the picture, the mailbox up the road was Maude Orndorff’s, my Aunt Maude. She never married and taught school at Washington & Lee in Arlington for 40 years. Can you believe I have run into at least six people in this area who had her as a teacher? She had narcolepsy and sometimes fell asleep in class, so none of them forgot her.”
The story goes that Father Scannell who started St. Michalels bought the Coffey family's 21 acres – at $1000 per acre – in the early 1950's. In 1952, St. Michaels opened as a "mission." Many older St. Michaels parishioners will remember seeing Mr. Coffey. They would remember him as the owner of the photo described them.
It's sad these folks had health issues, but they are long gone. Must you resurrect their problems? May they RIP.
I lived On Ravensworth Rd in Annandale in early ’60s. Wonderful childhood memories!!! I just found this article. I had a very special friend who camped in the wood by St. Michael Church. Every Sunday I would scamper up to church before my family so I could make my weekly delivery to my friend–always hoping to hear a story. It was Mr. Coffey. His campsite was his home. He told me he was a “hobo.” My friends and I would hang on his every wood. We all knew he was “special” but we were too young to identify it. We all truly loved him and were so proud to have him in our lives. One day my Mom asked where the canned goods were disappearing to. I told her I had a special friend and was taking food to him. “She” packed up my next delivery. Over the years I have shared my Mr. Coffey stories with my grandchildren. How many people can say they had a dear special sweet and gentle soul as a friend–“My Dear Sweet Hobo in the Wood.”😍