The Origins of the Faire Godhogget

 History of The Faire Godhogget

The story of the Faire Godhogget goes all the way back to 1990 in Greensburg, Pennsylvania, in the early days of our family. Cyn and I were renting an apartment on West Newton St. in a house that was suddenly up for sale. The house was divided into two apartments. One on the second floor and ours on the first. The real estate company selling the building became very obnoxious about bringing prospective buyers into our apartment to see the property. We grew very tired of the rudeness and condescension on the part of the real estate agents. I’m sure they considered us “the poors” and not worthy of respect or courtesy. They believed that they could parade prospective buyers through our lives at any time of the day or night.

Because of this, Cyn and I started looking for someplace else to live. In the paper, we read of a “rent to own” property, so we decided to have a look. The property was an old wood frame house on Euclid Ave. in Greensburg. It was in terrible shape and would require a lot of work. It was a major mess. The house was painted a sickly shade of yellow with a dull brown trim. It was ugly, or as Cyn would say, “fugly!” One side of the house faced a large creek, which is part of the flood control system of Greensburg and had high cement walls to contain the heavy rain and a rusted chain-link fence on both sides to prevent falling into the thing. It hardly made the neighborhood beautiful. It was very Brutalist and depressing. The siding on the house, being ancient clapboard, was horribly weathered. It was so weathered that much of it was splintering.

We initially thought the man selling us the property was a decent guy. In the end, we'd find out he wasn't, but that's another story. We signed the property contract and began working during our off hours to complete the necessary repairs to meet local building codes and live in the structure. I needed to completely plumb the house. All of the pipes had been stripped out for copper. I'd never done anything so extensive before, but we learned as we went. I also had to install a gas water heater and fix some electrical issues. I was terrified of not being able to get everything done, but Cyn believed in me. I couldn't have completed the work without her confidence in me and her endless mirth at my numerous mistakes. Finally, in the spring of 1990, we were able to move into the house. 

Life carried on. We kept working at our jobs. During the day, I worked as a photographer at Westmoreland County Community College, and at night, I washed dishes at Hoss' Steak House. Cyn worked in both the salad bar and the back kitchen at Hoss'. We spent many nights working together. Our schedule was hectic. We were exhausted most days, but we had the house and our three-year-old son, Jared, to support. Despite the difficulties, it was a fun time, and we had so many hopes for the future. I had my drawing studio in the attic, and Cyn set up her sewing studio in the basement. It was in that basement that the Faire Godhogget legend began. 

Cyn was at home while I worked the evening shift on an early summer day. She did not have to work that night. She was working in her sewing studio with Jared and her son from her first marriage, who was visiting for the weekend as her company. While they hung out in the basement, listening to music, Cyn was busy sewing the eleven pairs of curtains we needed for our windows on her beloved 1976 Kenmore metal-body industrial sewing machine that she considered her baby. They We suddenly heard a noise upstairs in our dining room. The basement stairs led into this room.  Concerned, Cyn and the boys climbed the stairs, with her big, brave teenage son Bruce, a high school wrestler, pushing her out front for protection. Jared followed closely behind.

When they opened the basement door, they found a bedraggled, drunken woman wandering around the dining room, seemingly unsure of her surroundings. If I recall correctly, the woman was either homeless or moving from one friend's house to another. Unfortunately, many of our new neighbors were drunks and unpleasant people. We were close to several bars and beer outlets, and it appeared that all of the regulars lived in the dilapidated houses that surrounded us. It was a very impoverished and neglected part of town.  

Cyn was shocked and yelled for the woman to leave our house. My memory of the incident is hazy because I was not present, and I am relying on Cyn's recollection of the story she has told over the last 35 years. After much commotion, Cyn got the woman out of the house and on her way.

That's when Jared asked his mother if the old woman was the "Fairy Godhogget." Our memory has faded as to why Jared called her that. Jared was always inventing his own words for things, and they were always funny. The name stuck and is still remembered.

Cyn is gone now, and Jared can’t remember why he called this old woman the “Fairy Godhogget.” He was much too young at that time to fully remember those days today.

For many years, Cyn thought about writing a story about the character Jared had created in his moment of excitement. She thought of the Faire Godhogget. She had her fantasy world located in “Cyn’s Wood,” giving her character a husband called the “Filthy Bastard.” I recently found some notes she made in 2003 that I will include here as transcribed text. I asked her many times to write her story and said that I would do the pictures for her, but Cyn was as much a person with extreme ADHD as I. The story never materialized. She was always doing something. Sewing, crafting jewelry, or doing math equations for fun. She has notebooks filled with weather patterns that she was studying that appeared to coincide with volcanic eruptions. Sadly, over the years, as her health faded, so did her energy. She had much to write. Her life began with severe parental abuse, and she wanted to write about how she survived, but it was so awful, she was never able to write more than a few pages. In many ways, the Faire Godhogget truly became her identity throughout the years.  I hope to use her in a book soon.

I publish this brief explanation in her memory.

Cynthia Gayle Tompkins-Hainan-Long-Baldinger (1955-2025)

Transcription of Cyn’s handwritten notes:

"During the early days of “Cyn’s Woods,” Filthy Bastard roamed every nook and cranky crevice and cave, slop hole, and dried-up lake until the time of the “unrest” occurred unexpectedly one day. His [grunyling*], unbathed, and falling-down-drunk episodes finally pushed his wife, The Faire Godhogget, over the edge. So far, in fact, that forever and all time, Filthy Bastard was to be banished in the farthest corner of the “Void.” This location was just past the swamp, through the Crenile field, and into the “Land of the Unexplored Rocks.” It was the most barren parcel of real estate, and secretly, the Faire Godhogget was pleased to rid herself of the “Filthy Bastard” and have that blasted parcel of the “Void” finally occupied even if it was “The Filthy Bastard” who was there."

Along the side of the page: 

"Faire God Hogget has amnesia - she woke up in wilderness she named “Cyn’s Wood”

She did not know who Cyn was."

*I can’t transcribe what the word Cyn wrote is. This is as close as I get.

Flip Side Page 2 Image

Image: Drawing by Cyn

Text: "Faire God Hogget

Try to incorporate my real mannerisms, especially the odd, funny + unique to me mannerisms."

Early doodles of the Faire Godhogget that I did for Cyn 2004.

Notes by Cyn: "Filthy Bastard, much larger, sloppier, hairy, wart, stinks, Teeth-fewer, uneven, food hanging out of face."

I love you, Cyn. I wish you were still here. I miss your laughter, your thoughts, and your presence.