HOW LONG HAVE WE HAD DAISY AND MOWBRAY MOUNTAIN ROOTS?

My Daddy's maternal side of the family mostly lived on Mowbray and Daisy Mountains, but he must have lived for a short time on Flattop Mountain, too.  Daddy told a story of how, sometime in the mid-1940's, he and his brother, my Uncle Buddy, went to the little white building that served as a school and Flattop Church.  My Uncle Buddy used to climb out the window and skip school. Uncle Buddy pointed the window out to me many years ago when we were at a service there. :-) The church still owns the building, but it is no longer used as the main meeting place. 

1910 CENSUS 

Daddy's mother, my Granmaw Mamie, was born in 1906 to Alonzo and Missouri (Patterson) Redden.  It is unsure whether Mamie had a middle name, but Daddy insisted she did, and it was Marie. Mamie appeared on the 1910 census with her parents, Alonzo, who was 28, and Missouri, who was 27.  Alonzo worked as a coalminer, as did most of their neighbors. Coal was a booming industry. Her siblings included Della (8), Carl (5), Mamie (4), Dora (2) and Walter, (2 months) Both Alonzo and Missouri were born in Tennessee, as were their parents. 

Their neighbors were the Pattersons (kinfolk), Hatfields, Bowers, Conners, Lewis, Millsaps, Crows and Grants. Most of the men worked as coalminers. The women stayed home and cared for their children.  

1920 CENSUS

Granmaw Mamie was 13 years old at the time of the 1920 census. Her parents are listed as being 37 years old.  Dora is 17 years old, and Carl is 15. Neither go to school at this time, but Carl is working as a driver in the coal mines.  Ethel is 6 years old; Lawrence is 5, Mary is 3 and Opal is 6 months. Where's Walter? 

Alonzo still worked in the coal mines, as did most of his neighbors, the roll call of which didn't change much in the ten years between censuses. Millsaps, Patterson, Millsaps, Crow, Millsaps, Grant. Millsaps. :-) 

1930 CENSUS

Granmaw Mamie was 23 years old by this time. In 1925 she married Lorenzo (Len) Parker. By 1930 they have two daughters, Glenna (5) and Robbie (1), my two sweet aunts. Lorenzo worked for the state road crew. 

They were listed as living on a gravel road and their neighbors included Parkers, Livelys (kinfolk), Housley's, and Ricketts (kinfolk). I recognize these as Soddy names, so they lived somewhere in Soddy. Another clue that they lived in Soddy is that their neighbors not only worked as coal miners, but in the hotel and in the textile mill, both located in Soddy.  People could not easily travel off the mountain in 1930 for these vocations, so they had to live close to work. 

1940 CENSUS 

Granmaw Mamie was 30 years old in 1940. (Census age records can differ 5+ or 5- years in between censuses.)  The census states she completed the 8th grade.  Lorenzo (Len) was doing road work for the WPA.  They added to their family and along with Glenna (13) and Robbie (11), they were the parents of Imogene (9), Buddy (7) and my dear Daddy, Lawrence (4).  All of the children went to school at this time, except Daddy, who was too young. 

Granmaw Mamie gave birth to two more daughters, Mary Lynn and Carolyn Sue in 1941 and 1944. Carolyn Sue was an infant when her mother died in 1944.  My Daddy was eight and when I was a little girl he talked about her sometimes. I know she had a big singing voice (she was a Redden and Reddens are musical; it is born in them) and she loved to go to church. She was also very small woman.  I inherited her big singing voice and her dark, straight hair. 

NOTE: My 2nd great grandaunt on my mother's side was Luretta Varner, who was born in 1854 and married Thomas Rahn Grant . She is the matriarch of all the Mowbray/Daisy Mountain Grants, so "Hey Grant cousins". 

HOW LONG HAVE WE HAD DAISY AND MOWBRAY MOUNTAIN ROOTS?  

Mamie was born in the year 1906 in Hamilton County, and more than likely it was a home birth on Daisy/Mowbray Mountain. Her father, Alonzo, was from Polk County, but according to the 1900 census, he was living on Mowbray/Daisy Mountain. So, that's at least 123 years. I suspect a bit longer, but the 1890 census was destroyed by fire, so I've had to dig through other records. We shall see! 

HOW LONG HAVE WE LIVED IN BIG SODDY? Part Two

 My maternal grandfather, my Papaw, Thurston Claude Burchard (Pete), was born on October 17, 1913.  His family lived in Big Soddy Gulf (now a Soddy-Daisy city park) where his Daddy was a coal miner. There was a settlement called Burchardville somewhere at the end of the gulf and Flattop Mountain. Papaw walked out of the gulf every morning to go to school and walked back in every afternoon. 

1920 Census 

In 1920 Papaw's Daddy, Grant, was 26 years old, and his mother, Rachel, was 27 years old. Their family consisted of Papaw (6), Ruth (4) and Lucille (1). There was another daughter who died young. She might have been born between Lucille and Ruth. Her name was Vivian.

Grant was working as a coal-miner in the Soddy coal mines. He was born in Tennessee, his father was born in Tennessee and his mother in Georgia.  Rachel was born in Tennessee, and both of her parents were born in Georgia. 

Neighbors included: Burchard, Morgan, Wilson, Brackett (all kinfolk), Welch, Hughes, Bowman, Cranmore, Coleman and Lynch.  I recognize all of these names from my childhood and many of their descendants still live in Soddy and Flattop Mountain. People worked as miners, farmers, textile workers and in the school. 

1930 Census 

Papaw was 16 years old in 1930. Grant was 36 and Rachel was 37. The enumerator listed them as living on Back Valley Road.  *My son, Andy, bought their old homeplace on Back Valley Road just a few years ago.  Their cabin is gone, but it's the same property.* 

The family had grown and in addition to Papaw (16), Ruth (14), Lucille (11) there were brothers Archie (9), Warren (6), and a sister, Mildred (4).  All of the children but Warren and Mildred went to school. Grant was still working in the coal mines. 

Neighbors included: Sims, Morgan, Penny, Burchard, Brackett, Morgan, Coleman, Varner and they worked as truck drivers, in a sawmill, as miners, and in the schools. 

1940 Census 

By 1940 Papaw had married my Mamaw, Ruth Faith Graham, and they were the parents of my Sweet Little Mama, Alyne.  Papaw was age 26 and Mamaw was 22. He owned his own home and his occupation was a farmer. 

My Sweet Little Mama told me this story: 

In 1933 my Mamaw's brother died in an accident and as a result Mamaw was given ten acres of land by her Daddy (George Graham).  Papaw built a house on that land and Mama said Papaw and Mamaw loaded up all their belongings in a wheelbarrow and moved to the new house on Graham Road, where my Mama now lives.  The little house they moved from is either covered by Highway 111 (going up Flattop Mountain), or somewhere behind Varner Cemetery. 

1950 Census 

Papaw was 36 years old, he and his family lived on Graham Road, and he worked as a machinist at Sherman and Reilly, Inc., in Chattanooga.  Mamaw was 32 years old, my Sweet Little Mama was 15, and my aunts, Trudy and Martha, were ages 5 and 6. 

So, now, what is the answer to Andy's question "How long have we lived in Big Soddy"?  

My Papaw, your great-grandfather, was born 110 years ago in a settlement called Burchardville located somewhere back in Soddy Gulf. That's close enough to say "We've lived in Big Soddy for 110 years. 

Census and other records only show information and nothing about people's character or lives.  My Papaw and Mamaw were wonderful people, and the best grandparents a girl could have. They've been gone for many years, but I still love them and think about them. 

 

  

"HOW LONG HAVE WE LIVED IN BIG SODDY"? 

We celebrated Andy's forty-sixth birthday today. Jamie, Chuck and I went to my Sweet Little Mama's house this afternoon to sing happy birthday and eat cake, and eventually our conversation got around to "how long have we been living in Big Soddy"?  Mama told stories as far back as she could remember, I told of people I'd been digging up in my 30-year genealogy quest, and Andy shared stories as far back as his forty-six years could remember. 

This might be a good time to record these things. I have totes and files and notebooks of genealogy records, pictures and papers, but it might be interesting to record those things in cyberspace. So, here goes. 

1920 Census

My maternal grandmother was born Ruth Faith Graham on August 8, 1917, in Perry County, Kentucky.  She was the only one of seven children born in Kentucky to George (Pappy) and Ida Emmerling (Mommy) Graham. Pappy was a coal miner, and for this reason they moved to Kentucky sometime between 1913 and 1917. Ruth's siblings, all born in the state of Tennessee, were Ethel, (21), Lester (17), Alice (14), Granville (11), Trewhitt (8), Georgia (6).  All of these children were born in Southeast Tennessee. George and Ida were age 46 and 40, respectively. They were also born in Southeast Tennessee.  Pappy's brother, Joe (44) was living with them during this time. 

Mamaw Ruth's seventeen-year-old brother, Lester, is listed in this census as working in the coal mines. Alice, Georgia, Trewhitt and Georgia all go to school, and everyone living in Pappy's household can read and write. 

There are no recognizable names among their neighbors, so I believe Pappy and Mommy moved to Kentucky on their own, with no other relatives other than Brother Joe. 

1930 Census

Mamaw Ruth was age 14 at this time, and the Graham family was living on "River Road" in District Three, Hamilton County, Tennessee. I'm certain this is a road in Big Soddy close to Soddy Creek.  Pappy and Mommy were both working, Pappy in the coal mines, and Mommy is an inspector in a textile mill. Mamaw's brother Trewhitt was 20 years old, and still living at home. Sister Georgia was 17 and working in a textile mill. The other siblings had left to marry and make their own homes.

Their neighbor's names are familiar to me because we still live, almost 100 years later, in the same area. Parrott, Coleman, Woosman, Hughes, Daughtrey, Leming.  Jobs and vocations listed on the census include coal miner, textile mill worker, mail carrier, teacher, stone mason, carpenter, sawmill operator. 

1933 - Christmas Eve 

On December 24, 1933 Mamaw Ruth's brother, Granville, who worked for the small southern-based Home Store grocery chain, was making a delivery in Alabama. His truck slid off the road and Granville, 24 years old, died a few hours later. Mr. McDonald, owner of the grocery store chain, felt so bad about Granville's death that he gave Pappy and Mommy sixty-two acres of land in what would become Big Soddy. He portioned the land out to his remaining children; each child received ten acres, and Pappy and Mommy kept two acres for themselves. I was born in 1958 and I remember the house Pappy built and the well in their front yard. He passed away in 1958 when I was three months old. 

1940 Census 

My Mamaw Ruth was 22 years old at the time of the 1940 census. She married my Papaw, Thurston (Pete) Burchard, and they had a five-year-old daughter, Alyne (my Sweet Little Mama). Papaw's name is misspelled as Thurman, and my Mama's name is misspelled as Eileen. Papaw is listed as owning a farm, and my Mamaw didn't work outside the home. Papaw's income is listed as $240 for the previous year, with other unlisted income. 

Their neighbors were mostly Mamaw's siblings, all making a home on the ten acres of land given to them by Pappy and Mommy. Varner, Posey, Penny, Sims, Morgan, Wilson were some of the names, and jobs include mail carrier, miner, farmer, and strawboss. 

Pappy and Mommy were still living on their two acres. Both are in their mid-sixties (same age as I am at this time). There is no job listed for Pappy, and Mommy is working as a seamstress. 

1950 Census 

In 1950 Mamaw Ruth was thirty-two years old. She was keeping house, and my Papaw Pete is thirty-six and worked as a machinist at Sherman and Reilly, Inc. a machine shop in Chattanooga, Tennessee. He had a brilliant mind, and developed products for the company that should have been patented to his name. My Sweet Little Mama was fifteen years old, and her two sisters, my dear aunts Trudy and Martha, were ages five and three. 

Neighbors include Brackett (my Papaw's maternal grandparents), Irwin, Skiles, Dill, more Burchards, Clements, Daughtrey, Cranmore. Jobs include coal mining, farming, machinist and oil station manager. 

That's where the census records end. The 1960 census will not be released until April 2032.  My Mamaw Ruth's siblings eventually sold their portions of land, but my grandparent's held on to their ten acres like a bulldog. My parents bought a little house on a hill, just across the pasture from my grandparent's house and that's where I grew up. I would look out of my bedroom window to a field below, and say to myself, "That's where I want to live someday." And that's where I am now, answering the question my son asked today, on his forty-sixth birthday "How long have we been living in Big Soddy"? 

And so far, we can go back to sometime in 1934, when Mr. McDonald gave Pappy and Mommy, my great-grandparents, sixty-two acres as a death settlement. 

NOTE: The Home Store grocery chain was owned by Roy McDonald, founder of the Chattanooga News-Free Press, and member of the McDonald's Farm family in Sale Creek. 

Local history: Old mcDonald had a farm | Chattanooga Times Free Press

A Wood Thrush Serenade

It is said that the song of the wood thrush is the most beautiful of all the songbirds. I've loved it's song since I was a little girl. I can remember swinging on the tree swing and hearing his lilting, throaty chimes in the treetop far above me.

This morning I got up at daylight, took my first cup of coffee to the porch and was serenaded by a thrush that is spending spring and summer in the woods that surround my home. For half an hour he sang his heart out. It occurred to me that I should record his song for the long winter months when he will be away. When I watched the video I realized I was swinging while listening to him...just as I did when I was a little girl.

Salem, Massachusetts, My Ninth Great-Grandmother and The Original Mean Girls

You never know who you're going to discover when you go ancestor hunting!

A few months ago I was researching my New England ancestors and was astounded, dumbfounded and speechless when I found Sarah Towne Bridges Cloyes, my ninth great-grandmother.

Home of my 9th great-grandmother, Sarah Towne Bridges Cloyes and her 2nd husband Peter Cloyes



I wasn't thrilled or happy when I read her history. You see, Salem, Massachusetts was a scary place to live back in the 1690s. And my 9th great-grandmother was accused and tried of practicing witchcraft during the notorious Salem Witchcraft Trials. Her two sisters, Rebecca Nurse and Mary Esty were tragically accused, tried and hung.  Fortunately, Sarah's (2nd) husband, Peter Cloyes, proved to be loyal and brave. He helped Sarah escape from jail and led her to a safe place, a cave, where they lived until the hysteria was over.



When I discovered Sarah my first thought was, "this would make a great Halloween story for my blog!" I was immediately ashamed of myself. It is so wrong to make light of something so serious and something so scary and to use it for my own benefit. Three hundred years and many generations later, Sarah's 9th great-granddaughter felt her anguish and helplessness at the unfit judicial system that existed during this time.

Deposition against Sarah Towne Bridges Cloyes

There have been many stories written and movies made about the notorious Salem Witchcraft Trials. And there have been many theories about the reason why it all began in the first place. After researching and reading I have decided it was out of ignorance, jealousy, issues within the church and boredom. People are not so different these days. Salem was settled by Puritans, but my research indicates they weren't so pure. There were arguments within the town. Some families had more land, possessions and influence than others and this led to jealousy. And the teenage girls who accused Sarah and many other people of practicing witchcraft were the Original Mean Girls and bored little drama queens. I've always said, "If it's born with an ovary, there's bound to be drama." It was true in the 1690s and it's still true today.

You can find a lot of information about Salem, Massachusetts on the internet.  Because of the witchcraft trials it's become a tourist destination and I intend to visit it one day. Not to "celebrate" the trials, but to honor to my ninth great-grandmother, Sarah. I've read so much about her and her sisters and each time the writers speak of their good character.

From The American Genealogist (pub. 1958), Volume 23 , page 205:
....the three daughters (of William and Joanne Blessing Towne), Rebecca Nurse, Mary Esty and Sarah Cloyes gained a tragic prominence in one of the most unhappy chapters of Salem's history, the witchcraft delusions.  The story has been told many times, but always the nobility of character of the three sisters gains our admiration and respect.

From The Essex (Massachusetts) Genealogist, Volume 23, page 238:
Mary Esty was condemned on September 9, 1692, and it was while she was awaiting execution that she wrote her "humble petition" to Judge William Phipps, the judge and the bench in Salem. It is one of the most touching documents of the year 1692.  She wrote in part, "I petition to your honors not for my own life, for I know I must die and my appointed time is set, but for others, that if it be possible no more innocent blood may be shed." And in fact after the September 22, 1692 hanging of Mary Esty and seven others, there were no more executions for witchcraft in New England.

Eventually, the witchcraft hysteria subsided, but only when the Governor's wife was accused. The Original Mean Girls later apologized for their accusations. How they lived with themselves after causing so much death, pain and hurt is beyond me. So many innocent people lost their lives during this frightening time of early American history.

PBS produced an excellent movie entitled "Three Sovereigns for Sarah" in which Vanessa Redgrave portrays my ninth great-grandmother, Sarah Towne Bridges Cloyes. I would recommend this movie if you are interested in the Salem Witchcraft Trials. I've inserted a clip from the movie and the scene is the hanging of Sarah Good (1st woman) and my 8th grand-aunt, Sarah Cloyes sister, Rebecca Nurse. It's not for the faint-hearted and I actually shed a few tears for this poor soul.



Here's the ancestry line-up:

 

Sarah Towne Bridges Cloyes b.1636 in Yarmouth, England d. 1703 Massachusetts Colony

 



Sarah's daughter: Hannah Bridges Barton b. 1669 d. 1727 Massachusetts Colony

 

Hannah's son: Elisha Barton b. 1701 d. 1776 Massachusetts Colony

 

Elisha's son: David Barton b. 1739 d. 1833 Massachusetts Colony and U.S.A. (Revolutionary War Patriot)

 

David's daughter: Lucina Barton Burchard b.1768 Granby, Massachusetts d.1854 New York 

 

Lucina's son: Horace Burchard b.1801 Massachusetts d.1885 New York 

 

Horace's son: Hamilton Burchard b.1828 New York d.1906 Tennessee

 

Hamilton's son: Henry Franklin Burchard b.1864 Tennessee d.1903 Alabama (coal-mining accident)

 

Henry's  son: Grant Warren Burchard b.1893 d.1939 ( tree limb fell on him 2 weeks after his wife's death) 

 

Grant's son and my Papaw: Thurston Claude Burchard b.1913 d.1984

 

Thurston's daughter and my Sweet Little Momma: Alyne Burchard Parker b. 1934

 

Me-Shelia

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

The Governor of Massachusetts, Jane Swift approved a bill that exonerated the accused "witches". This was on Halloween 2001, which seems like a stunt to me, instead of a heartfelt righting of a wrong.
 

Sarah's Family History

The is really a good movie! I checked it out from the local library.

 

Thanks for reading my blog.

Shelia

Where I'm From

Where I'm From

by Shelia Parker Nelson

I am from cast iron skillets, from Hi-Ho crackers, JFG peanut butter and Bessie's unpasteurized, unhomogonized milk.

I am from the hill in the holler, from a tar-papered house that embraced a home.

I am from wild white dogwoods, sweet pink mimosas, orange ditch lilies, and from the fleabane and Queens Anne's lace that lined the sides of a pig-trail road.

I am from a Friday night supper of homemade hamburgers; Sanford & Son on a new color TV set.  I am from Momma 'n Daddy keeping their family together.

I am from Thanksgiving Dinner served at noon.  I am from letting the men fill their plates first.  I am from Lawrence and Alyne, Parkers and Burchards.

I am from my grandparent's front porch.  I am from "come on in and pull up a cheer."

I am from talkers and listeners.

I am from cracklin' AM radio and from scratchy vinyl records.  I am from Mac Wiseman, the Browns singing about Three Bells, Hee Haw, Lawrence Welk and Porter Waggoner.

I am from "don't touch the dog when it's a'lightnin'". I am from "yuns put your bicycles in the cellar, come on in the house and watch Billy Graham."

I am from rarely saying grace, but always giving thanks.

I am from cotton dresses worn to school under a warm coat.

I am from the southern end of Appalachia, from one whose lineage can be traced to the Mayflower, and from one whose roots disappear into the soil of the early 1800s.

I am from "ain't" and "pillers", from "yonder" and "yuns".  I am from East Tennessee twang.

I am from hik'ry switch stripes on my legs.  I am from encouragement and selfless love.  I am from parents who intended to raise me right, no matter what it took.

I am from a Momma who had a good example to follow, and did it right.  I am from a Daddy who didn't have a good example to follow, but did it right anyway.

I am from the foot of an old Appalachian mountain spur.  I am from a sunset that slides to the south of the mountaintop to let me know we're heading towards winter, and creeps north to give my spirit hope that winter will end.

I am from land given to my family as a death settlement in the last century.  I am from people who held onto this land like a bulldog.  I am from daguerreotypes and tintypes, I am from black and white, I am from color, stored in boxes and albums and held in trust by three strong, sweet women.

I am from Appalachia, beginning in New England and ending in Tennessee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few months ago I was searching the internet for all things Appalachia when I discovered Tipper Pressley's blog "Blind Pig and The Acorn".  I love my Appalachian heritage and Tipper's blog has taken me back so many times to a time when the challenges of life could be overcome with common sense, humor, ingenuity, and determination. Her blog is an expression of an Appalachian life of quiet dignity, simplicity and innocent fun.

Tipper posted the "Where I'm From" poem template on her blog and asked her readers to share their own life stories. I will admit to shedding a few bittersweet tears while writing mine.  Life is both sunshine and shadow, my friends, and I hope you will use this template to write your own "Where I'm From" story.

You can find Tipper's blog at   http://www.blindpigandtheacorn.com/  I guarantee you'll enjoy it!

Thank you for reading my blog,

Shelia



 

It's been raining in Southeast Tennessee for a week! The ground is soggy and squishy, creeks are overflowing and tree limbs are so heavy they bow low or snap into.

The tiny garden is flooded......

....and my sitting place is lonely.  

The leaves glisten.......

My neighbor's old pine tree snapped into.

 The creek is rolling.....

rolling.....rolling....rolling down the river....

No picnics.......

Sometimes a blue sky peeks out from behind the rainclouds....

But it doesn't last long. 

Who'll stop the rain?



Is it raining where you are?

Shelia 

Jabez Burchard: An American Patriot

Have you ever watched the television programs Who Do You Think You Are? and Finding Your Roots with Dr.Henry Louis Gates? These two programs have inspired me to research my own family history. I've always been curious as to who my ancestors are, where they came from and what reason they had for coming to this great country, my beloved United States of America. When did they come to Tennessee? And did my ancestors stay faithful to Old Glory during the Civil War? Or did they pledge allegiance to the Stars and Bars? Yes, I do come from Southern Appalachian coal miners, farmers, laborers, and Native Americans, but I've also discovered roots in New England and the Eastern Coastal states. With each new discovery I realize I have been born into a very interesting pot of human soup!  

 Since this is Independence Day, the birthday of the United States of America, I'd like to introduce you to my Patriot ancestor Jabez Burchard.  My maternal grandfather's family was featured in a genealogical article in the local newspaper a few years ago, so I took the information from the article and began my search.

Jabez Burchard is my fifth great-grandfather. He was born on May 17, 1765 in Granby, Massachusetts Bay Colony. He married Lucina Barton, born April 2, 1768, also in Granby, Massachusetts Bay Colony. The Burchard and Barton families were well established in the American colonies by the middle of the century. Both families appear on page one of the1790 census, so I imagine Jabez and Lucina probably knew each other all their lives. 

When Jabez was sixteen years old the Revolutionary War was being fought and it was decided that Jabez's father, John Birchard, (who spelled Birchard with an "i") would stay at the family farm in Granby and Jabez would go off to war. Can you imagine sending your sixteen year old boy to war? Jabez military record states: Jabez Burchard (1765-1844) served, 1780 as a private at the age of 16 in Captain Barton's company, Col. Porter's Massachusetts regiment.  I don't have a picture of Jabez, but I did find a picture of a Massachusetts Minuteman.  This is what Jabez might have looked like when he went away to fight for freedom. So, Jabez left with the Continental Army and marched with them to Boston, Massachusetts.

Jabez's commanding officer was David Barton, his long-time neighbor and future father-in-law. Since Jabez and Lucina Barton did indeed marry after the war was over (and had a large family), David Barton becomes my 6th great-grandfather and my second Revolutionary War patriot. David's military service record states: David Barton (1739-1833) was a minuteman from Granby at the Lexington and Bennington Alarms. He served as captain in the Fourth Hampshire county regiment, 1780.



There is another story concerning Jabez's military service that I really like: One day while General George Washington was reviewing the troops, "he noticed at the end of the line a tall, handsome ruddy-faced boy.  Washington asked his orderly who the boy was and he answered he did not know.  Washington said, "Go and tell him to come here.' He [Jabez] left the ranks and went with the officer out onto the commons, where Washington sat on his horse.  The General asked him his age, which he gave; then he asked him why he was in the army, and he told him the condition of the family and the circumstances.  When Washington came in, he told him he wanted just such a boy as he was to bring out and hold his horse and carry his letters and dispatches, and do various odd jobs." Jabez thus became General Washington's orderly, and afterwards fought with his Regiment.

Jabez returned from the war and he and Lucina married on December 27, 1786. I haven't found their church membership records yet, but I do know the Congregational Church in Granby has existed since 1762.  Since Jabez and Lucina come from Puritan ancestry, and Puritans were Congregationalists, it is likely they married in the Granby Congregational church.

Puritans believed in large families. Jabez and Lucina had twelve children. Cynthia, Seneca Barton, Sylvester, Jabez Jr., John, Lucina, Theodore, Seneca II (their first Seneca died as an infant and it was custom in those days to name a sibling after a sibling who had passed away), Roxanna, Horace Seaver, Hannah, and Charles Austin. Most of these children grew up to have children of their own. They also grew up to be college administrators, pastors, preachers, educators, judges, businessmen, and government officials.

In 1810 Jabez and Lucina moved their large family to Steuben (or Madison), Oneida County, New York and settled near his brother-in-law, David Barton, Jr., on land originally granted to Baron von Steuben* by the State of New York. Here, in addition to running his farm, he owned and operated a furnace, a plow factory and a blacksmith shop. Jabez was an entrepreneur!  He was also a member of the Baptist church.

Jabez died on 2 January 1844 at 78 years of age. He is buried in the Madison Street Cemetery and his grave is marked not only with his tombstone, but also with a Daughters of the American Revolution marker to commemorate his service as an American Patriot in the Continental Army. The 1850 census shows that Lucina lived with her daughter and namesake, Lucina (and her husband Ichabod) Miller until her death at the age of 85 on 9 March 1854. She is also buried in the Madison Street Cemetery.



Captain David Barton, Lucina's father and my 6th great-grandfather, died in Granby, Massachusetts at the age of 94. His grave is also marked with a Daughters of the American Revolution marker.

I am proud to be the 5th and 6th generation granddaughter of two American Patriots, Private Jabez Burchard and Captain David Barton.

Since I have no personal diaries of either of these men, I do not know their thoughts or feelings. But I do know that they took great risk in joining the Continental Army. Jabez's and Lucina's children and grandchildren went on to become productive and outstanding citizens. Most of them received higher education, so evidently education was important to them. Jabez was obviously industrious. They attended church. It is my hope that their life together was a happy one.

Here's the ancestry lineup: Jabez b.1765 

                                           +

                                            Horace b. 1801

                                          +

                                             Hamilton b.1826

                                         +

                                          Henry b.1864

                                        +

                                         Grant b.1893

                                        +

                                        Thurston (my Papaw) b.1913

                                      +

                                      My Sweet Little Momma b.1935

                                       +

                                           Me b.1958

 *While writing this post I was curious about General von Steuben. Here's what I discovered:

Baron von Steuben was a Prussian born military officer who served as the inspector general and Major General of the Continental Army during the American Revolutionary War.  He is credited with being one of the fathers of the Continental Army in teaching them military drills, tactics and disciplines.  He wrote the Revolutionary War Drill Manual, the book that served as the standard United States drill manual until the War of 1812.  He served as General George Washington's Chief of Staff during the final years of the Revolutionary War.  

 

Baron von Steuben did not speak much English and traveled with a translator. It is said when disciplining and training his troops he would motion to his translator and yell "Over here! Swear at him for me!"

Happy Independence Day to my Beloved UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!!!

Thank you for reading my blog,

Shelia 



The Reading Tree

When I was a little girl there were no shopping malls or summer camps or swimming pools. During our summer break from school my oldest brother and I attended community church sponsored Vacation Bible Schools (which I loved), we sat on the front porch and played games, and we played in the yard and roamed the woods behind our house. I looked forward to my Summer Weekly Reader (delivered by the United States Postal Service on Tuesday mornings), and we went to the summer library program provided by our elementary school.

The library was open Wednesday mornings during the summer months.  The limit was three books, so I chose my books carefully.  My favorite authors were Laura Ingalls Wilder, Beverly Cleary, and Sydney Taylor. I also read a great many biographies, because there's nothing more interesting than people's lives. The non-fiction books held great interest for me too. Doesn't every little girl want to know the location of the great rivers of the world?

Back home from the library, I'd put one of my books, an old pillow, a bologna or potted meat sandwich, a Little Debbie snack cake and a  thermos of Kool-Aid in an old pillowcase, tie it up with a string and go to my grandparent's house. They lived across the pasture from us, and they had the best-climbing tree you ever saw in their front yard. It was a mimosa. A lot of people don't care for mimosas. They are not native to Southeast Tennessee, they are invasive, they are messy, but they are pretty, they smell good and they are easy to climb!

About five feet up, three limbs made a perfect seat. I'd climb the tree, holding the pillowcase, and when I reached the three limbs I'd get my pillowcase out and make myself comfortable. Leaning back against the limbs, I'd get my book out and loose myself in the story for the afternoon. When I got hungry, I'd reach into the pillowcase for my sandwich. When I got thirsty, I'd drink the Kool-Aid from my thermos. And I always looked forward to my Little Debbie Snack Cake. It didn't matter what kind it was.

I traveled many miles in that mimosa tree. I went back to the past and met our Founding Fathers. I spent time on the prairie with Mary and Laura. I learned about honeybees, how to braid hair, I met five little Jewish sisters who lived in New York City in the early 1900s, I read about dogs and horses and birds, learned about the constellations and cycles of the moon, and different rivers of the world, I spent time with four Little Women who lived during the Civil War. I read about the cities of our great country, I read about the earthquakes that formed Reelfoot Lake and I read and I read and I read........

Five feet off the ground in a sweet smelling tree filled with pretty pink blossoms, with a good book, a pillow, and a little food in a pillowcase. That's all I needed to make me happy back in those seemingly innocent days.

My Reading Tree has been gone many years, but I can still take you to the place where it used to be. And every year when the mimosas bloom it takes me back to those days when I was a little girl in my corner of Appalachia.

The pictures of the mimosa trees included in this post were taken this afternoon. Two mimosas drape over my driveway.   In the early mornings, when it's dark and still outside, while Hub and I sit on the porch  and have our morning coffee together, their fragrance glides through the air.  Yes, they are messy! But, if you ever smelled their delicately sweet smell you would think they are worth the mess.

A Moment in History: The Fireman's Fountain, Chattanooga, Tennessee

Monday through Friday I travel 20 or so miles south to downtown Chattanooga, Tennessee. This is one of the sites that is now very familiar to me:  



The Fireman's Fountain is located in a teeny, tiny little city park at the intersection of Lookout St., Sixth St., and Georgia Avenue. The fountain is a memorial to Chattanooga city firefighters Henry Iler and W.M. Peak who perished in the line of duty on June 9, 1887.  It was commissioned and installed in 1888. The tiny park changes with each season. Flowers bloom in the spring and continue through the summer, the flowers fade in the fall and if the temperature drops in the winter months, those of us who pass this fountain on our way to and from work can't help but gaze at the beauty of the frozen fountain.

I am all about some history, so I went looking for old photographs of the tiny little park and the Fireman's Fountain. This was the first photo that caught my eye:  

I am guessing this picture is from the early 1900s. Or 19teens.

Sadly, the ornate buildings to the left of the tiny park no longer exist.  They were torn down for an ugly parking lot.  I have walked through that parking lot many times, wondering what rooms I would be walking through if the buildings still existed. See the tall spire on the left? Still there!!!! I can see it from my office building. And that's all that's left of it; just a spire. There's no longer a building connected to it and the cross no longer sits atop of it. Someone always puts two green Christmas wreaths with red bows on the doors during Christmastime. 

I noticed the pretty curved fence around the tiny park as I was examing the photo. As you can see in the top picture, it is no longer there. What a shame! I also noticed the sign on the gate; a warning!

DANGEROUS

KEEP OUT 

Hmmmm....what could be so dangerous in a tiny little park in downtown Chattanooga Tennessee in the 1900s or 19teens?

I forwarded to the next picture.

 

Those are alligators!!!!!!

 Alligators are not native to Southeast Tennessee! And,

ALLIGATORS ARE DANGEROUS.

This is a mystery to me, dear readers. I am fairly certain these are real alligators. If not, why the warning

DANGEROUS

KEEP OUT  

Before the Nature Center, before Chattanooga's awesome Tennessee Aquarium, before the Chattanooga Zoo...

there were two alligators that spent their days lounging and sunning in a teeny, tiny park in downtown Chattanooga, Tennessee.

If you know more about these alligators, please, please reply. Were they real? (I hope so. This is exactly the kind of quirkiness that appeals to me.) Did they have names? What happened to them during the cold winter months? How long did they live in the tiny park? Did anyone defiantly ignore the warning sign on the gate and enter the park? Who fed them? Did they swim in the 'cement pond'

 underneath the fountain?  

But mostly, I want to know....

Whose idea was this anyway?????????????????????????

Thanks for reading my blog!!!!

Shelia

UPDATE!!!!

I have an answer to the Alligators in the Tiny City Park! My friend and co-worker Pete Burnette, who is also a history buff,  provided the answer and here it is:

"There was a sense of flair for exhibitionism, to have alligators in the fence.  However there 'was' a purpose.  Two fold in fact.  One, to keep birds away from the fountain.  Birds like to drink, but they also like to poop. The city is continually cutting trees downtown, placing wire and other deterrents on the roofs of buildings, along with privately owned buildings as well, to run away birds.  Appalachian birds may have never seen an alligator till they hovered over the fireman's fountain,  their instinct told them not to even THINK about getting close to them, much less landing in their turf!

Another purpose, was to keep dogs from pooping and bums from lounging around the fountain.  Remember, at that time, things were much more sacred than now.  That fireman's fountain was placed there by a community torn with grief from the loss of those firemen!  They wanted that fountain protected .... from everything, including nature!

Yes it was a humorous draw.  Especially when you consider ducks were cheaper.  The curious thing was that after the public fed the 'gators popcorn, the alligators would quack!"
Pete Burnett

I found the sentence about how the community was grieving to be so poignant. I think most of us who live and work here know the history behind it, but we just think of it as a pretty spot in a city of concrete, office buildings, tourist attractions and restaurants, but over a century ago ago, citizens were grieving over the deaths of two firemen. I'll never look at it in the same way again.

Thanks for the answer Pete!

~S~



Why I Love a Clothesline

I've been looking through my Momma's pictures again and found what I have named "The Clothesline Series".  Professional portraits are nice, but nothing illuminates real life like a snapshot.

Here in Appalachia, or at least in the Appalachia I remember as a little girl, we never said "I must go do my laundry." We said, "I'm a'goin' to warsh clothes." Somehow, a soft, slight "r" found its way in between the "a" and "s". I don't hear it so much now, since the Tennessee Appalachian twang is quickly disappearing. But, one day, back in July 1959, my Sweet Little Momma and My Beloved Mamaw got together to 'warsh' clothes.

They look so pretty! No one dresses like this anymore to do daily household chores. I wonder what they talked about? And what was the little dog's name? Do you see potholders, or are those little baby bonnets? Tiny undershirts? Towels? Diapers?

My Sweet Little Momma and Beloved MaMaw must have washed all morning to get the clothes on the line. Finally dry, Momma would fold, hang or iron the clothes, put them away and do it all again a few days later, if the weather cooperated. I remember the smell of those clean clothes; they smelled like summer to me.  Years later we got an electric dryer. Momma still used the clothesline, but she never had to depend on the weather to be clear and sunny and the electric dryer was used a lot during the long winter months.

I love this picture of my Sweet Little Momma. The wind is flapping the clothes and whispering against her skirt.  A bush is blooming in the left hand corner. Notice the clothesline pole?  I wonder what she was thinking while looking over her shoulder?  I wonder if someone was in the outhouse, peeping through the cracks?

Each load of clothes was hung on the line as soon as the washer stopped. By noon, the line was full and Momma always hoped for a steady afternoon breeze. Did you know a steady breeze will soften your clothes? If there's no breeze to flap them dry, they'll dry stiff as a plank!

Ahhh, this picture makes me smile! Three generations of Appalachian women at the clothesline!  Yep, that's me in the chair and my Beloved Mamaw standing behind me.

When Hub and I married married and settled into our first home, my Grandparents bought us a new washing machine and dryer.  I didn't see any sense in using the dryer on warm, sunny days, so Hub and I strung up a clothesline between two trees in the backyard and I used it for a few years. It finally broke, so I used my just-like-new electric dryer. Then the dryer stopped working after many years of use and I hung  our clothes out on the back porch for an entire summer. It may have inconvienced some people, but I didn't mind in the least. I'd wash clothes in the evenings and hang them on the porch rail before I left the following morning for work. They'd be nice and dry by the time I got home. Unless it rained.  Back to the washer they went, except for the towels. I figured the rainwater would only make them softer.

Finally, Hub and I purchased a new electric dryer, but I still wanted a clothesline. I guess my love of clotheslines began when I was a little girl and I've never gotten over it! We bought a fancy, twirly umbrella clothesline and Hub installed it in the backyard.   I used it for a long time (never convinced it was the real thing) until earlier this month. It toppled over, with a freshly washed blanket hanging from it.

Well, Hub, being a man of action, finally decided it was time for a Real Clothesline. Last week he went to the local hardware store and bought 4x4s, a bag of concrete, a new clothesline and all the hardware to build a genuine, heavy-duty clothesline!

It's a modern, tricked-out version of an old-fashioned clothesline.

 You won't see a clothesline pole, because Hub placed turnbuckles on the line. If I have a heavy blanket, all I have to do is adjust the turnbuckle. We had some lattice stored away from a long-ago porch and Hub used it on the end of each 4x4.

What happened to the store-bought umbrella type clothesline, you might ask? That's it on the far right hand side of the picture. It's found a second purpose as a bean trellis. It's always exciting when things can be repurposed!

"Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without!"

An old stump comes in handy when you're hanging out clothes.

I sure do love my new clothesline!

And I want to thank Hub for not only making it functional, but pretty!

Every Saturday morning, when the skies are blue, I will hang out clothes on my new clothesline and sing every old gospel song I know. For a few minutes the world will be clean and fresh-smelling and for some reason less chaotic and troubled. Everybody needs some kind of therapy, and I reckon hanging out clothes must be mine.  

I hope you've enjoyed your visit to My Corner of Appalachia!

Shelia

Thrift Store Shopping with Shelia

I'm not much of a shopper. I'm not one of those people who enjoys 'recreational shopping' in that I look forward to going to the mall every Saturday, or taking shopping vacations. I just don't like it.

But when I do shop, I like thrift stores. Oh, the fabulous array of other people's cast-off stuff fascinates me to no end. 

And I have actually found some pretty nice stuff at my two favorite thrift stores....The Goodwill and Bethel Thrift Store. 

Table linens. The stool in my sewing room. A pewter bread plate. Various old dessert plates. Punch cups. Forest animal beanie babies that I used to decorate the tables for my niece's baby shower last year (totally cute). 

So I thought you might want to take a thrift store shopping trip with me and if you enjoy it, I'll make this a semi-regular post. I say semi-regular because it seems that I cannot post unless the spirit hits me...I have to wait for inspiration. 

C'mon now....let's go to The Goodwill.  

 I found this in the picture bin. Two clowns. Obviously in love. One of them joined the Navy and is going off to sea for a year. The other is going to carry on, solo. They are so much alike that they both bought "I love you" balloons to give to each other as parting gifts. I don't understand clown love, but I do understand how it hurts to say goodbye.

 Ah, the humble secretary. She works long hours and never sees the outside of her office during daylight. From morning till night she toils in her windowless office, with her outdated typewriter and Webster's Dictionary, a secretaries manual, and a copy of Gone With the Wind that she reads during her 15 minute lunchbreak. She decorates her office with paper flowers because she never sees the real ones blooming outside her tiny workspace. She doesn't even have a chair.

 This is a.....actually it's more of a.......I turned it sideways and upside down, trying to figure out it's purpose. It hints at being some sort of egg-carrier.  

Saturday Night Specials.



 

 Do you have problem feet? Do your toes get cold, but your heels get hot? Problem solved! A shoe entrepreneur has invented Special Sneakers to solve your foot problems.

 Anna-one! Anna-two! Boy, did this bring back memories!   I kinda wish I'd bought it, I could have been listening to it right now. As a young teenager I had a crush on Tom Netherton, one of Mr. Welk's singers. I also loved JoAnne Castle and her rollicking, decorated piano. I might have to go back to Goodwill and buy this.  

 I love the Happy Goodmans!!!! And I think my Daddy had this copy of "I'm Too Near Home". They are all home in Heaven now.  Who didn't love Vestal with her big hair, big smile and big heart? She was born and raised in Fyffe, Alabama so she was also an Appalachian Girl.

 Are you pro-vaccine or anti-vaccine? Obviously Paul A. Somebody is pro-vaccine and felt strongly enough to take a bold stance and write a book. And then he titled it "DEADLY CHOICES" and it worked because out of all the books on the shelves this one socked me right between the eyes.  

 Doralean: "My old man fixed me up a exry-cise room on our old sunporch".

ThelmaJean: "He did!? Well, law, are you gonna start exry-cising?"

Doralean: "Yeah, I got ever'thing I need. He even made shelves for my videos. I can exry-cise while I'm watchin' movies and then take a break in my beach chair."

ThelmaJean: "Girl! I'm gonna make my old man fix me up a exry-cise room!"

We are now leaving The Goodwill and going to Bethel Thrift Store. I love Bethel Thrift Store!!!  All of your donations help to fund Bethel Bible Village, a place for young children to stay when their parents are unable to care for them. I strongly suggest you google Bethel Bible Village after reading this blog.

 Advice: if you're giving a party, shower, a fancy swaaray and you want to serve punch in genuine glass punch cups, don't spend a lot of money. Go to Bethel Thrift Store. You can buy punch cups for .50!  Check the rim for cracks! You don't want your guests to cut their lips and bleed all over the place. They might not want to come to any more parties at your house!
 Take them home and run them through your dishwasher a couple of times. It doesn't matter if your punch cups do not match. It is considered shabby chic to have non-matching cups and plates. If I sound experienced at this, it's because I am.  

 Now, honestly, this was a lovely set of dishes. As you can see by the sign, it was SOLD! You can get nice stuff here people. And it goes to a worthy cause.

 Hub and I just purchased a Weston Electric Meat Grinder in order to grind our own beef and chicken. Do-it-yourself meat-grinding isn't new! Here's an old Enterprise Tinned Meat Chopper for $50. It's a deal because the internet price is $100. Hub might want to consider purchasing this in case our electricity goes out. You always need to be prepared.

 More advice: When your kids outgrow their bicycle helmets, batting helmets, etc....consider donating them to Bethel Thrift Store. Hub just informed me that it would be a good idea to have some of these around the house as head protection during tornadoes.

...and lastly, The Nancy Reagan Collection for Thrift Stores. To be quite honest, had I been a size 4..or maybe even a size 2...I would have bought this lovely suit for $12. There was nothing wrong with it, I checked the seams, the buttons, the collar (for discoloration or frays) and it looks brand new. An itty-bitty woman must have cleaned out her closet, because another apricot-colored suit was hanging close beside this one. I took a picture of the lavender one though, because I like the quilt hanging beside it.

Did you have a good time visiting thrift stores with me? Want to go back? Leave me a comment so I'll know!

Thanks for reading my blog and Happy Daylight Savings Time! Rememer tonight we Spring Forward!

Shelia