Sunday, October 12, 2014
I was delighted to be invited to participate in a Writers' Blog Tour by fellow blogger and ProGen friend, Liz Loveland. The purpose of the tour is to highlight writers and bring attention to their blogs. Each participant is to answer the following four questions and introduce two new writers. My post has taken some additional time to post; soon after Liz asked me to participate I had to load a moving truck and drive across the country from West Virginia to my home in Oregon. Two days later I was scheduled to speak at the Genealogical Council of Oregon Genealogy Fest in Eugene.
An old plow in pieces.
A box of rocks.
My son Jamie and his girlfriend Tammy didn't bat an eye at the curious assortment of items crammed into the rental truck I drove across the country recently. The only remarks were from Tammy, who was counting chairs as she discovered them in the truck. Nine, nine chairs, including my Grandmother’s dining room chairs. The truck was loaded with things from my Mother’s house. I would have driven a bigger one but I was worried about driving a wider, longer truck across the country by myself. There was a reason for every item in that truck, even the big box of rocks. From the family that shipped, or carried, an antique cast iron (heavy) rabbit across the country three times, a box of rocks in a truck is nothing. As a matter of fact, several of those rocks traveled to West Virginia from North Carolina first.
Also in the truck: starts from garden plants, most I had sent her; more than 40 packing boxes and about 20 large plastic bins; tubs of photos, of course; a collection of old strainers and colanders; coal miner’s lamps; and a lifetime of memories.
For me, every item in the truck holds happy memories. There is the Grams Care Bear Jamie gave my Mother one year (the kids call her Gram), and a pillow I embroidered many years ago. She kept all the silly little noisemaker creatures that we included in every Christmas stocking and birthday package, like the Taco Bell dogs. She would always bring some out for visiting children or dogs. There was the boxed set of Little House on the Prairie books, the ones I read to my family every evening when the kids were young. We read that entire set one year. There were three Bibles at her house; they were extremely important to her, even after she lost her sight. Each of her children got one. Mine was carefully wrapped and placed in a box with other “important” items. There were, of course, some conventional items as well, but all of them had a personal reason for being there. And, my glass collecting friends, there was an assortment of Blenko packed in the boxes, along with some of her Fiesta.
I can barely walk through my house right now. I’m waiting for my children to collect the items that have been set aside for them. I enjoy opening the boxes and thinking about happier time; I hope they will too.
Oh, the rocks. We had a running joke about my “list”. Every summer when I went to West Virginia Mom had to-do list ready for me. One year she wanted a pond, lined with rocks. So I bought a liner, dug a hole and made her a pond. I used some stone blocks that matched her sandstone house and the load of beautiful North Carolina rocks my Uncle hauled for her. She had a pond that she loved to listen to while sitting on the patio that was the result of an earlier list.
|Mom on her patio surrounded by her flowers. The pond is to her left. |
We were taking pictures for her Christmas card.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
For a little girl full of energy, with two younger siblings, Mom and Pop's house was my haven. I could, and did, run clothes through the wringer washer, take blankets and sheets outside and make huge "Arabian" tents over the clotheslines, frequently cause volcanoes to erupt in the kitchen, and play with snakes in the yard. They put up with it all, with kindness and patience.
Their house had a wrap-around porch lined with pots of flowers and a swing. I liked nothing better than to set on the swing in the midst of a thunderstorm. Mom would be calling out the window, "Judi Ann, get in this house before you get struck by lightening," or some such. I still love thunderstorms.
Monday, September 1, 2014
You can visit just about any long-operating city in this country and find a local monument to the rich capitalist who built the mansion during year whatever. But you have to look far and wide to find memorials to the people whose labor created those riches, to those who died in the battles for such modern-day givens as the eight-hour work day and weekends off, and to the organizers who brought the workers together into the unions that helped create the nation’s now-disappearing middle class.
Los Angeles Times
“Opinion: The new battle over Blair Mountain -- with lawyers instead of guns.”
The crutches are due to a mine injury.
"On a hot summer day in 1921 Clyde Herbert Eastham slung his shotgun over his shoulder, kissed his young wife and babies goodbye, and marched out the door of his cramped coal camp cabin to join thousands of other West Virginia miners in a strike that had the attention of the entire country."
That is the beginning of a story I wrote about my grandfather, Clyde Herbert Eastham, and his participation in the struggle to unionize the coal mines of West Virginia. This particular attempt culminated in the Battle of Blair Mountain and ended in defeat. Thousands of miners marched in West Virginia tired of their working conditions, including the murder of many who tried to change the system. They made a stand on Blair Mountain, against an army of “special deputies”, Baldwin-Felts thugs, state police, and eventually federal troops, accompanied by 14 armed bombers. My grandfather was blacklisted from the mines for years, but he continued the effort, even holding secret meetings at his home.
Thursday, July 10, 2014
On the road again
Every year, sometime after our Eastham family reunion on the second Saturday in June, it has been our practice to take a road trip: my mother, my sister, and me. Several of our trips covered bits of the Blue Ridge Parkway. We even stopped by Dollywood one summer and liked it way more than we expected.
Always, as soon as we were on the highway, Mom would sing "On the road again . . ." She was always excited to take a trip. My sister says if you called and ask her to take a trip she would be standing at the curb with her bag packed before you hung up.
Mom was game for anything. Several years ago she rode the highest roller coaster in the world (at that time) at Cedar Point with my son Jamie and me. Recently Lynn and I took her up Grandfather Mountain to stand on a metal bridge in a storm, just because we always wanted to do it, and this was our chance.
|Mom, Lynn, Judi: Mile high swinging bridge, Grandfather Mountain, North Carolina.|
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Additional Classes Available:
Naturalizations: All The Papers in Packet, by Jewell Dunn
Cutting Through the Confusion: Research in Upstate New York, by Karen Mauer Green, CG, FGBS
Fabulous and Free FamilySearch.org, by JoAnne Haugen, AG®
Using the Flip-Pal Scanner with Photoshop Elements, by Jim Johnson
Getting From Then To Now Locating People In The Last Century, by Leslie Lawson
Ancestry.com—Tips and Tricks, by Susan LeBlanc, AG®
Artifacts and Our Ancestor’s Lives, by Connie Lenzen, CG
What’s A Deed?, by Kevin Mittge
Start Writing—Your ancestor’s legacy depends upon it!, by Steven W. Morrison
Placing Out: The Story of America’s Orphan Train Children, by Judith Beaman Scott
Dating and Identifying Your Family Photographs, by Karen Wallace Steely
Correlation for Beginners: How to use simple tables to see your evidence differently., by Eric Stroschein
Friday, July 4, 2014
John Chadwick was born some time around 1760. He was living in North Carolina when the Revolutionary War broke out around him. His father's house was burned, and John joined the army.
|5 September 1836. Declaration of John Chadwick, County Court, Greenup, Kentucky.|
John Chadwick took part in the Battle of Guilford Courthouse on March 15, 1871 a crucial battle of the Southern Campaign. Although Major General Nathaniel Green and his 4,500 militia and Continental troops were forced to withdraw by a smaller army led by Lord Cornwallis, it was at a huge cost to the English army. The battle broke the tide of the British in the Carolinas; Cornwallis withdrew to Virginia, where he surrendered at Yorktown that October.
After the war John moved to Kentucky. On 12 March 1796, in Paris, Bourbon County, he married Kerenhappuch Shortridge, the daughter of George Shortridge and Margaret Muir. The couple raised a family of twelve children in Greenup County, Kentucky.
After Kerenhappuch's death on 17 May 1840, John married the widow Lucinda Bartrum. Both John and his widow Lucinda received a pension based on his service in the Revolutionary War. John died on 4 April 1850. John was buried in a family cemetery on land along the Big Sandy River in Greenup County. The Ashland Oil Company purchased the land and numerous graves were moved from the original cemetery. The original tombstones were removed, but were not placed in the new location.
1. John Chadwick pension file; digital image, Fold3.com (www.fold3.com : downloaded 2 July 2014)
images from Revolutionary War Pension and Bounty-Land Warrant Application Files, NARA M804, no roll number given.
2."Battle of Guilford Courthouse" http://www.nps.gov/nr/twhp/wwwlps/lessons/32guilford/32guilford.htm
3. Bourbon County Marriage Register, County Clerk, Paris.
4. "John Chadwick Family Bible 1797-1821, "Tree Shaker, Vol 3, # 1, winter 1979; transcription John Chadwick Family Bible by Doris C Miller.
5. John Chadwick pension file.
6. John Chadwick pension file.
Thursday, March 6, 2014
Her fourteen great-grandchildren, to whom she is “Gram” or “Great”, are: Brynn and Ian Searcy; Lindsay, Wyatt, Charlie, and Ella Beaman; Riley and Ryan Muto; Kolbey and Jamison Walker; Kylie Seaton; and Max, Nikolaus and Juliana vonWulffen.