My mom was raised in the Appalachians in NC. My dad's family was Shenandoah Valley, VA folks. My great Granny Wright had a place on top of a large hill and a creek ran at the bottom, just below "uncle" Bob's house. My Uncle Allen had a place just over the hill and always had cases of Coca Cola because he had worked at the plant all of his adult life. He was a great hunter and we went grouse hunting several times every year in the National Forests south west of Staunton.
My second or third cousin Junior had an outhouse. He won a raffle and everyone suggested that he build an indoor bathroom. No sir, nobody was going to shit in his house. Really. We had a great aunt Juanita that everyone called just Toad. Never knew why, one of those things lost in years of memories.
When I was young, we would visit and the men would go out hunting. I remember the squirrel/rabbit/grouse casserole granny Wright would make and picking the shot out of the food as we ate it. She got her dress hung up on firewood loading her kitchen stove and caught fire, they found her on the lawn between her house and Bob's house. I recall it was 3rd degree burns over 80% of her body and she still took a week to pass. I recall that funeral so well. My granddad inherited the house and I later spent my 12th summer up there helping to add a sunroom and indoor bathroom to first floor of the house. My grand dad would not feed me unless I used formal polite words: please, sir, ma'am, thank you. Those lessons served me well and I am the most polite of my siblings.
When my father died, I had him cremated. I took his ashes to the church where Granny and Granddad, and others in my family, were buried. Surrounded by family, I dug the hole and placed his remains in between his parents (I had the permission and blessings of the church), where he wanted to be for eternity. We said some words and walked away, only to visit a couple of years later to install a marker at the location. I have been back a couple of times in my long life.
Oh well, sorry to go on. But, that was a magical place and so much a part of my life. I could go on forever, really.
Good story. Appalacia is a good place.
ReplyDeleteAgreed sir.
DeleteMy mom was raised in the Appalachians in NC. My dad's family was Shenandoah Valley, VA folks. My great Granny Wright had a place on top of a large hill and a creek ran at the bottom, just below "uncle" Bob's house. My Uncle Allen had a place just over the hill and always had cases of Coca Cola because he had worked at the plant all of his adult life. He was a great hunter and we went grouse hunting several times every year in the National Forests south west of Staunton.
ReplyDeleteMy second or third cousin Junior had an outhouse. He won a raffle and everyone suggested that he build an indoor bathroom. No sir, nobody was going to shit in his house. Really. We had a great aunt Juanita that everyone called just Toad. Never knew why, one of those things lost in years of memories.
When I was young, we would visit and the men would go out hunting. I remember the squirrel/rabbit/grouse casserole granny Wright would make and picking the shot out of the food as we ate it. She got her dress hung up on firewood loading her kitchen stove and caught fire, they found her on the lawn between her house and Bob's house. I recall it was 3rd degree burns over 80% of her body and she still took a week to pass. I recall that funeral so well. My granddad inherited the house and I later spent my 12th summer up there helping to add a sunroom and indoor bathroom to first floor of the house. My grand dad would not feed me unless I used formal polite words: please, sir, ma'am, thank you. Those lessons served me well and I am the most polite of my siblings.
When my father died, I had him cremated. I took his ashes to the church where Granny and Granddad, and others in my family, were buried. Surrounded by family, I dug the hole and placed his remains in between his parents (I had the permission and blessings of the church), where he wanted to be for eternity. We said some words and walked away, only to visit a couple of years later to install a marker at the location. I have been back a couple of times in my long life.
Oh well, sorry to go on. But, that was a magical place and so much a part of my life. I could go on forever, really.
Childhood memories from back in the hills. A warmth unlike any other.
DeleteBy the way. Happy Thanksgiving. I hope all on this blog a happy and healthy year, Stay spicy.
ReplyDeleteHappy Thanksgiving! Thank you for what you do.
ReplyDeleteGrew up dirt poor in Harlan County, KY in 1970’s. Poor as heck, but you can bet we ate like royals on Thanksgiving Day!
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