tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64114543318355343072024-02-07T21:00:22.203-05:00Passed and PresenceDedicated to the memory of those who have passed before us and to the honor of those whose presence blesses us today.Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-437537058906519062013-04-02T19:02:00.000-04:002013-04-02T19:02:12.961-04:00Revolutionary War Heroine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwVuwpGJDJk4m1cUrH8qp79C2WlbLxTc9NzPpgg2TTWDLBqVFkWq4xSDbFH7Nzp2kzZJW8YlsB_0dT01iRfts-Kc_WEx9aO_VzDsjQJ6HPzFhwJhJOJxyY0vDzFGOpmp_HR9wfslVMC1E/s1600/jane_0910+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwVuwpGJDJk4m1cUrH8qp79C2WlbLxTc9NzPpgg2TTWDLBqVFkWq4xSDbFH7Nzp2kzZJW8YlsB_0dT01iRfts-Kc_WEx9aO_VzDsjQJ6HPzFhwJhJOJxyY0vDzFGOpmp_HR9wfslVMC1E/s1600/jane_0910+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwVuwpGJDJk4m1cUrH8qp79C2WlbLxTc9NzPpgg2TTWDLBqVFkWq4xSDbFH7Nzp2kzZJW8YlsB_0dT01iRfts-Kc_WEx9aO_VzDsjQJ6HPzFhwJhJOJxyY0vDzFGOpmp_HR9wfslVMC1E/s200/jane_0910+%25282%2529.JPG" width="190" /></a><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Oh, the stock of women we come from! Eli
Loveday's wife Callie (Spurgeon)'s great-great-great grandmother was Jane
Spurgeon, a Revolutionary War heroine, whose husband William remained loyal to
the crown and eventually (1788) had to go live in Canada, where he raised a
second family. Even William's brothers were split between the Loyalist and
Patriot causes. </strong></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong></strong></span></span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>While William was away fighting in the king's army, Jane stayed
behind and assisted General Greene when he came to Abbott's
Creek, North Carolina, and stayed at their house (1781), anticipating an attack
by Cornwallis. Patriot Jane offered her young son to act as a scout to learn
key information about redcoat activities. </strong></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong></strong></span></span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN;"><span style="background-color: black; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>Earlier (1775), her husband, William
Spurgeon, Jr., had been a part of Daniel Boone's Transylvania Company that
ventured into Kentucky. He returned to NC but left a son there to manage the
land, which was later traded for a horse so the son could return to NC, too,
after Indians attacked. </strong></span></span></div>
Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-15049597268813918912011-09-01T11:42:00.006-04:002011-09-01T12:16:23.115-04:00Researching institutional archives<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMEEXdmlxOMPsKcF-l2UP0rynbEbo3OQUQ_iR8Wy-TaIDSE_M6ojWLuajep8_272FzoY7Kfkway3Bp8n64GzAo3c50W841V8E3xcIL2bRlf503S8mI1Hb8rGvX-jQOB6Jw3FbgV6Yb3eo/s1600/Book+cover.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 219px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647419249322301410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMEEXdmlxOMPsKcF-l2UP0rynbEbo3OQUQ_iR8Wy-TaIDSE_M6ojWLuajep8_272FzoY7Kfkway3Bp8n64GzAo3c50W841V8E3xcIL2bRlf503S8mI1Hb8rGvX-jQOB6Jw3FbgV6Yb3eo/s320/Book+cover.jpg" /></a>
<br />
<br /><div>While completing my new book, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/pages/Milligan-College-Teacher-Education-Programs/143131831629#!/pages/Milligan-College-An-Arcadia-pictorial-history-book-by-Jan-Loveday/210759702292000">Milligan College</a> (part of Arcadia Publishing's Campus History series), I realized what a treasure trove that college archives might be for genealogists. For instance, the collection of Josephus Hopwood, former president and key figure in Milligan's history, includes student essays and class rosters dating back to the mid 1800s. How cool would it be to read something your ancestor wrote in college? The Hopwood collection consists of more than six forgotten boxes of materials that were discovered in a campus garage in the 1950s. </div>
<br /><div></div>
<br /><div>In addition to the Hopwood letters, flyers, catalog materials, etc., the archives have photos, memorabilia, matriculation and graduates lists, and campus publications like yearbooks, newspapers, event programs and more.</div>
<br /><div></div>
<br /><div>In the area of Overmountain Men known for their Revolutionary War contribution at King's Mountain, Milligan has had many descendants of significant historic figures grace its halls. It also helped train officers for World War I and was the only college in the nation entirely turned over to the Navy V-12 program during World War II.</div>
<br />Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-22250418807504340552010-12-28T22:45:00.003-05:002010-12-28T23:01:07.386-05:00Masons and the Eastern Star<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9tqs0V6rR1G5hRh6Y6VdWDiJ0AySNed2l3Cjz5mHuoGMVBDIkQrO5Q4teHX2RrWKG0xLNmFpm5QdNU7N0_h9nnrwX3QXHDwZjx57N4LeYbLrjktlgaEFZ0BHOIJ1eYcSoS1morsGMibM/s1600/ZionCemetery1.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555949017179222130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9tqs0V6rR1G5hRh6Y6VdWDiJ0AySNed2l3Cjz5mHuoGMVBDIkQrO5Q4teHX2RrWKG0xLNmFpm5QdNU7N0_h9nnrwX3QXHDwZjx57N4LeYbLrjktlgaEFZ0BHOIJ1eYcSoS1morsGMibM/s320/ZionCemetery1.jpg" /></a>Among the many Rosenbalms buried at Zion United Methodist Church near Damascus, Virginia, are several markers with the Masonic emblem. I was immediately reminded of my grandmother Margaret Hopson Kitts' funeral, where two ladies from the Eastern Star recited some ritual and stuck carnations into the beautiful spray of roses on the casket, making the styrofoam floral base screech with each effort. At one point, a lady accidentally said something about "blessed immorality" instead of "blessed immortality," which turned my frustration into amusement. My grandmother would have found it funny!<br /><div></div><br /><div>I've often wondered how my Mamaw Kitts was tied to the Eastern Star, knowing that a woman can't join it without a male family member in the Masonic Lodge. Since she is a Rosenbalm descendant, it looks like it must have been in the family for a while. That would make another good research project!</div>Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-3645054562626021012010-12-28T22:24:00.006-05:002010-12-28T22:38:46.349-05:00Rosenbalms of Damascus<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC46bj0SBBSqtMT4WM4uWQXh1hqm8l9aCPucwCtyYzfR12gnmpQS-LtZRmy_7TbiiggFzjfB3Ms8iKIQ9Rx2iUnkE8z2kF54MrOiYROiOLFzuaoZj3s_EDRf5-jEKTBrNyNEsBddBfpI0/s1600/Old+Rosenbalm+Home+in+Damascus.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555942094872964050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC46bj0SBBSqtMT4WM4uWQXh1hqm8l9aCPucwCtyYzfR12gnmpQS-LtZRmy_7TbiiggFzjfB3Ms8iKIQ9Rx2iUnkE8z2kF54MrOiYROiOLFzuaoZj3s_EDRf5-jEKTBrNyNEsBddBfpI0/s320/Old+Rosenbalm+Home+in+Damascus.jpg" /></a>A few months ago, I stopped at Zion United Methodist Church near Damascus, Virginia, to locate Rosenbalm graves there. To my delight, a couple of ladies were in the church parking lot, so I just had to introduce myself and ask a few questions about the Rosenbalms. Fortunately for me, one of the ladies began to tell me about the old homeplace, which just happened to be over the hill from the church. Away we went!<br /><br />She actually showed me two old houses, one of which has been identified as the oldest in the county, and possibly the oldest in the state. A descendant is about to combine the two old homes into a new one.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9YmwKwm88lVHR4iLSvMsDDsvjnOE-ovzkDZ6oTnuxMwS52o_4tzcOfGp4XrN_t-tpfp96ZVvSXlM-yL6HbJONLyTofQYNcuWpx69E0RkS4yTQCuYGjSu3KqW0EH1O3O8Jog60xVGNn50/s1600/Old+Rosenbalm+Home+in+Damascus2.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555942843308212338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9YmwKwm88lVHR4iLSvMsDDsvjnOE-ovzkDZ6oTnuxMwS52o_4tzcOfGp4XrN_t-tpfp96ZVvSXlM-yL6HbJONLyTofQYNcuWpx69E0RkS4yTQCuYGjSu3KqW0EH1O3O8Jog60xVGNn50/s320/Old+Rosenbalm+Home+in+Damascus2.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I love it when I'm blessed with a special encounter like that!Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-43402220209393723002010-05-28T13:10:00.005-04:002010-05-28T16:36:46.947-04:00Decoration Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju2TnfT7WiJfBgF3kUu4osiPjnQSgFNkn0PCKLxhT0q7VH9s9T1WqFpcXmPZ-AoXXfQaWL4c8GVT-xjqQ2x65DtmIOu_2QJ3BG9EtAWGhEka_yoKKZ96dUrDIJ3I2TfKUlvg6gtYqJ4do/s1600/Perry+Webb.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476376501515919522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju2TnfT7WiJfBgF3kUu4osiPjnQSgFNkn0PCKLxhT0q7VH9s9T1WqFpcXmPZ-AoXXfQaWL4c8GVT-xjqQ2x65DtmIOu_2QJ3BG9EtAWGhEka_yoKKZ96dUrDIJ3I2TfKUlvg6gtYqJ4do/s320/Perry+Webb.jpg" /></a> Memorial Day makes me nostaligic for Decoration Day trips, when I visited various cemeteries as a child with my parents. Having allergies, I well remember riding in the car with jars and vases of wild rose cuttings, "pineys" (or peonies), mock orange, and baseball-sized snowball bush flower heads. But that was just the beginning.<br /><br /><div>Those days were times of reconnecting and reflecting as we walked among the headstones, careful not to step on graves. My aunts and uncles and cousins would be there, along with lots of folks I didn't know. However, we all shared ties to those buried beneath the dirt, those who had done the same thing in their lifetimes and had honored the memory of their loved ones.</div><br /><div>The events I remember best are those at the Mize-Thomas Cemetery on Wilhite Creek, off Jones Cove Road in Sevier County, TN. I still thrill at the thought of all the mountain voices echoing off the surrounding hills, singing hymns of old. We'd have "dinner on the ground," and it was the equivalent of a family reunion, complete with stack cake. And always, ALWAYS, someone would eventually tell the story of the first burial in that graveyard.<a href="http://thereadonwnc.ning.com/forum/topics/decoration-day-in-the"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 236px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476377887964596578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJCv-8QdOKHoqQhOFUPlFtdW1SWZ0pweqEypuPlkJ13mZcMSqhWUXtn7HuFL-FYJxMHqc2FpzpSTY02XYhan42YQG1eibXw5U4NayeHbWUS-o4udhP_aIVMA7b1aKONi76nQmOX5zX4tw/s320/DecorationDayintheMountains250px.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>In the above photo you can see just the edge of the stacked stones that still stand where a family traveling through by wagon left their little girl. The rocks were intended to not only mark the spot but to keep wild animals from digging it up as well. Nobody knows the name, but community members continue to leave flowers there each year.</div><br /><div>I recently had the privilege of hearing the Jabbours share about their book detailing Decoration Day traditions, and I was fascinated by the many variations they discovered in their research. The days at each cemetery were special, and they were many, as we visited locations in Sevier, Knox, Union, and Grainger Counties.</div>Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-9911981779108035132009-11-14T23:02:00.001-05:002009-11-14T23:02:00.442-05:00Dalton and Dicie<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhouH-8TdeeyFHCb-ECM63zhVncoNqMjRUqzolN6tZZBuC6B07UWpfhwDYVTJDzHM_0w8FfZRAe9u5L0C4GAN7JRgsQ8X6N8Bpg-cBbYHKYc2QESFbd7Gzm4q3oLgtMoVhIRJ4O5Jj5oCY/s1600-h/CCF11132009_00001.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 212px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403807322617380226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhouH-8TdeeyFHCb-ECM63zhVncoNqMjRUqzolN6tZZBuC6B07UWpfhwDYVTJDzHM_0w8FfZRAe9u5L0C4GAN7JRgsQ8X6N8Bpg-cBbYHKYc2QESFbd7Gzm4q3oLgtMoVhIRJ4O5Jj5oCY/s320/CCF11132009_00001.jpg" /></a> This photo shows two of my grandfather Jesse James Loveday's siblings, Dicie (right) and Dalton (seated). When I obtained this photo, I was told that the other woman (left) was one of Dalton's girlfriends, and another source told me that her name was Queenie Williams. I love the hats!<br /><div></div><br /><div>The full list of children born to Eli and Callie (Spurgeon) Loveday were: Dalton Doyle (married Hettie ??), Lloyd Lawton (married Deama Ball), Jesse James (married Josie Oakley), Ada (married Kurtis Hurst), Dicie (married Horace Kelly), Etter (married Pinkney Ball, Deama's brother), Savannah Georgia (Ruben Thomas, then Oiver Duffy), Winnie Pearl (married John Justus), and Sally (married Allen Kelly, cousin of Horace).</div>Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-6784623022603545592009-11-13T22:16:00.006-05:002009-11-13T23:01:46.495-05:00In-Laws and Outlaws<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeeFWKS32QC9LqajnymMm5bBZ0gnhx5wVCtGhzWe1bmqYY9cuwSnO6p72fFZZuyRkp2IYvTWIGzaVTh0bcEH32l2wZJ0C6Y0P21eAb9TPnk14fAdqoMwQd8F3Mqeae9RLUcxuj0wcPoEA/s1600-h/CCF11132009_00000.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 218px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403804304413910114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeeFWKS32QC9LqajnymMm5bBZ0gnhx5wVCtGhzWe1bmqYY9cuwSnO6p72fFZZuyRkp2IYvTWIGzaVTh0bcEH32l2wZJ0C6Y0P21eAb9TPnk14fAdqoMwQd8F3Mqeae9RLUcxuj0wcPoEA/s320/CCF11132009_00000.jpg" /></a>Through this blog I recently connected with yet another distant cousin, whose grandfather Horace Kelly (right) is shown here with my own grandfather Jesse James Loveday (left). Horace married Jesse's sister Dicie (see <a href="http://passedandpresence.blogspot.com/2008/08/visit-with-aunt-dicie-loveday-kelly.html">Visit with Aunt Dicie</a>), making them brothers-in-law.<br /><br /><div><div>I've always found it interesting that my grandfather was named for a Confederate outlaw. Even though Sevier County was a predominantly Unionist area, there IS a legend that the infamous Jesse James came through Sevier County and performed one of his acts of unorthodox generosity as a member of the Knights of the Golden Circle. But of course, tales like that exist in LOTS of places. </div></div>Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-23103982666733089222009-09-06T21:40:00.004-04:002009-09-06T22:46:47.006-04:00Greater IdentificationOne of the reasons I enjoy genealogy so much is because of the joys shared with family in the process, and it's almost always an adventure! Even though the internet and resources like Ancestry.com can make research a little easier, they're no substitute for visiting places and people.<br /><div>While spending time with Varnell and his wife Eileen, I not only had a meaningful visit but learned a lot as well. He, too, has been compiling family information, and there among his photos was one similar to another one of folks I've been trying to identify!</div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOx2JZMMf2elt8oPmtb999MGMlr1ywtFRALgTqdKEktp3muFXJrVt0pe1RMDFSWa84b-Hkwu1-U-mPhnj2ABhXotKOkpOQ2qL-Yt6URRREo0UuoHZxbStfyA63H1NMvuh5cdCg8qY8bY/s1600-h/Unknown+people.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378537275095577746" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOx2JZMMf2elt8oPmtb999MGMlr1ywtFRALgTqdKEktp3muFXJrVt0pe1RMDFSWa84b-Hkwu1-U-mPhnj2ABhXotKOkpOQ2qL-Yt6URRREo0UuoHZxbStfyA63H1NMvuh5cdCg8qY8bY/s320/Unknown+people.jpg" border="0" /></a>Although my version has more individuals in it, all of the ones in Varnell's have names. The two photos were obviously made on the same day in the same location, and they all evidently have connections to the Rucker family. Here is what I learned: (standing, left to right) young boy, Vada, man, Rosa, Landon, woman, man, Mossie, Barton, woman, Leonard, and Simeon; (seated, left to right) woman, little girl, older gentleman, little girl, Ada, Emeline Nicely, <a href="http://passedandpresence.blogspot.com/2008/09/rucker-family.html">Aaron DeWitt Rucker</a>, and Mary Jane Acuff Rucker. DeWitt and Mary are the parents of all the individuals with names listed here, except for Emeline Nicely, who is Mary's mother. Aaron DeWitt Rucker, was my great granmother Mary Isabell Rucker Hopson's brother.</div><div> </div><div>As I've mentioned before, I enjoy the details of such photos. Click on the picture, zoom in, and see all the things hanging on the porch wall!</div><div> </div><div> </div>Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-70729549401855648022009-09-06T00:14:00.012-04:002009-09-06T21:39:53.977-04:00Windows on the Past<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxGWIsnSOyCEh_NF9o-e4BvI-IvlVyeM-C5ngHUpEqHM8QOJ02th0NR3LiR8wdWhkggk0rJy1u8Iyh2hdUVUvAhUp7KL2HtzuOz0T49PO0N85ZdsZQ3M2LmbUUq_E9LrbhQi3yCMFnlM/s1600-h/IMG_4716.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378211044350278834" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 301px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 220px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxGWIsnSOyCEh_NF9o-e4BvI-IvlVyeM-C5ngHUpEqHM8QOJ02th0NR3LiR8wdWhkggk0rJy1u8Iyh2hdUVUvAhUp7KL2HtzuOz0T49PO0N85ZdsZQ3M2LmbUUq_E9LrbhQi3yCMFnlM/s320/IMG_4716.JPG" border="0" /></a>Unbelievable!<br /><br />As a result of recently reconnecting with my mother's first cousin Varnell, we traveled back into the country today. Way back. In fact, before lunch, we'd stepped back a couple hundred years into a house built in 1812.<br /><br />Just driving toward Luttrell made me cry, because I was flooded with the emotion of missing my mother and grandmother. Stopping at the cemetery where I'd taken my grandmother many years before to visit the unmarked graves of her little baby boys made me sob. However, seeing Varnell and Eileen's old log cabin retreat brought smiles, and exchanging photos and family history information was a joy.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUVnhEio5JCkUZ5kGAF7OkIq8mDfhfg_9r3qIoUfZEmjpYDBHte2p3h_zYmJncy4Fmm3_MPOAuCgq8JsuehUOAAak4PEY0-teeYQe5TvcGPpTN1DIJH-UvtqGgZ4hRi90LuCGzbh2_zMo/s1600-h/Grandparents+Kitts+house.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378211605384834322" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 163px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 123px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUVnhEio5JCkUZ5kGAF7OkIq8mDfhfg_9r3qIoUfZEmjpYDBHte2p3h_zYmJncy4Fmm3_MPOAuCgq8JsuehUOAAak4PEY0-teeYQe5TvcGPpTN1DIJH-UvtqGgZ4hRi90LuCGzbh2_zMo/s320/Grandparents+Kitts+house.jpg" border="0" /></a>The greatest treat, though, began with showing them the photo (circa 1917) of my grandparents (George and Margaret Hopson Kitts), his mother (Eliza Hopson Wolfenbarger), and the sisters' parents (William and Mary Rucker Hopson) at Charlie Fraley's home where they once lived and ran a dairy farm (See "<a href="http://passedandpresence.blogspot.com/2008/10/place-to-live.html">A Place to Live</a>") and telling him that my grandmother had pointed the house out to me just down the road decades ago. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhVLM6FPx82AalUewqlnGnhPB0cLYqlkOLe282dpnEMtAslbjHrfQZsrFXT2ck2EcEMDmDxP_qg48sW1na-9WsSUmuQ9vD0Tlzd5ed7R22UsZ4lipiB-8NFwKL2WE2J5fuS0leQmvRCQ/s1600-h/IMG_4749.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378211055994067682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFhVLM6FPx82AalUewqlnGnhPB0cLYqlkOLe282dpnEMtAslbjHrfQZsrFXT2ck2EcEMDmDxP_qg48sW1na-9WsSUmuQ9vD0Tlzd5ed7R22UsZ4lipiB-8NFwKL2WE2J5fuS0leQmvRCQ/s320/IMG_4749.JPG" border="0" /></a>Varnell then told me it was still standing, and before the morning was over, I knocked on a stranger's door and we were getting zenia seeds from the present resident! The homeowner was as thrilled to get the old photo of her house (I had an extra copy) as we were to tour her home! Oh, to put my hand on the same stair railing where my grandparents and great grandparents had touched it on a daily basis!! What a blessing!!Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-38146749284565419002009-08-25T16:36:00.001-04:002009-08-25T16:36:00.448-04:00Hopson Sisters<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDBBh8Ss0E9Vls_YryPYIKbJCFnT6Y4a2ms174DQP1i0jf9ng1FQGY2kMR4yqqKfvAv6svUzTTZT8SGKJgDMLpsYH46wEwp6DIxsx91m-iciwxQ6HQ04GUEX-B97vDEU5YL1rGrrTz4yM/s1600-h/Hopson+Sisters.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 228px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDBBh8Ss0E9Vls_YryPYIKbJCFnT6Y4a2ms174DQP1i0jf9ng1FQGY2kMR4yqqKfvAv6svUzTTZT8SGKJgDMLpsYH46wEwp6DIxsx91m-iciwxQ6HQ04GUEX-B97vDEU5YL1rGrrTz4yM/s320/Hopson+Sisters.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373274714374219602" border="0" /></a>The passing of my mother's dear cousin Virginia seems like another one of the final links to my parents slipping away from me. She was a beautiful lady, and she and my mother talked almost daily, sometimes SEVERAL times a day, for most of their adult lives. At her funeral, I talked to many relatives I had not seen in years.<br /><br />As sad as such times are, connecting with family is always good, and in these days of electronic communications, sometimes one may then re-connect in more lasting ways after years of absence. Afterward, a family member shared this photo.<br /><br />Virginia's mother Eliza and my mother's mother Margaret were sisters. I had always heard about this sweet picture of the sisters as little girls, but I had never seen it. My grandmother, on the left, was born in 1900, several years after their only other sibling, Greenlee.Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-3961971029391369872009-08-24T18:00:00.001-04:002009-10-29T10:52:26.811-04:00Kodak Underwoods<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJLOW9M5B7Uj3Vg6gOdE7EMxTM9e5OxmAB4iOHN4NlfWRH-cocG4K45CDz9QsFtdWJPCs8N7NCu6b7xJScDetrQCafnDRClosS-RtSaz5Oz6Guz6p1_JWF8hhMiRFziih2ia9ghg72Yo/s1600-h/IMG_4030.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373253198014143746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmJLOW9M5B7Uj3Vg6gOdE7EMxTM9e5OxmAB4iOHN4NlfWRH-cocG4K45CDz9QsFtdWJPCs8N7NCu6b7xJScDetrQCafnDRClosS-RtSaz5Oz6Guz6p1_JWF8hhMiRFziih2ia9ghg72Yo/s320/IMG_4030.JPG" /></a>In June of this year, I took two sisters in search of their Sevier County roots. It was a great day of memorable encounters and pleasant surprises, as I showed them the location of several cemeteries where their Trotter, Robertson, and Emmert ancestors were buried. We even found some of the old homeplaces, and to their delight, we were invited by their distant cousin to tour their great grandfather's Century Farm house that I learned bore the handiwork of 1800s famed wood master craftsman Louis Buckner. What incredible work! The stairs in that 100+ year old home didn't make a squeak!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTDqZyeo9lCdXSbLznx7WUNsmtPTL2sOdqi3NOmBz4hpLS23XHakd31JRRhD9kbFG8d4cQpLSAMyXnNY_036SO-un9_xXLBI2kfVU6VwlspLApB8ysQ4hn4zQcvfzIDOPDVD1IkSJJFyU/s1600-h/IMG_4040.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 134px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 101px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373253190273632338" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTDqZyeo9lCdXSbLznx7WUNsmtPTL2sOdqi3NOmBz4hpLS23XHakd31JRRhD9kbFG8d4cQpLSAMyXnNY_036SO-un9_xXLBI2kfVU6VwlspLApB8ysQ4hn4zQcvfzIDOPDVD1IkSJJFyU/s320/IMG_4040.JPG" /></a>At the end of an already perfect day, we decided on a whim to see whether we could find the graves of their Underwood ancestors, too. We had a map. We even had directions. We actually stopped and asked several folks along the way where it was. However, locating the John Thomas Underwood cemetery in Kodak took a while.<br />In the process, we met Alex Johnson who recently bought the Stella Underwood homeplace, which had served several generations of Underwoods. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_evJq_Y4Nb-vBbdCelwQiYCaiiO2P6mT7vcu9RhNjNx9sedCWbouS1dHG0me9PgPlZNV_BWq4kpW_xY_kqmHeF0i4s4lrBgyC6_S3lU6q50X9zjfUaSj4LSTqa2IU141CXze-SWhDOr8/s1600-h/IMG_4038.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 105px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 78px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373253179248611746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_evJq_Y4Nb-vBbdCelwQiYCaiiO2P6mT7vcu9RhNjNx9sedCWbouS1dHG0me9PgPlZNV_BWq4kpW_xY_kqmHeF0i4s4lrBgyC6_S3lU6q50X9zjfUaSj4LSTqa2IU141CXze-SWhDOr8/s320/IMG_4038.JPG" /></a>He pointed to the weedy top of a hill in a nearby cow pasture, so we climbed a fence and trudged to victory as the sun went down. Although the Underwoods are not in my personal direct line, I have a few cousins whose lineage traces back to those same graves.<br /><br />You can read about Louise Buckner, the Underwoods, and other great stories of area history in the 1994 <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Sevier County, Tennessee, and Its Heritage. </span>In fact, I encourage you to contribute your own Sevier County family stories to the NEW volume presently being compiled for publication. See: <a href="http://www.county-heritage.com/tn/sevier/overview.php">http://www.county-heritage.com/tn/sevier/overview.php</a> or visit the <a href="http://www.sevierlibrary.org/NewGen/Homepage.htm">Sevier County History Center</a> for more information.Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-88074014214401656872009-07-07T20:15:00.006-04:002009-07-07T22:22:49.042-04:00A Mystery Solved!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-xLCEHudr3jMuU17uS44od5Oe0Iv2iwmeA5VanPMHRoN4Vfw510uan1_lL__sUpMtuY0K7Idt9TeusQtEpvsG6WrBMkYJdWvoS83W0GiuOB0lfU3vFYuhr1zGYKhshEj8YFxUPaGujI/s1600-h/William+Mary+Hopson+his+parents.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355882941512001682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 246px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja-xLCEHudr3jMuU17uS44od5Oe0Iv2iwmeA5VanPMHRoN4Vfw510uan1_lL__sUpMtuY0K7Idt9TeusQtEpvsG6WrBMkYJdWvoS83W0GiuOB0lfU3vFYuhr1zGYKhshEj8YFxUPaGujI/s320/William+Mary+Hopson+his+parents.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Finally.</div><br /><div></div><div>Sometimes I can answer my own questions!</div><br /><div>While rummaging through a box of old high school stuff, I came across an envelope with a letter written in 1979 by my Great Aunt Eliza (Hopson) Wolfenbarger. Lo and behold, it contains the information related to the photo I've wondered about for so long. Evidently, at one time I knew the identities of all the people in the photo.</div><br /><div></div><div>As stated in my earlier post, the standing couple is William Harrell Hopson and Mary Isabell (Rucker) Hopson, who married in 1883. The letter says that their first child was Preston Greenlee Hopson, born March 21, 1888. He is the baby in the 1888 tin type, which Aunt Eliza had tinted when she had the additional prints made. A second son, Samuel Hopson, was born and died in 1889 at nine months of age.</div><br /><div></div><div>The seated couple is Thomas Dalton, stepfather of Mary R. Hopson, and his wife (Mary's mother) Minerva. Aunt Eliza says, "Minerva was a Jordan; her mother was a Harvey." This also means that the couple in the other tin type are not this same pair.</div><br /><div></div><div>She also says, "Samuel Rucker never had his picture made; said it was a sin. He had a heart attack and passed away." See related post for the story of his death.</div><br /><div></div><div>At the bottom of the note, Aunt Eliza admonishes me, "Put this in the frame behind the picture." I should have listened to her!</div>Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-51016926575133664612009-06-15T21:24:00.009-04:002009-06-18T09:28:07.235-04:00More Cherokee Adventures<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXatl6Y21XmPuKtG-l2XP67V-YMibSizM0sOMCfw7rQWd1ZNyi2fUnu6CqLZso8dM3wbx-e83NaqUA4YoXvX99lAuZEwZmbqW_4jJZQD_Sx274BSfVek8cECdMdsTparXz6m3ro52LQ1I/s1600-h/IMG_4263.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348108202640144258" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXatl6Y21XmPuKtG-l2XP67V-YMibSizM0sOMCfw7rQWd1ZNyi2fUnu6CqLZso8dM3wbx-e83NaqUA4YoXvX99lAuZEwZmbqW_4jJZQD_Sx274BSfVek8cECdMdsTparXz6m3ro52LQ1I/s320/IMG_4263.JPG" border="0" /></a> As I've continued to learn more about the Cherokee, I recently made another trip to the Qualla Boundary in North Carolina. I talked to some folks about the Huskey and Bradley families and spent time with the collections there. <p>We came back via the Blue Ridge Parkway, where I contemplated more of the sacred sites, like Judaculla Courthouse shown here. The <a href="http://www.cherokeeheritagetrails.org/"><em>Cherokee Heritage Trails Guidebook</em></a>, by Barbara R. Duncan and Brett H. Riggs, is a helpful source of information. To see my photos and notes of related Cherokee sites, <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/MtnLadyInTN/CherokeeSitesAlongTheBlueRidgeParkway?feat=directlink">click here</a>.</p>Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-86615276977817443532009-04-16T00:00:00.007-04:002009-04-19T22:43:54.884-04:00Loveday Grave Markers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiigCx6b2kBJ-62LUXjhREdLdPbQujroFnxEvn3hB3nYOMWTpt4bxIFpL4QFcO7DARXU-iRHT1WDpde5N8fvQdm0z07BiVxm4rLFn_pNCG652bcP1zHiGMA77wTZ0UfNDu96w_iKC-uP5k/s1600-h/Loveday+Kerr+Cemetery.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiigCx6b2kBJ-62LUXjhREdLdPbQujroFnxEvn3hB3nYOMWTpt4bxIFpL4QFcO7DARXU-iRHT1WDpde5N8fvQdm0z07BiVxm4rLFn_pNCG652bcP1zHiGMA77wTZ0UfNDu96w_iKC-uP5k/s320/Loveday+Kerr+Cemetery.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325137853695981010" border="0" /></a>Last fall I took my cousin George Brooks and his wife Gail on a trip to visit Sevier County cemeteries where generations of Lovedays are buried. We spent the day taking photos of the markers, and with George and Gail's deeply appreciated contributions, I'm sharing them here. Perhaps someone who lives out of the area might like a look at some of them.<br /><br />These grave stones are from the Fair Garden, Kear-Loveday, Stafford, and Walnut Grove cemeteries, and they include some of the oldest Loveday markers in the county. <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/MtnLadyInTN/LovedayMarkers#">Click here to view the markers.</a><br /><br />(When my father would drive us down Jones Cove Road, he would chuckle and ask whether we remembered the name of the hilltop shown in the background of this view of the Kear-Loveday Cemetery. It was known to him as "Granny's Butt.")Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-77319278283268941622009-01-20T18:13:00.000-05:002009-01-20T18:13:01.260-05:00Collins: The Melungeon Connection<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh00JNOUOV_5AknFTNXDjjxZ7UQnkca0CqWFfXlSoCGP0ytYJD6BpXln9thhrpp4UdsoEZZInu9zYPRmGI6zpOseBHAFDg34afkoLZ20AUayPS9EzpzSdsTjk9-i1108IDRa9FWgVpOPkk/s1600-h/Norman&SonjaCollins.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh00JNOUOV_5AknFTNXDjjxZ7UQnkca0CqWFfXlSoCGP0ytYJD6BpXln9thhrpp4UdsoEZZInu9zYPRmGI6zpOseBHAFDg34afkoLZ20AUayPS9EzpzSdsTjk9-i1108IDRa9FWgVpOPkk/s320/Norman&SonjaCollins.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292813688219887074" border="0" /></a>Connecting with kin is just one of the blessings of exploring a family tree. In researching my mother's Kitts line, I was introduced to Norman and Sonja Collins (pictured right), who are my distant cousins and are serious genealogists.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0jX10ZjSJbPtxdO4QKLlPeC-wsggSrhlmm_1J0so9fxOFSTQgFjKVrPCHegEyprR8cO9zpfNGRSNN_wLKQ3ZwKpi69XXUL9GV_fcdL67tbQJzfV27TFdAqtkWuAknStHDCXk9kPw4CrI/s1600-h/TomLee&ClarissaCollins.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0jX10ZjSJbPtxdO4QKLlPeC-wsggSrhlmm_1J0so9fxOFSTQgFjKVrPCHegEyprR8cO9zpfNGRSNN_wLKQ3ZwKpi69XXUL9GV_fcdL67tbQJzfV27TFdAqtkWuAknStHDCXk9kPw4CrI/s320/TomLee&ClarissaCollins.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292813973465038354" border="0" /></a>My maternal grandfather George Washington Kitts' mother was Nellie Lucinda Collins, daughter of Aaron Collins. Norman's grandmother Clarissa was Aaron's niece, and she also married a Collins, her first cousin Tom Lee Collins. Tom Lee and Clarissa Collins are pictured left.Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-44691344522248110822009-01-19T17:15:00.001-05:002009-06-16T21:57:55.033-04:00Judaculla Rock<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj32Ja66QDQGY_kj1dIPNaIAeM2FOseryaU1IZ0-PrD-qtOzCIh1YSP_tpXjIuXm3-wQGI-nb9aeNyYLsALYX7shcQbuzDSW1xl4iXETwFkgN_lau1ePGqkA_S5Bc4zUK8Kj5rGuwvn9Gs/s1600-h/Judaculla+Rock.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292769349734605746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj32Ja66QDQGY_kj1dIPNaIAeM2FOseryaU1IZ0-PrD-qtOzCIh1YSP_tpXjIuXm3-wQGI-nb9aeNyYLsALYX7shcQbuzDSW1xl4iXETwFkgN_lau1ePGqkA_S5Bc4zUK8Kj5rGuwvn9Gs/s320/Judaculla+Rock.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />For many of us, our elusive Cherokee ties are intriguing, and I'm enjoying learning more about the history and ways. While searching for sacred Cherokee sites, I visited the mysterious Judaculla Rock, a large sandstone inscribed with various symbols and images.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61-oBWPNnciYbmz8QOFwWC32A_tn2KOjQxk50e3w04WzuONt35ZVK-puTpNvdQJmTxgcEA4s_lYFlLkAidSSZwG-U1fekO5BUKI2hBjZL3Oyuyo4Bf1t8eCO11SUukz4u3rwNsPoFs60/s1600-h/Judaculla+Rock+Key.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292769665665507490" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 234px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj61-oBWPNnciYbmz8QOFwWC32A_tn2KOjQxk50e3w04WzuONt35ZVK-puTpNvdQJmTxgcEA4s_lYFlLkAidSSZwG-U1fekO5BUKI2hBjZL3Oyuyo4Bf1t8eCO11SUukz4u3rwNsPoFs60/s320/Judaculla+Rock+Key.jpg" border="0" /></a>According to Cherokee legend, Judaculla, the slant-eyed giant, leaped from his lofty mountain home on Tennessee Bald and scratched the rock as he landed. Rocks with similar carvings can be found in other Cherokee places, such as Georgia, and all of them are estimated to be hundreds and hundreds of years old.Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-45611996318239752622009-01-18T20:47:00.002-05:002009-08-23T14:50:49.029-04:00Dow Oakley<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha1c8xnMM0mX1S-JNPG6l0yELLfKe5B3neLQodDJr1QxS9DMW77SkI-pCkfHsQlRG6bjIINPtB2fuOenhkEP2fKmK-6d03H8BlfgYrgZfpNXXFj3zfG6dxUU3XRAFZ1oI724Sh1yRb_WQ/s1600-h/DowOakley.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha1c8xnMM0mX1S-JNPG6l0yELLfKe5B3neLQodDJr1QxS9DMW77SkI-pCkfHsQlRG6bjIINPtB2fuOenhkEP2fKmK-6d03H8BlfgYrgZfpNXXFj3zfG6dxUU3XRAFZ1oI724Sh1yRb_WQ/s320/DowOakley.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292831098082989042" border="0" /></a>One of Henry Coleman Oakley's sons, Dow , left Gatlinburg, Tennessee, before 1900 and went to live near East Bernstadt and London, in Laurel County, Kentucky. Dow's uncle (Henry's brother) Leonard Henderson Oakley, Jr., lived there with his family.<br /><br />Dow is shown here with his wife Bessie.Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-28529694533304119952009-01-18T16:04:00.000-05:002009-01-18T17:15:43.277-05:00Cherokee research adventures<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVTMl-BA5qMGKeGo6RgX301gcnetWHOVK7E-HZ7UDgbo0YtX1aymM0LJ5lBf-D2LEgK0HYw0DrENZ_6Ps16cc2DOuWRDT-znx7WlvNVJGH6BjznO0oHcENCevNbZqTWWRV4DtdMqbXPc/s1600-h/Kituhwa+Sign.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 303px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVTMl-BA5qMGKeGo6RgX301gcnetWHOVK7E-HZ7UDgbo0YtX1aymM0LJ5lBf-D2LEgK0HYw0DrENZ_6Ps16cc2DOuWRDT-znx7WlvNVJGH6BjznO0oHcENCevNbZqTWWRV4DtdMqbXPc/s320/Kituhwa+Sign.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292752147404581618" border="0" /></a>Besides being busy with the holiday activities, I took some time to explore more about Cherokee heritage. I've been reading some really good books about the culture and history, such as G. Keith Parker's <span style="font-style: italic;">Seven Cherokee Myths</span>, and James Mooney's <span style="font-style: italic;">History, Myths, and Sacred Formulas of the Cherokee. </span>I've visited some of the sacred sites and took time to contemplate their significance.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEied52OX-TGTYsmRBQ31_R6cTDpbSLE80trYqaXUpJXFM365_UZESXpY-FoHkINmcELac1uLjQJen0XdaREzL3c6FD6C1ovffy2TEMsZwlJVKwZYlxMgDcOKjOyKLmRJmeBye2PdBwFOCQ/s1600-h/Kituhwa.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEied52OX-TGTYsmRBQ31_R6cTDpbSLE80trYqaXUpJXFM365_UZESXpY-FoHkINmcELac1uLjQJen0XdaREzL3c6FD6C1ovffy2TEMsZwlJVKwZYlxMgDcOKjOyKLmRJmeBye2PdBwFOCQ/s320/Kituhwa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292751474743721330" border="0" /></a>Here, you see Kituhwa, one of the original mother town locations that was lost during the Removal in the late 1830s. The townhouse that held the sacred fire was built upon a 15-20 foot high mound that has been reduced to about six feet, as a result of the years of farming by others. What's left of the mound is the slight green rise visible in front of the wooded hill. This 300 acre river bottom land, which lies along the Tuckaseegee below the towering height of Clingman's Dome, was bought back by the Cherokee in 1996.Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-22132389535459795422008-12-04T18:48:00.000-05:002008-12-04T20:27:44.233-05:00A name is in what?Most often we ask, "What's in a name?" However, while I'm busy trying to get more information together to post on family history, you might want to have some fun asking a different question with this site: <a href="http://www.publicprofiler.org/worldnames">http://www.publicprofiler.org/worldnames</a>, where your may find where the greatest concentration of a particular name is located. After you see the international spread, you may click on a particular country or state or county to find the statistics. Pretty interesting! Be sure to try the various spellings of a name, such as "Rosenbalm" and "Rosenbaum."<br /><br />For instance, the greatest number of Lovedays are located in Australia. In the U.S., Tennessee leads with the most Lovedays. What Tennessee county would you suppose has the most Lovedays?<br /><br />The Loveday name is of Old English orgin, "Leofdaeg," and may be found as far back as the Domesday Book of 1086. It was originally a woman's name, given to those born on the Love Day holiday, when disputes and transgressions were to be forgiven and reconciled. The Love Day is mentioned in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales and Piers Plowman. Loveday is still a common name for women in England, where the surname also prevails.Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-45268945400538517372008-11-12T21:10:00.001-05:002008-11-13T08:44:17.034-05:00Veterans<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8VWJyZ0CMWvrS5YEnzBvw84z0UK5W4UK5s-ixQQq-SWpCiOkVuPcs-enhzn5SZUGra33vQqrNgn8vXg97qn5qjS9HtrIi_qHK2d8pvrVPRWF3ufUHUgBDpv0TCxiJMm8xO-0pw4cCQc/s1600-h/WWII+flag.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267960981879955906" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 183px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF8VWJyZ0CMWvrS5YEnzBvw84z0UK5W4UK5s-ixQQq-SWpCiOkVuPcs-enhzn5SZUGra33vQqrNgn8vXg97qn5qjS9HtrIi_qHK2d8pvrVPRWF3ufUHUgBDpv0TCxiJMm8xO-0pw4cCQc/s320/WWII+flag.jpg" border="0" /></a>As we honor our Veterans this week, I feel it's appropriate to post about an interesting find I had on a research trip. Daddy and I had driven in search of a cemetery off Wilhite, where he remembered attending a funeral as a little boy. I was looking for the graves of my great, great grandparents, but we stumbled across something else.<br /><br />As we turned onto a small lane, we stopped to ask a man in his yard whether he could tell us about any cemeteries on that road. I explained that we were doing a little research on the family tree and mentioned some names. The man, whose last name was Branam, then said he had something I might want to see, and he brought out this flag. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiil2M1x5LqEf0kNHfvH9XD2xDTqOJZKrFlUeRxVKjVIzJ4kmUn_9oD0uKAFSkP0Sx4ACdrOrmgWZLc01AZjq53UnsjmMEDjMcMUbJhwyFfFDt-qFP1XLoM7Mi0v-ru4uDbw0dK_32eZ-I/s1600-h/WWII+flag+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267961457278772274" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 141px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 152px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiil2M1x5LqEf0kNHfvH9XD2xDTqOJZKrFlUeRxVKjVIzJ4kmUn_9oD0uKAFSkP0Sx4ACdrOrmgWZLc01AZjq53UnsjmMEDjMcMUbJhwyFfFDt-qFP1XLoM7Mi0v-ru4uDbw0dK_32eZ-I/s320/WWII+flag+2.jpg" border="0" /></a>He explained that during World War II, Bethany Baptist Church had sewn the names of local soldiers onto the stars. There on the flag was my Uncle Doyle Loveday's name. To this day, I regret not offering to buy the flag, because I honestly think the man was almost suggesting that I might want to do that.<br /><br />Other names include Hurst, Thomas, Webb, Rolen, Williams, Odom, Ball, Blalock, Elidge, and Branam. If you click on the photo, you can see some of the names a little better.Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-33803127896220651712008-11-08T23:19:00.000-05:002008-11-10T20:34:00.521-05:00Speaking of Water Wheels<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROa8zPnDqGB3gKdorsvU2tA79TsiiI2DtEplbnvokm1vNfQeYCrM2FVxrgOQ6mcScpQ1j2a-s8hobqE75Ajz90W_xALluwf5xiaJOX9dvF_FF4Er9xqB8WnX-fSWUAd8iN2N9199JVJo/s1600-h/Doyle's+wheel.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 210px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiROa8zPnDqGB3gKdorsvU2tA79TsiiI2DtEplbnvokm1vNfQeYCrM2FVxrgOQ6mcScpQ1j2a-s8hobqE75Ajz90W_xALluwf5xiaJOX9dvF_FF4Er9xqB8WnX-fSWUAd8iN2N9199JVJo/s320/Doyle's+wheel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266137347835580530" border="0" /></a>My Uncle Doyle Loveday is shown here with his wonderful water wheel he built on his property off Kodak Road. (He is also shown below as a little boy.) His daughter Lois (Loveday) Chesney told me that her dad was a mechanical engineer, "partially educated in the military, and just a natural," who was very knowledgeable about mechanical things. Among other things throughout his life, he worked as an auto mechanic and driver with Lewis Bus Lines and with Knoxville Construction Company (now APAC) as supervisor for the heavy equipment that was used on building the local interstate highways.<br /><br />Building the water wheel was a dream of his, so before he retired, he had a pond dug. He built the wheel all by himself during the summer of 1989 and designed it so that the overflow run off from the pond would allow water to drip onto the wheel to make it turn. He put a swing beside it, and the site became a special place for dreaming and reflection. The family cherishes this monument of his work, and his granddaughter Denise held her wedding at the site this past September.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ICYZnQThflKjsdfS9oex9sjmpPh0861jYmTSuxe0zU4EDV642pxqz88LFmWr01Yfw_MRbyqc40ad9An1aRROe68gb4OBrHNDTUkWQ4HpCryGkF0CAGIPVtrSIR15E3CK5U4gJyOCWAw/s1600-h/Doyle+as+Toddler.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ICYZnQThflKjsdfS9oex9sjmpPh0861jYmTSuxe0zU4EDV642pxqz88LFmWr01Yfw_MRbyqc40ad9An1aRROe68gb4OBrHNDTUkWQ4HpCryGkF0CAGIPVtrSIR15E3CK5U4gJyOCWAw/s320/Doyle+as+Toddler.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266822065235029666" border="0" /></a>Uncle Doyle went with me on several "hunting trips" for family information in Sevier County over the years, and I have a precious recording of him telling about family history. I visited his water wheel several days ago and couldn't help but touch it to make it turn. It is so perfectly balanced, that even today I believe you could just blow on it and make it spin!Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-24721627934806520952008-11-07T22:24:00.002-05:002009-03-14T23:51:13.314-04:00Tuckahoe<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArfYC4N74iNmRx_uoY_Ds2WdvXRK50DWpq49Uu3nTJXmL3-nDcjRTGLGkAzwVBIbEzDIzcZNLADhf1mwlIiWuNJv2OU8OGjSBUHg4CZZ9xnbJgk7MIDFXbeQsKbPjhMM8itPBUeZ-DYc/s1600-h/Tuckahoe+River+Sign.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiArfYC4N74iNmRx_uoY_Ds2WdvXRK50DWpq49Uu3nTJXmL3-nDcjRTGLGkAzwVBIbEzDIzcZNLADhf1mwlIiWuNJv2OU8OGjSBUHg4CZZ9xnbJgk7MIDFXbeQsKbPjhMM8itPBUeZ-DYc/s320/Tuckahoe+River+Sign.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266794506667186434" border="0" /></a>"Tuckahoe" is a Native American word for the large, truffle-like fungus that grew in the rich, moist soil along waterways, as well as for "tubers" like Indian Turnips. From those edible "bulbs," the Cherokees and others got starch to make their bread.<br /><br />I am amazed that my Loveday ancestors from the 1700s lived along the Tuckahoe in Talbot County, Maryland, and then my Loveday grandparents coincidently lived along the Tuckahoe in Knox County, Tennessee!<br /><br />Cousin Guy Merritt shares that all of our Tuckahoe and Thorn Grove area was once owned by the Derioux family. Peter Derioux was next in line to be the King of France, but when the French Revolution beheaded the king and his wife, Peter decided he should leave. He lived across the road from Thomas Jefferson, and Peter's grandson, also named Peter, came to East Tennessee, where he was a doctor in Dandridge. He owned many acres, and local families, including the Cokers, married into the Derioux holdings.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu4azCcYaqUPPvQ787nLZS0cOIi7aIoX691VBu2JvAkV7aiP_qKdXVyphBUia6OPFl4_7ici0kcFExkzNbCRVEmU9DzG0rstTm3Tty8KvvMIb5ULIe3ovpPjlEBaqiuUIZfpzh0LqSS4c/s1600-h/Tuckahoe+Mill.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu4azCcYaqUPPvQ787nLZS0cOIi7aIoX691VBu2JvAkV7aiP_qKdXVyphBUia6OPFl4_7ici0kcFExkzNbCRVEmU9DzG0rstTm3Tty8KvvMIb5ULIe3ovpPjlEBaqiuUIZfpzh0LqSS4c/s320/Tuckahoe+Mill.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266134895607765890" border="0" /></a>The Coker/Tuckahoe Mill stood just below the location of our grandparents' home place and was run by Guy's great grandfather William Lafayette Merritt. Mr. Merritt first ran a mill in Wear's Valley for Ahas Bryan and then moved to Newport to run the mill downtown there before eventually moving to Tuckahoe to run the one pictured here.Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-73698992279345454412008-11-02T17:00:00.000-05:002008-11-02T21:49:32.268-05:00Family Trees: The Effects of Decades<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCrjFHfR3NSztPOWzr_bo4JzS91GTWTB4w78B1C-0xf5aZUQ0U68rAPSVMX5NMsRBVrBrLGXXkgi8QPGKYH8WXtprHmHkxIJbAP8Z9Uw-AkwUzsB4HxoJqlBp-yM5c1e_zUKF6xQ5yqKk/s1600-h/IMG_2616.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCrjFHfR3NSztPOWzr_bo4JzS91GTWTB4w78B1C-0xf5aZUQ0U68rAPSVMX5NMsRBVrBrLGXXkgi8QPGKYH8WXtprHmHkxIJbAP8Z9Uw-AkwUzsB4HxoJqlBp-yM5c1e_zUKF6xQ5yqKk/s320/IMG_2616.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264204726543211314" border="0" /></a>Lots of folks talk about their family tree, but our Lovedays have family TREES!<br /><br />Throughout the years at my Loveday grandparents' home at Tuckahoe, many of us roamed the woods and left our marks on the trees there. (Thanks, Cousin Mike Loveday, for reminding me that they are BEECH trees!) Scattered along the hills and stream beds are names, initials, dates, and drawings from several generations, and they include my aunts, uncles, cousins, and their offspring, as well as some loves that have come and gone! The oldest ones I've seen are from the 1950s, when the land was bought. My particular line of carved initials I've found includes my dad's, brother's, nephew's, son's, and my own. Daddy carved mine when I was nine.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGuxJ61BFHXMgUpnNPUywnQDTU6xhvzYYxDwbGOzi0Nu0KTnpDrWCHVkWc0eVHLzJYts8ntSftgg4rwZTvEsI9BJ9KCU4r52kcwk6tHP6vWFFwJpc1Q-jmKhY13GKyLybbgDOQQjXFQpc/s1600-h/KIMBO80.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 119px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGuxJ61BFHXMgUpnNPUywnQDTU6xhvzYYxDwbGOzi0Nu0KTnpDrWCHVkWc0eVHLzJYts8ntSftgg4rwZTvEsI9BJ9KCU4r52kcwk6tHP6vWFFwJpc1Q-jmKhY13GKyLybbgDOQQjXFQpc/s320/KIMBO80.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264210862675090962" border="0" /></a>In the 1980s, I went back into the woods and took some black and white photos of the trees I could find.<br /><br />After our recent reunion (11/1/08), a few of us went back to the woods again at the old home place, and I took more photos. (Thanks one more time, Cousin George Brooks, for being my hiking buddy AND for keeping me from sliding off the ridge into the creek!!)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE2vkdqw8uoyyIcIFNQMbiOsRjn9KWcTJ0gSSfm392W3ZVwxx5pRpXCmClLlubpDdwc8bP-N1ffJKM1DFR218rWN2p7s0ncXfx_tof_h4XzX_nAwP3Xe6QB12xCllxHJ33oyWr0petan0/s1600-h/Kimbo+JEL.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE2vkdqw8uoyyIcIFNQMbiOsRjn9KWcTJ0gSSfm392W3ZVwxx5pRpXCmClLlubpDdwc8bP-N1ffJKM1DFR218rWN2p7s0ncXfx_tof_h4XzX_nAwP3Xe6QB12xCllxHJ33oyWr0petan0/s320/Kimbo+JEL.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264211246712550962" border="0" /></a>While I was busy hunting old carvings, my husband Don secretly carved the initials (HB) of my new grandson. He didn't tell me what he had done until long after we had left the woods. What a special gift to me! Now I can take my grandson there some day and find it!! <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/MtnLadyInTN/FamilyTrees#">See here to possibly find your tree.</a>Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-24098630220003863772008-11-02T15:58:00.000-05:002008-11-02T16:42:40.778-05:00We Still Do<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHmrwUQsQ92syvYnw6xg-UHxATmX3LcgvOPW9QYSMcw3dauyhrGmieSl4AB4QFqoYXg2j6ck86kzBMr_J6sHdYLn0V-VU79k77xC3vNzOpq208x34RkrJLgB-9rxYrVkFRiDBRHwMs2c/s1600-h/IMG_2575.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 172px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHmrwUQsQ92syvYnw6xg-UHxATmX3LcgvOPW9QYSMcw3dauyhrGmieSl4AB4QFqoYXg2j6ck86kzBMr_J6sHdYLn0V-VU79k77xC3vNzOpq208x34RkrJLgB-9rxYrVkFRiDBRHwMs2c/s320/IMG_2575.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264173975524680930" border="0" /></a>What was I saying about family, food, and fellowship? A week ago my cousin Ginger (Farmer) Evans woke up with an intent to get us all together for a Loveday reunion. How many kin can you herd in a week? I was amazed yesterday that we managed to have about 60 in attendance. The food was excellent, and the fellowship was even better! So good to see aunts, uncles, and cousins to the first, second, and third degree!<br /><br />Can anybody total how many family members come from the Jesse and Jocie (Oakley) Loveday family line? They would be so proud!Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6411454331835534307.post-38182009276615411012008-10-28T22:59:00.000-04:002008-10-28T22:59:00.662-04:00My Grandmother: Josie Oakley Loveday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf-Yyj9a70mB2Q8hG31h4HDH_SjvvKK3gOMFgp_z-t0hPTT2XVzfuc3NgHo9l95Pa65-MinM9I3FclWlvTdugruolFhmZy4rxGXUCNDYQg88LxZRtH5v8lGtZKowXxpRpYSoiz8yOgfbQ/s1600-h/Josie+%26+Alma.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf-Yyj9a70mB2Q8hG31h4HDH_SjvvKK3gOMFgp_z-t0hPTT2XVzfuc3NgHo9l95Pa65-MinM9I3FclWlvTdugruolFhmZy4rxGXUCNDYQg88LxZRtH5v8lGtZKowXxpRpYSoiz8yOgfbQ/s320/Josie+%26+Alma.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260921488800883106" border="0" /></a>Josie (Oakley) Loveday always seemed to me to be a very quiet woman. When we would visit her home after my grandfather died, I would wait for as long as I felt was just long enough to be respectful, and then I would ask if we could go for a walk in the woods.<br /><br />There my grandmother would show me the wildflowers, plants, and trees, and tell me their names and their uses. She would break the twigs, crush the leaves, pull up the roots and have me taste, feel or smell them accordingly. What wondrous things things she knew! I wish I could remember now all she said and showed me.<br /><br />My cousin Guy Merritt talks about what a great dominoes player she was and the deep conversations he would have with her. I missed all that, but I have no doubt about her intelligence and wisdom. I believe it was those intimate woods experiences that partly helped shape my own love for nature.<br /><br />Mamaw is shown here at about age 29 with her daughter Alma, Guy's mother.Jannihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03285705137084382714noreply@blogger.com0