Speaking of Unique History: Melungeon Roots

I never knew my mother to do any creative writing, but I found a few note pages she wrote with the following story, which is obviously based on her personal memories and questions:

"As she drove up the narrow valley road, the blue, blue sky enhanced the floating cotton puffs of clouds as they drifted over the mountain to her right. The mountain, Clinch by name, stretched out as far as she could see in either direction. A spiral of smoke drifted up above the ridge a distance in front of her. Shortly, a train came into view on the tracks that paralleled the road. Her mind wandered back to her childhood when the engineer gave a toot on the whistle and waved to her and her brothers and sister. They often played in the strip of land between the road and the railroad tracks in front of their home, romping in the lush green grass and clover. Smiling to herself, she wondered how far along the track the chains of clover she and her brother and sister made would stretch. Would they stretch from the little town or hamlet that nestled on the valley floor, practically at the foot of the mountains, to the little community of Powder Springs (She mused, "Wonder where the name came from?") on further up the valley, and also nestled at the base of the mountain, where her paternal grandfather lived in a little three room cabin? Reveling in thoughts of those long, gone days, she could still see her grandfather, sitting outside the cabin, his twine-bottomed chair against the wall, strumming on his banjo. She remembered he always, even in summer, wore a hat. Wishing she had a photo of that scene, she dwelt on the image, visioning clearly the white mustache, flowing white beard, the suspendered pants, and crumpled shirt. He lived there with three grown sons until they married, then he was alone. Her mother always cooked a big dinner for them as they spent a Sunday with her grandfather. Grandpa, as he was lovingly called, would go out to the smoke house and cut a big hunk out of a home-cured ham. The thoughts of the delicious, tasty, ham made her mouth water. Then she was brought back to reality, a constriction in her throat. Yearning to know more about her ancestry, she wa heading to the courthouse of a county across the mountains. Not too far, as the crow flies, from the county seat lived the Melungeons -- those tall, dark-skinned mysterious people. There were many theories as to their origin. She was sure they were her people. Her dad was tall and dark-skinned, high cheek-boned and his mother was of a family same as one of the Melungeons. The name went back as far as anyone knew or heard."

Because I had begun my research focused on my father's line and never seemed to finish, it was many years before I began to work on her family line. Fortunately, others I encountered had researched her Collins ancestry. And yes, my grandfather Kitts' mother, a Collins, descends from the Melungeons! Pictured here is my mother's father, George Washington Kitts, described above.