Seacrist Family Reunion

My few days at the old home place were just wonderful. So many of you have asked about it.  To you it might not have meant a lot but to me it will be another lasting memory. Family members that I had not seen in too many years, all products of Henry and Lydia Seacrist. I'm not sure of the numbers but there were between 50 and 60 of us there. Many more that would like to have come but distance, jobs, health and simply age got in the way.

Most of the ones of us from out of the area stayed at the same motel,The Country Inn,located about 15 miles from Holly Grove. The service there was outstanding, allowing us to have as many guest as we wanted, whether it be the pool, a good breakfast or the use of the kitchen area or the meeting room just to visit, and that we did, all of the above. There were no special shows or events to attend, even if there were, our interests were each other. You could see and feel the love that surrounded every person there. Four of my five children, two daughters in law,my only son in law, six grandchildren, eleven great grandchildren, and more nieces and nephews then I can count. Each and every one has a special place in my heart. Some I grew up with and baby sat with them when they were young, some baby sat or grew up with my kids, Juanita, the niece who is my guardian Angel made it possible for me to go, along with her daughter who did the driving and her great granddaughter, eleven years old was by my side all the way, making sure I was safe. 
 There was music and singing, my eleven year old granddaughter could belt out a song when you could talk her into it.

The mountains are so so beautiful.  We were not far from the beautiful gold dome of the state capitol. Then there was Holly Grove in contrast, not much change since I last saw it, one year ago, the house looks so lonely, the front porch still there, much smaller then it seemed years ago. As tears welled in my eyes I could see my brothers singing  hymns there on a Sunday morning. I could almost feel the cool rain water on my bare feet,in the low places in the front cement walk that my dad had made. The peonies and snow ball bush that my mother had planted as far back as I can remember are still there. The house is in bad shape and probably won`t be there too much longer. Nobody lives there now. The woman that lived there lived like a hermit, always depended on others to do things for her and her grandson told us that she wouldn't pay to have any work done. She was a hoarder and the whole place is awful inside, at one time there was even a copperhead in the pantry. She passed away in a nursing home and I have heard that she had a million dollars or more in the bank. Needless to say there is a lot of fighting going on in that family. I'm not "mean mouthing" her, she was my cousin and I cared very much for her.

I was tour guide for different groups that wanted to see the cemetery as well as other places of interest, mostly things that are no more. Our picnic at Coonskin park had to end after two thunderstorms, that's when we ended back in the meeting room at the motel. There was family there from Florida, South Carolina, North Carolina, Michigan, West Virginia, Indiana and New York. Lots of stories and laughs crammed into 4 days. The best of any vacation is getting back home. Can`t be away from my BEST FRIEND RICHARD for very long, as well as the rest of my Waterford family.

Kittie, My Sister, My Friend

I wrote this in Feb.2007, for Kittie's memorial service. I still miss her so very much.  She was the last of my family to leave.

   Almost 78 years ago we became sisters and as far back as I can remember,we have been best friends. We were proud to be coal miners daughters. We grew up through hard times,but we didn't know it. However, it made us appreciate everything later in life.

 At a very early age I became her mother figure, even though I was 9 years younger. She was the prettiest one in the family. When new babies were born, if they were pretty, they looked like Kittie.  If they were a little ornery, they were just like me.  Anyway we stood by each other in happy times and sad times. I always wanted to protect her and help fight her battles. If you don't believe it, ask her boys. She would do the same for me when she could.

 She was a classy lady,always proud, had beautiful hair. There were times we'd be waiting to take her to the hospital, and she would say "where is my pick?"  She could be a little bit hard to please. The clothes I'm wearing today, I sent to her for her birthday a couple of years ago.  She loved them EXCEPT,the pants were too hot and the tank top wasn't right. After she went to Millers Merry Manor, she said I could have them back, the pants and tank top but she was keeping the shirt. So here they are Kittie,I'm wearing them in your honor.

She loved to sing [we were like our mother that way] We sang when we were happy or sad or whatever was in between. Even after she lost most of her voice, she still tried to sing with me.
 In the last months there were times when I had to get tough with her but that's what mothers do.
She was a favorite aunt to all her nieces and nephews. Until she was forty years old, they were the ones for her to "dote" on. Then suddenly she had three wonderful boys of her own, She would always say her life truly began at forty. These big guys and her five grandchildren were her life. Her kids and my kids were "our" kids.

I know I will think of things I should have said here, but it would take too long. So many times in the past few years, she would say,"Lois it's just you and me against the world." I'm truly thankful that we had those years to travel that road together, sharing our deepest thoughts that are only known to us.

Anticipation

As I write this on Thursday June 4th, I`m thinking about a week from today.  If all goes well my nieces and I will be on our way to our Family Gathering in Charleston WV. There will be lots of reminiscing when we get together. Some of the nieces and nephews that I baby sat with now have grey hair and are gettin up in years. Even my children are all past 50 and some of the grandchildren are not far from 50. Where did it all go.
    The creek that I used to wade across is still there but with the exchange of property almost 70 years ago in order to build the first " car" bridge closed the path to that part of the water. I sometimes dream of those days when shoes were unheard of for kids in the summer,wading the cool clear water in the creek or ruts in the road after a warm summer rain.
  The 2 room school where my older siblings went to the 8th.grade. When I was old enough to go ,only one room was used,went through 3rd. My oldest children went there for a short time. The building is gone forever but so many memories remain,playing games,hopscotch,marbles, "Andy over the pigs in the clover,can`t get him out `til the ball goes over",as we threw the ball over the building. The hand water pump in the school yard,the his and her`s out houses. Who could forget that.
  The small hill where most of us attended church is still there but the building is no longer. The lot is empty where my grandma lived,and I spent many happy hours with her. She died when I was 12 When I see the spot it brings it all back like it wasn't that long ago. The house that I was born and raised in still stands, the paint is all chipping and the wood looks like it is about done for.The outhouse is still there. The swing is gone from the front porch  where we did some of our "courting" or just sat in the evening listening to the frogs, hoot owls,crickets and whip o wills. Also in summer people would gather around our fence to hear my brothers and sister in law sing hymns.
My mother always welcomed everyone,there was always food,nobody could ever make food as tasty as my mom.
  There are the fields where my dad and his mule tilled the ground and raised our food,all empty now,only the ground and memories remain.
 We will visit the cemetery hill where the population has grown in so many years. It will be bittersweet,with even more memories.
  I am so happy to be going back and it will be fun with lots of laughs and good to see the ones I haven't seen for many years.  Maybe speak to many times about remembering,but some day there won't be anyone to remember or even know about  OUR  memories.

Pondering about Lullabyes and Fairy Tales

We always worry about things children hear and see today. Did you ever think about the VIOLENCE in the stories we heard when we were young?

For example, even the song most of us sang as we rocked our babies. Why in the world would anyone put the cradle IN THE TOP of a Tree especially with the baby in it? Sure, when the wind blows the cradle will rock!  How lazy can a mother be? Surely when the bough breaks the cradle will fall, down comes the whole thing. Would you call that child abuse or just plain STUPID? I have to admit I sang it to my babies, glad they weren't old enough to understand.

There was Little Red Riding Hood, even today most mothers wouldn't send a little girl into the woods to Grandmas, especially knowing grandma was sick,and to top that off there were wolves in the area [maybe they would, because there are a lot of Wolves around these days too]. The more I think about it the more things don't seem that different. Anyway, the little girl wasn't too bright if she couldn't tell her grandma from a wolf. If you remember, the wolf had already eaten grandma then ate the girl, was so full he fell asleep, who knows how much time passed when the wood cutter found the wolf asleep, noticed his big belly, cut it open and out came the two humans, in pretty good shape, just glad to be back in daylight and away from the smell.  Grandma even got her needle and thread from her sewing box, put some stones in the incision and sewed it back together. The three of them ran away before the wolf woke up. That's what you call a SOUND SLEEP!

Another thing was The Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe, housing must have been worse then it is now. She had so many children she didn't know what to do.  She should have known what NOT to do a few years earlier.  Anyway the poor kids were starving, trying to live on broth and not even any bread.  They should have been in foster homes or put up for adoption. Then to make matters worse, she whipped them all, whether they needed it or not, every night before putting them to bed. Now that's Child Abuse,she couldn't get by with that today.

We also should think about Animal Cruelty example Three Blind Mice, what harm could they do to the farmers wife, the poor little things couldn't see.  The more humane thing would be to take them to a Vet or just cut off their stupid heads and kill 'em out right, don't cause pain and unusual punishment.

That's probably what I'm causing you but these are things to ponder!!

Memories of Holly Grove

Angela asked me what's to see at Holly Grove, I said only memories for the one of us who grew up there. The main part of the town is not much bigger than one or two city blocks. There is a mountain, a road, and a few houses on one side of Paint Creek, the main part, as I remember is on the other side of the creek. Almost in the middle of that side is a hill that you can circle around.  Years ago it went all the way to the creek until the railroad cut through the hill that opened up the circle, on the creek side was called the Church Point. Years back, that's where a lot of the young people did their 'courting'.  There weren't many other places to go. I remember when there were oil lamps placed on the walls and a pot-bellied stove in the front part of the room. Walter preached many sermons there in later years. Sunday School was a big event, especially on your birthday when you dropped a penny in a container and ring a bell for each year. We always carried our money tied in the corner of a handkerchief, that you were never without. Many, many family members had funerals there before being taken to the other side of the tracks to the cemetery on the hill. I remember the Revivals and the Baptizing in Paint creek, sometimes when there was ice on the water. The church had been closed for many years, the last time any of us were there was at our family reunion in July 1999.  Doris and I stood in the pulpit and sang  along with my sister Kittie and several others who were there.  Many memories passed through our minds that day. Sometime after that the church burned. Sad, the "church on the rock" is no more.

The railroad was quite a busy thing back "when", mostly for moving coal from several mines up Paint Creek,  many railroad car loads were moved every day. Years back trains were used to fight miners as they tried to form Unions, in fact one man was killed at Holly Grove, being shot from a passing train.

There was a small passenger train called the Doddle Bug that ran every day. Before WW2 we had our own little post office and our mailing address was Hudnall, W.Va. that was run by Mr. Bill Hudnall.  Most of the town people were Hudnall,  Seacrist,  and Hope. The train picked up the outgoing mail every day.There was only a foot bridge across the creek, cars had to "ford" the creek when the water was low. When it was high it usually washed the bridge away.  At those times the only way out was to walk the the railroad and cross the railroad bridge to Hansford or to Pratt Jr High School,  that could be dangerous. The mailing address since the early forties is Hansford, located about one mile from Holly Grove.  One more thing "not to see" is the Rail Road, even the tracks have been taken up.

Now to the cemetery, the rest of the hill across the tracks. For many years it has been a free burial ground for the towns people.  The only care is by the families that still survive.  That means that so many families are gone so most of it is wilderness. I remember my mom and dad going nearly every Sunday weather permitting, to visit the graves of their children. That was the one time they showed affection in public, they would be holding hands.

There were lot's of hearts carved out with I LOVE so and so , on trees in sorta' private areas on the hill. For several years my Dad planted a garden on the side of the hill where there were no graves. This is one place that "still is" but not really.

There used to be a store or two in the town, people didn't have means to travel to supply their needs. Most ran accounts at a store, there was so little money.  When you paid your bill the owner would give a nickles worth of candy that would cost several dollars now. When I was young there was a Beer Joint and Billo's Tavern and dance hall. That too is NO MORE.

The house that my Dad built in about 1904 is still there, the outhouse still in the yard, my parents never had a bathroom Dad died in 1955, mother in 1965.  There was a two room school back of our house.  At one time to the 8th grade was taught there. There were people that lived in little shacks that didn't even have floors.  It was common to wake in the morning to see a house burning, times were tough. Those are NO MORE.

Don't get me wrong, there are still nice homes and beautiful people.  Most are of the Seacrist family, of course! lot's of family in the surrounding towns, Charleston etc. You've got cousins everwhere.

All but two of my siblings were born at Holly Grove.  Walter and Virgie's family,  too many to mention.  You can see what I mean about what is no more but the later generations are still around.

By the way, we did get a bridge sixty years ago, now I hear there is a new one that I haven't seen.

Memories of Walter and Virgie

My memories go back to when I was maybe four years old.  Walter was my big handsome brother.  He was so tall with sorta' curly black hair. Mother told me that he had named me Lois, after a friend [maybe a girl friend] obviously she was a "girl". Strange though I barely remember him calling me anything but Sis. I've heard that his health had not been good.  I heard the words TB and that he had to go away for a while until his health improved. The name Millie Meadows sticks in my mind, don't know where she fits in the picture. Sylvia always talked about his being spoiled.  That's what happens when you're young and sick. I can remember when he went to Brookwood N.Y., I think to study Public Speaking, even though I was young, he wrote letters to me and brought me a pretty ring, wish I still had them.

Virgie and her mother, Elsie Hancock, lived just a short distance from our house. Virgie had gone to college, at that time called New River State College, now West Virginia Institute of Technology, in Montgomery W.Va.  I don't know how long but she taught elementary school for a while. I remember well, tagging after Walter when he and Virgie were "courting" and I would crawl up between them on the front porch swing. I guess it was ok they didn't send my "butt" home.  I always loved being anywhere Virgie was,you might say I was a pest but she never seemed to mind.

When they slipped off and got married, her mother was very hurt and angry.  They didn't speak until after Doris was born. After that things were good between them and "Miss Elsie" loved those grandchildren.

Virgie loved having somebody comb her hair.  I didn't know for a long time that her hair was prematurely grey.  She kept it dyed black, that was kind of the fashion back then.  Anyway I loved playing around with her hair. She would let me wear her diamond rings as I worked. They lived in a little two room house next to our house. Doris was born in the front room at of our house. I'm not sure but Dr. Hansford, the same Dr who delivered most of us might have delivered her. She was a beautiful little girl with black curly hair. Walter took broom handles and two by twos and made their first baby bed. He painted it and it turned out to be very nice.  I doubt if it would pass inspection today. As she got older she would get the prettiest dolls and Walter would make a box for them with glass on the front and hang them on wall to look at. She seldom got to play with them.

I can't remember if Erajuana was next or the only little boy who only lived a very short time.  He looked like a little doll. Walter made a tiny casket and lined it with fabric to bury him in the family lot on the cemetery at Holly Grove.

Memories . . .

So many memories run through your mind when your child has a birthday. But July 24, 1958 when my only daughter, Jo Hannah Chrest, was born brings back special ones.  They go back to the days I told you about, when times were really tough, like when I made my first trip from Holly Grove, West Virginia that I wrote about. 

A few years after returning home, my husband Hector Chrest Sr. was able to find a pretty good job, driving a truck, hauling coal from high on the mountain to the Kanawha River where it was loaded into barges.  As a young boy he had always wanted to be a truck driver.  We finally were able to buy a nice house.  It was new three bedrooms and bath, full basement, more then we had ever dreamed about.  We had our three sweet little boys but Hector and the boys wanted a little girl.  After giving it a lot of thought we decided to try one more time.  It wasn't long until the obvious happened.  Of course back then you had to wait to know the sex. 

Things were "looking up" until Feb 22.  The day started like everything was wonderful.  There was a heavy snow on the ground.  Hector and I were up early getting breakfast and packing his lunch, the boys still asleep.  There just seemed to be a special closeness as he was leaving.  We held each other a little longer.  I watched as he cleaned the snow off the car until he left.  The whole morning seemed to go so well as I started the laundry.  The boys were up getting ready for school.  It just seemed that "all was well".  The school was just across the corner from our house.  The same one that I had gone to as a child.  It was about 10:30, as I was making up the bed.  My mother and a neighbor came in.  I said the usual thing "come on in and have a seat".  They didn't say a word.  I knew something wasn't right, but never dreamed what they had to tell me.  Mother finally spoke "Hector has been killed"!!  A train had hit his truck as he was coming across after dumping his load of coal.  My first thought was I can't handle this.  Then I looked at those three little boys,9, 8 and 6 and my growing tummy and realized I had no choice.  I had something to look forward to, knowing that a part of him was yet to be seen.  When Jo Hannah was born and they said "it's a girl", I didn't believe them.  I just didn't think I could have a girl.  The saddest part is that he never got to see the little girl that he wanted so much.  She was the first granddaughter on the Chrest side of the family and was named Hannah after Hector's mother and Jo after his only brother.  She was everybody's little Princess.  She fell in love with Clyde Rorrer when she was a young teenager.  After they were married and had three children, Clyde decided he had had enough of coal mining and went to Medical School and became a very successful Doctor.  They have been married thirty six years and have three beautiful grandchildren and live in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. 

Strange how when bad things happen, we never know how many other lives it may involve, or change.

email from Aunt Lois
dated July 24, 2012

Berry Pickin'

Summer brings so many memories, too many to even talk about.  Some of the really special ones are the fresh vegetables and BERRIES, just picked from the mountains surrounding our little town of Holly Grove.  It was a family chore to go blackberry or huckleberry [better know as wild blueberries] pickin'.  My mother always made biscuits for breakfast.  I can't ever remember having toast.  Anyway, there isn't anything better than hot berries over hot buttered biscuits in the morning. 

This brings me to something that happened to me while Richard and I were living at Brentwood in Elkhart, a few years ago.  The apartment there was facing a wooded area.  We had a big picture window with sliding side windows that we could open.  We had bird houses and feeders outside.  Squirrels would eat off the window sills where we would put cracked corn out for them.  The deer would come up and eat out of our hands.  We had to go out and around the side of the building to take care of these things.  There was a pathway,not too wide, to walk then it was steep over sort of an embankment. In the spring I noticed berry blooms, no idea what kind.  Well they turned out to be BLACK RASPBERRIES, my very favorites.  I knew I shouldn't try to get to them, but the memory was too much.  At Brentwood we were only given one meal a day, dinner Monday thru Friday, lunch Saturday and Sunday.  I always cooked breakfast. I couldn't resist -- I took along a cane so I could watch for snakes and steady myself to keep from falling over the bank.  I got by with it a couple of times 'til one evening there I was with my 2 quart Tupperware bowl with a handle, probably a quart of berries when Richard came around on his scooter to check on me. He noticed a leaf or something on my back and reached to pick it off and his scooter turned over.  I've heard how your life passes before you when something like this happens.  Well,in a split second my mind went in so many directions.  I can't remember in what order.  Richard is going to be hurt; how long will we lay here before someone finds us; the berries are going in all directions; this time I hope somebody is watching; I'll never be able to retrieve the berries.  Most of them were under me anyway.  I guess I must have broken Richards fall because he ended up on top of me.  He managed to get up right away and turned the scooter upright and was able to help me to my feet as I held on to the empty tupperware bowl.  My clothes were a nice shade of purple and my back was a little irritated from all the brier sticks.  It's a funny story to tell but we were very lucky that we survived the "roll in the rasberries" without any injuries other than our pride. 

Needless to say, I didn't pick any more berries unless I could reach them from the path.

emailed from Aunt Lois on June 28, 2012

Memories of Brant and Irene

June 8, 2012

Today my mind goes back to so many memories of these two special people.  I was pretty young when Brant met this beautiful young blond girl, who moved to Holly Grove along with her mom and dad, Mr.Harry and Mrs.Betty Young and her three sisters, you could never meet a nicer family.

Mother would get upset when Brant would be coming home from work and supper would be ready, because he always stopped to talk to Irene before coming on to the house.  They became so much in love, that never changed in the years they had together, except maybe became stronger.  Even though we were taught dancing was evil, they danced.  One of their favorite songs was Dancing Cheek to Cheek.

When they first married they lived in a little two room house that was at the edge of her parents property.  I think it had been a small store, before my time.

When the war started and Brant was drafted into the Navy, he was stationed in Chicago.  Irene would have me go along when she went, by train, to visit him.  One of the times when "Little" Brant was a baby, I went along to help with him.  We stayed at the Milner Hotel.  There was a drug store across the street, they kept sending me to get banana splits, actually I could never figure how anyone could eat so many.  Go figure!

I'm surprised I didn't get in trouble, one time when Tom was staying with us during the summer.  We were going to the movie at Gallagher.  We missed the show bus and instead of going back home, we decided to walk to the theatre.  I had a dime so we bought a pack of cigarettes and there we went just PUFFIN' away, when a car pulled up behind us and we heard a voice say "get in the car".  You should have seen us flippin' those cigarettes over the bank.  It was Brant and Irene.  They drove us to the theatre and never even asked what we were up to.

So many memories of the little house on Jacksonville Hill, with the big walnut tree and swing in the front yard.  Everyone welcome and always the best food.  I bet you remember the time we went exploring to the Indian Cave.  I think there were 12 of us, including Irene and me.  There were my kids, her kids, and Walters girls.  We walked to Hansford along the railroad track and up the mountain [seemed like a long way].  We decided to come around the mountain to get back home, not thinking there was no way back down to the RR tracks because of the high cliffs.  We were having so much fun, laughing, taking pictures and such, we didn't realize that it was getting close to dark.  Meanwhile Walter, Hector, and others had gotten worried and had called off church and were forming a search party.  We finally got to a mine path off the hill.  The folks waiting weren't too happy but were glad we were safe.

Brant and Irene were always helping others, no matter who or what the need.  When Hector was killed, they were by my side through it all.  A few days after it happened.  Irene took me aside and told me that she and Brant had talked it over and wanted me to know, if something happened to me that they would raise my children.  Words can't express how much that meant to me.

When Brant died at such a young age, what a loss to all of us.  To this day, when I hear Taps being played it takes me back to Holly Grove cemetery, and how our hearts were broken that day.  I can speak for every niece, nephew and everyone who knew them, there is nobody more special then Uncle Brant and Aunt Irene.

Irene has carried on with such dignity and grace, caring for her children and grandchildren.  I know that if Brant hasn't been looking down all these years, Irene is filling him in on all that has happened.  I hope they are DANCING!!!

Though I can't be there at this time, please know I am there in spirit, with so much love for each of you.

Aunt Lois

Memories of Playing Games and Spending Time with Grandma

The games people played, I mean the ones when I was young. There was hop scotch, I've forgotten what the thing we tossed was called. Anyway,  we just used a piece of broken glass and stick to draw the lines. There wasn't much grass in the yards then.  That was before lawn mowers.  We just swept most of the yard. That also made it better for playing marbles. That was very popular, even with the grown men on a Sunday afternoon. We could play "jacks", if we could find 10 small rocks and a little rubber ball. Usually you could find a rope somewhere around the barn to play jump rope. Sometimes several of us would jump at the same time, if the rope was long enough.

I lived only a few yards from the one room school where I went through 3rd grade. One game that all of us liked to play was throwing a ball over the building, yelling "Andy over, the pigs in the clover, can't get him out 'til the ball goes over". I don't remember what the goal was, but then we would change sides.

I remember that there was always noise and laughter on that play ground. Even though it was just a stones throw away from our house once in a while mother would let me take my lunch, that consisted of a biscuit with "cow" butter and home made jelly, packed in a lard bucket.   Boy I felt like "big stuff".

My cousin and I spent so much time with our grandma.  She let us make a little more mess than our moms would.  We played Paper People, cutting pictures out of Sears and Roebucks' catalog.  No store bought paper dolls but we enjoyed ourselves.  We had furniture and everything. The only restrictions were we had to put all of our mess under the bed when we were finished.

I loved spending nights at grandmas.  She had a three room house but only used two of them.  The third was kept neat and clean in case she had company. The "front" room was for sleeping and sitting. She slept in the big bed.  There was another small bed that my grandpa had named "the dog bed".  I don't know why because they never had a dog. The mattress, if you could call it that, was made of shredded corn shucks.  My cousin slept with grandma and I got the dog bed. The walls were papered with newspapers.  In the evening we would play a game by trying to guess what each other was looking at. She lived just across the road from us.  She was my dads mother. Some nights she would tell ghost stories then send me home in the dark.  It was just a few steps, but it seemed like a long way.  I was always so scared. My grandpa, everybody called him Uncle Bud Seacrist, died when I was three.

I think it was April 1941, I stayed home from school because of a tooth ache.  I was twelve.  I spent the day with grandma and read to her. The next day when I came home, was so sad to learn that she had had a stroke and passed away the next day. That was one tooth ache I have always been thankful for. She has such a special place in my memory.

So much for memories of old times.  One thing for sure, the young people today don't know what they are missing.

Memories From Grandma

   Things were so different back in 1929, the year I was born.  I was the 12th child for Henry and Lydia Johnson Seacrist.  All of their children were born at home. The doctors came to the house to deliver babies, rather than mothers going to a hospital.  Most transportation was horse and buggy or train.  By the time I was born, there were some automobiles, so it was easier for the doctor to make the trips.

   There were no disposable diapers.  They were made of cloth and had to be washed and used over and over.  That was not easy since there no washing machines or running water or bathrooms.  Water was drawn from a well and carried in buckets for everything.

   There was no electric or gas for heating or cooking.  Coal and wood was the only fuel, even that had to be hard work.  My dad cut his own wood and even went inside a coal mine to dig out coal. The only lights we had were kerosene lamps.  They weren't very bright but were the best we had.

   Times were bad and people didn't have much money.

   There were no Walmarts or Super Markets, only small little country stores,owned by some neighbor.I remember when my parents only had about $15 to last the whole month, maybe not even that much. They worked very hard, growing their own vegetables and fruit.They had chickens to get eggs and also to kill and eat.  There was a cow for milk, butter and buttermilk, when there was more than we needed Mother would sell some of it to help with expenses.

   Every year they raised a hog, feeding it "slop" made of leftover table scraps.  Each year about November they would butcher the hog to have meat for the winter.  There were no freezers or refrigerators, so the fruits and vegetables had to be canned, pickled, or preserved some way.  One thing that helped, most people had cellars, a small area dug out under a small portion of the house, sorta like a basement only you had to enter it from outside under a cellar door.  This was sloped and made of tin, so we could slide down like a slide in the park, only much shorter.  The reason for the cellar, it was much cooler the year round.

   My father built our house in about 1905.  I've been told it was just four rooms at first but another room was added by the time I entered the picture.  He was a very intelligent man, was a great carpenter, even tho he could read and write very little.  He had to leave school in the third grade to work at a coal mine in order to help support his family, being the oldest in his family.

   My first years of school were in a one room school, grades primer [as it was known in those days] thru 3rd.  It was located just a very short distance from our home.  We carried water from a well or pump for drinking during school.  We poured the water into a stone crock that had spigot at the bottom.   The toilets were little out houses in the school yard, two, one for boys, one for girls. Nobody in our little town of Holley Grove W.Va. had indoor plumbing.  We really did only bathe once a week.  That was done in a little round wash tub.

   Some of the games we played at recess were hop scotch, ring around the roses, hide and seek, and a game called Andy over.  There were 2 groups, one on each side of the building, they threw a ball all the way over the building to the group on the other side.  I can't remember just what the object was but the chant went "Andy over pigs in the clover, can't get him out til the ball goes over"

   In some ways we were healthier then because we spent time outside in the fresh air.  There were no TVs, not even radio, we did have a record player that played 78 rpms.  It had a crank on the side that had to be cranked by hand. That was our main entertainment.  Most of the songs told a story, usually sad songs about things that really happened.  I still love those old songs.

The work was hard but made us stronger.

To be continued::MAYBE