2020 - Gratitude Day #12 - My Grandparents

 Gratitude Day #12 

Today I am grateful for my grandparents.

It's difficult to imagine that my grandparents were born in the late 1800s. And I knew each of them personally.

My Dad's parents were Richard Lee and Fannie Collier Clemens. Dad was #5 out of eleven children, so I can only imagine how difficult it would have been to raise a family of that size in the hollers of eastern Kentucky. They would raise all but two of those children to adulthood. 

Older brother Cecil had died at three months old from whooping cough. 

Little Betty died while sitting in her big sister's lap in a rocking chair. As she rocked, she would push off on the pot belly stove in front of her, not realizing that with each "push", a pot of beans inched toward the edge.

And, it fell on little Betty. 

This sweet 3 1/2 year old girl suffered for three days before her eventual death. Their feelings on the death of any of their children would be no different than mine today.

I don't think my Dad's family had much money, for it doesn't appear that they lived in one place for very long. I am working on two big projects right now that include ICAPGen renewal, as well as for the First Families of Ohio lineage society. Tracing my dad's family began with him and continuing on back. All I can say at this point is that their life was extremely hard and poor.

But, they made it. It's funny how my sisters and I returned to Olive Hill, Kentucky to look for the house we can all remember making visits to. It was a huge white house with a red roof and a wrap-around porch.

Suddenly it just doesn't seem so huge anymore. My sisters kept asking:

"Where's the apple orchard?"

"Where's the hill grandpa rode a hog on?"

I don't know. I can't help you.

The house on College Hill.

Richard Lee and Fannie Collier Clemens

Richard Lee and Fannie Collier Clemens

My mom came from a good family lineage. I have more memories of her parents than I do of my dad's, for when his parents died I was only about age 5 & 6.

I often wonder how any of my grandparents made it through the 1918 flu epidemic. Mom was the oldest of a large family of boys, and two of those boys were lost during that time. Her aunt Harriett lost three children. It wasn't unusual for people to lose many children or other relatives.

Mom's parents were Corbitt Sullivan Stevens and Bertha Agnes Gearheart. For years I wondered how papa Corb got his name, for we have found no one in the family named either Corbitt or Sullivan. No one. 

So, a few years ago, I asked my uncle if he knew where the names came from. He said, "Sure! It was from two prizefighters!"

I wrote about it here: https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/8363417267053930444/1144019730923837419 

I am grateful for the good and happy times I had visiting their homes, eating their food, and listening to their stories. They are the ones who connect me with history - my history, their history, American history.

The house built by Corb Stevens, Lawton, KY

Corbitt Sullivan Stevens

Bertha Agnes Gearheart Stevens

Gratitude Day #4 - Grandchildren - November 2017

Just when we thought our hearts couldn’t expand with any more love to give, along comes grandchildren!

They are perfect, as all grandchildren are.  They live as far apart in the continental United States as you can possibly get, which is one of the reasons I’m always on the go speaking at genealogy venues.  It affords us to be able to visit them.  One set lives in Maine, the other in California.

They are being raised by very good parents, and as far as we’re concerned, this is the best we could ever imagine for them.  Opportunities abound for these children, for they are in the best of circumstances.

They are in large families, which I also think is ideal.  I grew up alone, and I personally wouldn’t wish that on anyone, if it can be helped.  It took me awhile to learn how to work with people.   My mom used to tell me if you can get along with the members of your own family, you can get along with anyone in the world.

So true.

These grandchildren have taught me to laugh and giggle again after experiencing teenage years and young adult years with their parents.  And, just like with us, they are teaching their own parents things they also need to learn – patience and pure love.

When Jordan and family were moving to California a few years ago, baby Madelyn was only a few weeks old.  My job was to hold her while the truck was being loaded, which I gladly did.

One of the photos below is of my hands holding hers.  I sat there and thought for awhile as our hands touched.

My mom’s great-grandfather fought in the Civil War, and she knew him.  He stayed with mom and her family for awhile.

My mom’s hands would have touched his.

I touched my mom’s hands.

Madelyn touched mine.

Baby Madelyn’s hands have touched my hands, who touched my mom’s hands, who touched her great-grandfather’s, who was in the Civil War.

When any of my grandchildren touch my hands, they are touching history.

I am their link to history. 

It's time to do something for yourself!

It's here!!  The contest is here!!!

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There are many opportunities to enter, to refer the contest to friends and family, and to sign up for the Flip-Pal newsletter.

Follow the prompts on the widget to the right, and it will guide you through the entry process.  

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Disclaimer:  Flip-Pal is sponsoring this contest, and the winner will be chosen by RaffleCopter.  I purchased my own unit several years ago, and am an Ambassador for the Grandparents Community:  http://flip-pal.com/category/grandparents/

Sittin' On My Grandparents' Front Porch

I used to love sitting on my grandparents' front porch in Olive Hill, Kentucky.

It was a gathering place for friends and family. 

As a young child, no matter where we went to visit relatives in Kentucky, we were always invited to sit a spell up on the porch.  I learned to love the older generation and hear stories about all of those ancestors that they had known personally.  Many were born in the mid-1800's.  All four of my grandparents were born in the late 1800's.  Even today, people are amazed to hear that I actually knew people that were born 125 years ago!

Mawmaw and Pawpaw would always be on the front porch waiting for us as we pulled into the driveway.  I could hardly wait to be swept up into Mawmaw's loving arms and ample bosom.  She made me feel like her day was complete when she saw us drive up.

We would stay on the porch until bedtime. People would drive by and honk their horn.  They knew everyone who drove by. 

I also remember the many funerals I attended.  There was always a "sittin' with the corpse" - a wake.  People would come for miles around and stay through the night.  Before long, the talk would turn to religion or politics and my mom would send me to bed.  But, as the voices became louder, I would peek through the banister to see the arguments move from the dining room to the front room to the front porch.  There, they continued on and on...

My mother reminded me one day that people in the south are actually very smart.  This was contrary to what others at school believed.  They thought they were just dumb hillbillies.  But, she let me know that they had probably been up since 5:00 a.m. working in the garden and in the barns.  They would have already been up planting their crops.  But, if you drove the countryside during the day, they would all be on their porches till the heat of the day was gone.  Then they would finish up their chores with enough time to spend on the porch.

My Uncle Dick, sitting on the same porch I used to sit on when we would go visiting.  It was built by his father, Corb Stevens.

Even today, my aunt and uncle spend time on the porch, waving to all who drive by.  That's how they tell time - when so-and-so drives by, it must be 4:15 p.m.  They are rarely wrong.  There are flowers and vines that grow on one side of the porch.  It keeps the sun from "beatin' in on you".

I don't have a front porch.  I have a deck, but it's not quite the same.  But tonight, I'm sitting here listening to the tree frogs, the cicadas, the sounds of the earth going to sleep.  A few bats are beginning to dart around.  Some fireflies are providing my own little fireworks show.  People drive by and some even honk, but I don't have a clue who they are.  And, I can't tell the time by their presence. 

In just a couple of weeks, I'll make another trip down home.  I'll probably be welcomed onto the porch just like in times' past.  We'll catch up on things:  how the garden was this year, how's my family doing, how hot it has been, and who has taken sick or died since I was there last.  Well talk about how many head of cattle he has now, and how the two new blue cows are that were born this past spring.  My aunt will bring out some funeral cards and obituaries she's been saving for me.  We'll eat some cornbread and soup beans and probably whatever we can find in the garden.

I can't wait to sit on the porch once again...



My Aunt Betty on her front porch.