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Ernestine Bell Dean
        "Aunt Tine"
    3^rd. born
    b. 11-10-1887/d. 10-19-1972
     Married: 1^st. marriage
                           Walter Townsand
Aunt Tine and Walter had three children: Hazel, Arthur and Cecil
                        2^nd. marriage
                    John Joseph Flint, b.11-10-1887/d. 12-7-1975
                   S/O William and Mary Francis (Nicholson) Flint
To this union were born eight children: Alva Lee, Ocie Belle, Frances Kotel, Nettie Marie, Mildred Lillian, Bonnie Jean, Ruby Ernestine, John Stanton.

Tine and Walter’s children:
* Hazel Townsand, 1^st. born to Tine and Walter, b. 12-3-1906, married Hugh Snyder of Gilmer County., WV, b. 1-25-1893/ d. 3-16-1995. Hugh died at age 102. He was a World I veteran and retired farmer. Interment Pisgah Cemetery, Glenville, WV. Hazel and Hugh’s children: Waveline, Kathleen, Eugene and Anna Bell.

Waveline Snyder, b. 11-8-1921

Kathleen Snyder, b. 3-9-1926/ d. 2-7-2000
        Married Robert Ferguson in 1945.
Children: Robert Eugene, Patrick Wayne, Kenneth Allen

Robert Eugene Ferguson, b. 8-4-1946
He and wife Susan have four children: Michelle, Lorie, Melisha, John

Patrick Wayne Ferguson, b. 11-27-1950
He and wife Brenda have three children: Tina, Tonia, Adam

Kenneth Allen Ferguson, b. 4-21-951
He and wife Shirley have two children: Buddy and Sharon.
Kathleen and Robert divorced:
Kathleen’s second marriage in 1959 was to Robert Lee Lydick
One son Roger Dale

Roger Dale Lydick
He and wife Teressa have one daughter, Jennifer Lydick

Eugene Paul Snyder, b. 7-18-1928
Never married

Anna Bell Snyder, b. 10/2/1931/d. 10/21/1931

*Arthur Townsand, 2^nd. born to Tine and Walter, b. 5-27-1908. Dusk Camp. Gilmer Co., WV, d. 5-5-1994. Married 12-116-1929 to Lena Gay Parsons, b. 5-2-1912/ d. 6-16-1994, d/o George Edward and Florence (White) Parsons. Children: Dorthy Maxine, Phylis Jacquoline, Arthur Jerry, Peggy Elaine, Paul William, Bruce Waitman, Michael Wayne.

1. Dorthy Maxine Townsand, b. 1-16-1931, married 3-17-1949 to
                                                                      William Eugene James, b. 7-22-1930, d. 7-13-1985.
    Children: Beverly Ann, Delphia Gay, William Eugene, Timothy Lee, Pamela Sue, Gregory Allen.

Beverly Ann James, b. 10-16-1950, married 3-26-1969, Stanton William Stout, b. 9-15-1949. Children: Shona Lynn, b. 10-1-1970 and Theodore William, b. 10-26-1972.

Delphia Gay James, b. 12-17-1953, married 1-10-1976,
                                                                    Mark Allen Plalo b. 7-7-1951.
    Children: Lesa Marie, Kevin Lee, Crystal Rae, Anthony William.

William Eugene James, b. 4-14-1955, married 9-17-1975,
                                                             Lori Ann Huber, b. 8-6-1957.
    Children: Grace Mary, b. 12-22-1976

Timothy Lee James, b. 2-14-1959, married 5-15-1981,
                                                             Debra Jean Harmon.
    Children: Amanda Rochelle, b. 6-17-1977, Gail Renee, b. 4-4-1983.

Pamela Sue James, b. 5-10-1957

Gregory Allen James, b. 10-25-1963, married 2-14-1983
                                                                    Christine Marie Wagner, b.4-15-1983.
    Children: Robert William, b. 4-15-1983, Gregory Allen, b. 2-11-1988.

2. Phylis Jacquoline Townsand, b. 4-9-1932, married 9-9-1950,
                                                                    Billy Jacob Love, b. 11-26-1929/d. 10-19-1980.
    Children: Ann Christine, Harry Mitchell, Patrica Lea, Rita Diane, Debra Fay

Ann Christine Love, b. 4-26-1952, married 9-4-1968
                                                                    Robert Charles Coler,  (divorced).
    Children: Brian Keith Coler, b. 4-1-1970, Bobby lee Coler, 1-1-1972.

Harry Mitchell Love, b. 9-8-1954, married 7-13-1974
                                                             Beverly Ann Yoder, b. 5-13-1955.
    Children: Mathew Wayne, b. 5-29-1980, Jennifer Lynn, b. 8-5-1982, Jason Paul, b. 2-19-1985.

Patrica Lea Love, b. 6-20-1957, married 10-24-1985,
                                                                    Barry Gerald Ricker, b. 1-10-1954.
    Children: Alicia Renee Ricker, b. 12-13-1985.

Riter Diane Love, b. 2-3-1960

Debra Fay Love, b. 9-20-1963, married 11-6-1981,
                                                             Mark Duane Bender. (Divorced) –
    Children: Bart Bender, b. 1-15-1984 and Tracy, b. 2-23-1987.

3. Arthur Jerry Townsend, b. 8-16-1935, married 8-17-1957 to
                                                                    Glenna Lavon VanKirk, b. 9-1-1941.
    Children: Jerry Leon, Betty Lavon, Barbara Louise.

Jerry Leon Townsend, b. 8-12-1958, married 12-31-1981
                                                                    Stacy Ann Byrd, b. 3-9-1963,
    Children: Jerry Leon, b. 1-31-1983 and David Lewis, b. 9-11-1986.

Betty Lavon Townsend, b. 5-16-1962. (Not marrried)

Barbara Louise Townsend, b. 3-2-1964, married 10-2-1987
                                                                    James Anthony Furby, b. 1-23-1956.

4. Peggy Elaine Townsend, b. 6-6-1939, married 8-16-1955
                                                                    Robert Lee Bragg, b. 5-7-1935.
    Children: Jeffery Lee, Regina Mae, Joyce Lynn.

Jeffery Lee Bragg, b. 8-25-1956, married 9-19-1982
                                                             Linda Lou, b. 9-7-1964.
    Children: Jeffery Todd, b. 2-7-1980, Shani Elaine, b. 11-9-1984, Clarissa Gail, b. 6-21-1986.

Regina Mae Bragg, b. 11-17-1958, married 6-4-1977
                                                                    Virgil Lee Bright, b. 12-13-1957.
Children: Misty Dawn, b. 8-24-1982, Michael Wayne, b. 8-17-1985.

Joyce Lynn Bragg, b. 12-18-1960, married 7-2-1983
                                                                    Clayton Jesse Stover, b. 7-10-1953.

5. Paul William Townsend, b. 11-15-1943, married 9-1-1972
                                                                      Roxanna Elizabeth Marks, b. 11-26-1955
Children: David Lee, b. 2-6-1972, Christina Ann, b. 2-20-1974.

6. Bruce Waitman Townsend, b. 3-13-1945, married 2-5-1964
                                                                 Almeda Elonora Mitchell, b. 11-3-1941.
Children: Harold Ernest, b. 10-12-1966, Khristy Lee, Mitchell, b. 7-11-1974.

7. Michael Wayne Townsend, b. 4-5-1950, married 11-28-1970
                                                                        Dolores Alma Bailey, b. 5-30-1950.

*Cecil Townsend, 3^rd. born to b. Tine and Walter, b. 8-22-1904/d. 3-18-1986, married Ruth Alice Sumpter, b. 12-7-1918/d. 9-6-1969. Children: Virginia and Carolyn Sue.

1. Virginia Townsend, b. 12-23-1936, married 8-24-1957
                                                                        Eugene O. Kiser, b. 9-17-1931/d. 12-18-1979,
S/O Otmer and Faye (Parsons) Kiser. Eugene was born at Kentuck, WV, burial Brookdale Cemetery, Elyra, Ohio.
Children: Theresa, Sheila, Michael.
        Virginia’s 2^nd. marriage to Delbert J. Roig, died 3-22-1994.

1. Theresa L. Kiser, b. 9-2-1959,
                                married Michael Findon (divorced)
Children: Joshua Finder.

2. Sheila L. Kiser, b. 8-24-1962,
Children: Daniel Ferren.

3. Michael E. Kiser, b. 8-26-1969,
                                married 9-1-1990 to Kristine Bozell,
Children: Tyler.

2. Carolyn Sue Townsend, b. 2-27-1939, married 1-1-1955
                                                                                    Richard A. Foglyano, b. 5-5-1934,
                                                                                S/O Anthony and Margarete (Kiser) Foglyano.
Children: Mark Anthony, Lori Ann, Toni Sue.

1. Mark Anthony Foglyano, b. 7-19-1955, married 9-20-1974
                                                                1^st. marriage Wanda Pugh,
Children: Temika
                                                                2^nd. marriage: 3-18-1978 to B
Children: Mario Anthony b. 6-16-1981.
                                Temika Folgyano has one child Anthony Folgyano, b. 8-23-1993.

Lori Ann Folgyano, b. 11-23-1958, married 7-18-1981
                                                                  Randy Esser.
Chldren: Ryan, Elizabeth, Erica

Toni Sue Fogylano, b. 1-13-1961
            1^st marriage 1-28-1979 married name Weir
Children: Richard, Scott.
                    2^nd. marriage 6-22-1993 Ricky Sweeney.
 
 

Ernestine Bell Dean
    "Aunt Tine"
    3^rd. born
    b. 11-10-1887/d. 10-19-1972
     2^nd. marriage
                John Joseph Flint, b.11-10-1887/d. 12-7-1975
                s/o William and Mary Francis (Nicholson) Flint

To this union were born eight children: Alva Lee, Ocie Belle, Frances Kotel, Nettie Marie, Mildred Lillian, Bonnie Jean, Ruby Ernestine, John Stanton.

*Alva Lee Flint, 1^st. born to Tine and John, b. 3-18-1915/d.3-18-1989 age seventy-four years.
    Alva never married. he lived his seventy-four years where he was born and raised, the Flint home on Hyers Run in Braxton County, West Virginia.

(NOTE:) <I remember>

I remember Alva as a kind and gentle man. He spent a lot of time in my home when I was growing up. He would drop by for a visit and maybe stay two or three week, helping out on the farm with the chores around and about.

He loved to read, always western stories like Zane Greys novels and Louie LaMore. He might start to read a book and not put it down until he read the last page then tell the story remembering it all. I believe in his imagination he became the character, the "good guy".

He was a great woodsman so observant, he could hear a squirrel long before anyone else could spot it. He knew the names of all trees, mushrooms, wild flowers, where to find a good gin sang patch. He would dig the sang roots, dry it for sale.

He always dressed in western style cloths right down to the boots, hat and string tie. Perhaps impressed by his western heroes. When he was ready to go home he always had a little trinket to give me. I liked to get him started "spinning" a tale of his adventures and travels. He liked working in the garden, liked growing vegetables, melons and cantaloupes. He grew some big ones.

I always missed him when he left. With "drop by again anytime" we would say. He would stay with my Grandpa Austin and Grandma Myrtle Post. He liked Grandma’s "sloppy potatoes" he called them, just potatoes boiled with lots of butter cooked in.

I could tell so many stories about him. Real funny little tales. Anyone who ever knew Abe had to like him, he’d do anything to help someone if he could.
                                                                                                                           { rrj }
<A poem for Abe>

* Ocie Belle Flint, 2^nd. born to Tine and John, b. 9-28-1918, married 11-29-1937 to Frank Odell Brown, b. 3-29-1910/ d. 9-3-1985.
Ocie and Frank’s children: Barbara Belle, Rebecca Ann, Frank Odell, Jr., Dennie Gail.

Barbara Belle Brown, b. 5-11-1939, 1^st. marriage 6-17-1960 to Ronald Lee Cramer, divorced in 1980. Children: Amy Ronall, Jennifer Audra, Ronald Benjamin.

Amy Ronall Cramer, b. 12-27-2964
Jennifer Audra Cramer, b. 11-4-1968
Ronald Benjamin Cramer, b. 6-5-1970

        2^nd.  marriage, 8-23-1987 to
                          James C. Wilson

Rebecca Ann Brown, b. 3-12-1943, married 6-21-1965 to Charles Harold Crook, divorced in 1971. Children: Lisa Ann, Gregory Harold.

Lisa Ann Crook, b. 3-29-1967
Gregory Harold Crook, b. 4-3-1969
     2^nd. marriage, 12-29-1983 to
                          Bobby C. Willford.

Frank Odell Brown, Jr., b. 1-22-1945, married Susan Sweet, divorced,
Children: Paul Eugene,

Paul Eugene Brown, b. 9-22-1972

        2^nd. marriage was to
                          Beverly Nelson.

Dennis Gail Brown, b. 5-11-1949, married 4-9-1968 to Mary Elizabeth Kirk.
Children: Julie Ann, Jody Christopher

Julie Ann Brown, b. 8-14-1971
Jody Christopher Bown, b. 3-15-1974

(NOTE:)
Ocie writes poetry, and through the generosity of sister Frances I would like to share a couple. The first one named Dreams by Ocie, has been written in such a realistic manner it tells a story and paints a picture.

* Frances Kotel Flint, 3^rd. born to Tine and John, b. 3-2-1919, married 6-16-1938 to Lawrence Bazel Rupe, b. 1-11-1917/ d. Children: Sherry Joan, Holly Jean, Alberta Lynn.

Sherry Joan Rupe, b. 7-12-1939, married 7-29-1962 to Thomas Donald Davis, b. 10-19-1936/d. 1-14-1981. S/OThomas Alfred and Susie Estelle (Gill) Davis
Children: Paul Edward, Carol Sue.

Paul Edward Davis, b. 11-18-1964, married 8-10-1983 to
                                                                   Robin Lynette Phipps, b. 11-8-1963, divorced.
     2^nd. marriage 3-13-1999 to
                                       Suzanne Kraft

Carol Lee Davis, b. 10-28-1966, married 8-20-1993 to
                                                          Roger Wayne Harris b. 10-19-1967, divorced 12-5-1995.
One Child: Kyla Nichole Harris, b. 2-26-1993
    Sherry’s 2^nd. marriage 12-31-1987 to
                  Ted Eugene Gilbert, Sr., b. 7-19-1937
                        S./O Gene B, & Henrietta C. (Goeglein) Gilbert
                        Ted’s children: Ted Eugene Jr. and Kenneth Fred

Ted Eugene Gilbert, Jr. b. 7-31-1960, married 7-30-1983 to Emily Patrica Thornton, b. 10-3-1963. Children: Mathew Tyler, b. 2-6-1986, Sarah Elizabeth, b. 8-16-1988, Emily Rachael, b. 9-3-1992.

Kenneth Fred Gilbert, b. 5-8-1962, married 4-25-1987 to Diana Dixon, b. 1-13-1966. Children: Joseph Andrew Trammell, Gilbert b. 8-17-1982 (adopted by Ken), Kristopher Adam Trammell, Gilbert, b. 5-4-1985 (adopted by Ken) and Joshua Daniel Gilbert, b. 11-19-1989.

* Nettie Marie Flint, 4^th.. born to Tine and John, b. 1-3-1921, married 4-4-1940 to Marvin Dale Blake, b. 12-3-1919/d. 8-9-1987. Children: (Twins) Donna Louise and Dana Lewis, Marvin Douglas, Roger Lee, Marcia Jean.

Donna Louise Blake, b. 6-25-1940, married 10-20-1962 to John F. Mahoney, b. 9-30-1939; divorced 1981.
Their children; John Fredrick Mahoney, Jr., "Jay", b. 7-17-1963 and Matthew Blake Mahoney, b. 4-1-1968.

Dana Lewis Blake, b. 6-25-1940/d. 6-25-1940.

Marvin Douglas Blake, b. 11-19-1941, married 12-28-1966 to Rose Marie Brecht, b. 4-4-1945.
Their children: Regina Lynn, Kathy Ann, Gary Lee

Regina Lynn Blake, b. 6-3-1964, married 9-27-1986 to Glenn Allen Merritt,
b. 2-27-1962.
Their children: Katie Marie Merritt, b. 10-9-1987

Kathy Ann Blake, b. 11-27-1966, married Jeffery Michael Schwing, b. 4-20-1968.
Their children: Michael Jason Schwing, b. 8-25-2987

Gary Lee Blake, b. 5-5-1977

Roger Lee Blake, b. 7-9-1943/d.6-28-1967, married Sue Wood.

Marcia Jean Blake, b. 11-6-1951, married 6-13-1970 to Joseph Stephen Oakes, b. 1-1-1949.
Their children: Connie Jean, Rebecca Marie

Connie Jean Oakes, b. 9-22-1971

Rebecca Marie Oakes. b. 6-23-1980

* Mildred Lillian Flint, 5^th.. born to Tine and John, b. 2-4-1923/d. 12-15-1998 married 5-6-1947 to Stephen Robert Yarosius, b. 8-3-1921. Children: Dean Richard Blake, Flint, Harry Douglas Greene, Yarosius, Stephen Linn Yarosius, Tinia Marie Yarosius, Stephen Robert Yarosius, Kevin Michael Yarosius.

Dean Richard Blake, Flint, b. 8-4-1940, married Elaine Pugh. Divorced.
Their Children: Kelly Ann Gilbert, Flint, Gercak, Tracie Dawn Flint, Shannon Amber Flint.

Kelly Ann Gilbert, Flint, Gercak, (daughter of Judy E. Gilbert) b. 7-1-1960.

Kelly’s children; Jennifer Gercak, b. 5-16-1984 and Michele Renee Gercak, b. 10-4-1985

Tracie Dawn flint, b. 2-13-1966 and Shannon Amber Flint, b. 7-15-1968

Harry Douglas Greene, Yarosius, b. 8-13-1942; married 5-27-1966 to Barbara Ann West, b. 9-4-1945.
Their Children: Barbara Jean Yarosius, b. 12-26-1968

Stephanie Linn Yarosius, b. 5-3-1948; married 10-16-1967 to Clyde E. Kennell, b. 2-28-1947; Divorced.
Their children: Michele Lynn Kennell and Brenda Lee Kennell.

Michele Lynn Kennell, b. 6-13-1968.
Children: One daughter, Kristina Ann Marie Kennell, b. 10-22-1987

Brenda Lee Kennell, b. 6-16-1970

Tinia Marie Yarosius, b. 6-25-1950, married 3-3-1973 to Gerald McCurdy, b. 1-7-1954.
Their Children: Timothy James McCurdy, b. 12-14-1977, Rebecca Jane McCurdy, b. 12-2-1979, Katherine Ann Jeanette McCurdy, b. 6-27-1981 and Sarah Jeannine McCurdy, b. 12-25-1984

Stephen Robert Yarosius, b. 7-6-1963; married 10-9-1982 to Teresa Louise Kinkade, b. 3-19-1957.
Their children: Shayna Kay Yarosius, b. 3-5-1987 and Adam Christopher Kinkade, Yarosius b. 9-30-1978 ( adopted by Robert).

Kevin Michael Yarosius, b. 10-30-1954; married 7-15-1978 to Denise Michele Wrightman, b. 7-20-1959.
Their children: Kyle Michael Yarosius, b. 5-24-1985 and Kari Matthew Yarosius, b. 2-25-1988.
 

* Bonnie Jean Flint, 6^th.born to Tine and John, b. 8-23-1924 married to John Stanly Drozdy, b. 10-12-1929. Divorced
        2^nd marriage 7-10-1963 to
                            William Mitcham, b. 10-21-1923/d. 10-4-1985.
Their children: Linda Diane Mitcham and Michael Dale Mitcham.

Linda Diane Mitcham, b. 6-18-1952, married 8-31-1969 to Christopher Mark Dunn, b. 6-5-1953/d. 1-29-1984. Divorced
Their Children: Mark Christian Dunn

        2^nd. marriage 9-15-1971 to
                            Robert Lee Pittman, b. 8-7-1949. Divorced in 1979

Their Children: Robert Michael Pittman, b. 1-17-1973

Mark Christian (Dunn) Pittman, b. 4-21-1970 (Adopted son of Robert Lee Pittman)

Robert Michael Pittman, b. 1-17-1973

Michael Dale Mitcham, b. 4-17-1954, married 8-25-1979 to Lynn Marie Machinchick, b 3-15-1959.
Their children: Jessica Lynn, Mitcham, b. 1-11-1981
 

* Ruby Ernestine Flint, 7^th.. born to Tine and John, b. 1-29-1926 married 11-13-1944 to Mack William Straley, b. 1-13-1918/d. 7-29-1980.
Their Children: Sharon Elaine Straley and Mack William Straley II.

Sharon Elaine Straley, b. 4-8-1936, married 7-1969 to Gerald Whitehead, Divorced
Their Children: Stephen Larry Whitehead, b. 4-12-1973
        2^nd. marriage: 11-26-1982 to
                                Wiley Stewart Roberts, b. 11-18-1941.

Mack William Straley II, b. 4-8-1950.

* John Stanton Flint, 8^th.. born to Tine and John, b. 11-22-1929 married 8-1-1953 to Belma Pearl (Campbell) Wilburn, b. 3-9-1923.
Their Children: Jimmie Earl Wilburn, Vicki Lynne Flint, Judith Ann Flint, John Ervin Flint.

Jimmie Earl Wilburn, b. 7-29-1947, (Stanton’s step son) married 3-3-1982 to Sandra L. Feldman, b. 6-4-1953.
Their Children: Lori Ann (Wilburn) Adair, b. 11-13-1967, John Joseph Wilburn, b. 2-13-1977, Kristina Feldman, b. 5-29-1977 (Step-daughter), Kelly Ann Wilburn, b. 9-17-1983 and Kyle Mathew Wilburn, b. 12-20-1986.

Vicki Lynn Flint, b. 2-26-1954, married 4-19-1974 to Charles William Parsons, b. 8-10-1953.
Their Children: Meggan Marie Parsons, b. 7-18-1975

Judith Ann Flint, b. 2-25-1955, married 1-19-1974 to Thurman Eugene Cole, b. 1-26-1950.
Their Children: Adrianne Marie Cole, b. 12-29-1977

John Erwin Flint, b. 5-12-1960, married 11-5-1986 to Jacqueline Turner, b. 11-9-1961.
Their Children: Ryan Koons, b. 3-15-1981 (Step-son) and Stephanie Ranee Flint, b. 5-10-1987.
 
 

(Note) Source for the Earnestine Belle "Tine" Dean, Townsend, Flint family info. compiled by Sherri Joan Gilbert, daughter of Frances Kotel Flint, Granddaughter of "Tina" Belle Dean, Townsend, Flint. Joan makes this note: (There are 262 people listed in the Dean/Flint family history, using 471 different given names. 159 are direct descendants of "Tina" Belle Dean, Townsend, Flint at the time of her documentation.)

By: Barbara Cramer Wilson
D/O Ocie (Flint) Brown
June 22, 1994

A few years ago, Joan put together biographical information on the Ernestine Dean - John Flint family and its descendants and provided each of us with a copy I'm sure we have all mused over this information many times Now, several of you, representing almost every family, have responded with memories of childhood, stories of what it has meant to be a part of the Flint family over the years. As I read and typed these pieces, I was deeply touched often moved to tears.

Each generation since Granny and Granddad Flint has moved further from the "holler," further from roots in the earth itself. Yet, strangely enough the hollow appears to have claimed. in some way, even those of us who have been farthest removed from it. Just to know that we have roots in this extravagant terrain and in the strong and simple folk who wrestled a life from it are to know that we have been granted a share in God's most generous gifts. While many long for such a heritage, we ourselves are grateful for it.

Granny Flint's picture, framed and hanging on my bedroom wall, is a symbol of strength for me. Her goodness (meowing cats not withstanding !) is constantly a challenge, and often I think how really fine it is to draw strength and encouragement from forbears who were strong and good. For me, this heritage has continued in my own mother, whom I admire and respect. I am sure that others of us have similar feelings about their parents. Some of the following pieces reflect this, and I sincerely hope they will have as much meaning for you as they have had for me. If the reading encourages you to write a piece, please do and we will add to our book. Thank you one and all!

       Barbara Cramer Wilson

I believe the incoherent mix of nostalgia is what keeps us all coming back to the "holler" We are remembering our past and the place of our beginning. My memory of coming to the hollow is not too vivid as I was born in a small coal mining town just across the hill from the hollow. The old house we moved into was probably the venerated remains of the nineteenth century. It was dark, drab and had a musty smell. Ladder-like steps were built on one end of the house on the outside. These my two half-brothers climbed each night to reach their sleeping quarters in the attic. We only lived in this monstrosity for a short time. We moved out to another house, which is now known as the Blake Hollow, while Dad had another house built on the same spot. Here most of the family were born and lived. After most of the family were grown Dad sold the place and moved to Burnsville. Sometime later the house burned down and the farm was sold for taxes. Daughter number five bought it and the parents came back to the holler after building another house.

Before I was old enough to go to school I learned, in a small way the difference between life and death. I somehow have a subconscious perception that my younger half-brother was instrumental in this. We had a big flock of chickens and a long box like construction was built in which they laid their eggs. It was sectioned off and there were in it several nests of straw. All these nests were within my reach. I learned, somehow (it seems Cecil showed me), that by breaking a small hole in the end of the egg I could suck it out--and I liked the raw egg! This occurred until one day when I tried to get the egg to flow out and something happened. It wouldn't come out. Picking off more of the shell--you guessed it! That egg had a baby chicken in it, naked, and it squirmed. Oh, I still remember how I felt. Hero was a poor little chicken about ready to be born and I had killed it. Since that day I do not taste raw eggs, however, over the years I feel like I have solved the question of "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?"

When I was two years, five months and six days of age my first sister was born. I had by this time already learned to do small tasks as I knew just exactly where her diapers were stored. Back in the early twentieth century little girls wore bloomers. Yes! Today they are made differently and they also have a different name Ours were made big and full with elastic in the top and legs which ended just above the knee. At night we slept in them with a flannel night gown over them. One night I woke up soaked, and knowing where the diapers were, I stuffed my bloomers full of them as at this time I had not yet learned the knack of pinning one on. Eventually I got enough stuffed in my bloomers that I could no longer feel the wet and cold. I hopped back into bed and slept!

One of my very first chores was planting beans, which brought me some pain and sometimes tears, brought about by an old corn planter and a half-brother who was the manipulator. He used this old-time corn planter, which had a box at the top for the corn. This gadget had two handles at the top and when they were pulled apart it dispensed 2 or 3 grains of corn which felt to the bottom. When the handles were closed back together and the planter was pulled out of the soil the corn was planted and covered. The beans had to be placed into the planter before the handles were closed. That was my job. Many times before I could jerk my hand out after dropping the beans in, Cecil would close the handles, mashing my fingers. Then he would laugh--the sound of which was somewhat similar to a braying jack-ass.

A gas well stood close to our house, and we were entitled to free gas, but my mother was afraid of it so we heated by coal and cooked with wood. The gas line ran close to. and on beyond the house, out through the field. One day Abe and I were just over the bank out of sight of the house when we discovered some metal plugs in the gas line. (These existed in order to open the lines and release the condensation which formed in them.) We each got a small stone and started pounding on one of the plugs. After a few taps from each of us the plug fell out and there was a roar and a whistle loud enough to knock the ears off a stalk of corn. We ran, I think faster than anything could fly, out through the field, and upon hearing a scream, or maybe it was a yell, I looked back over my shoulder and saw Mom coming on a run. I stopped. She had a big butchering knife, a hammer and a stick. Just as I was thinking, She is going to kill us, she flopped down on the ground and started whittling on the stick. After a bit of cutting on the stick, she dropped the knife, picked up the hammer and pounded the stick into the hole where the metal plug had been. I really thought she was going to kill us, but after a bit of chastisement she took the hammer and the big knife back to the kitchen. Good old Mom! The next time we knocked a plug out it was close to the well, where the line crossed the creek. Being a bit braver this time, we struck a match and set the escaping gas on fire. After pouring water on it by the bucketful and not being able to bring the fire under control, we started putting sand and gravel on it. That worked, and we managed to get a plug into the hole. Mom didn't show up that time, but we never tried it again.

There was always a lot of work, and, it being a way of life for us, we went about it with the hope of seeing it done. A large field of corn was planted each year and also a big patch of potatoes. As we were introduced to the fields for work, Dad was always the teacher and we learned early it was best to do the job right the first time. We hoed corn from early morning until noon, then came to the house for dinner. After eating we went back to work. Many times as we worked in the hot sun someone was always looking up to see if there was a cloud in the sky. saying. "Oh Lord, let it rain. Sometimes in the mornings I would start making up tales to pass the time away. About five in the evening we would go home for supper. After supper, when we girls got the dishes finished, if it was not yet dark we would play. We had some old tires and we rolled these up and down the hill to the gate seeing how many times we could jump over them while they were moving. I was small enough that I could curl up inside one of them. Abe usually held it up until I got inside then gave it a roll and over the hill I would go. Most of the time I never made it all the way as it would be so unbalanced it would just fall over. We also had a big grapevine in the woods that we had a lot of fun swinging on. It ran up into a big tree. We cut it off at the top of the ground but found we had to shorten it more so we cut off some more of it. As many as four of us could go out on it at one time. One time when four of us tried it Bill Knight's hands were on the bottom. When we got out there as far as we could go all our hands started slipping and we crowded Bill off. When he hit it was across a log. We ran to him as soon as we got back to the ground. There he lay, comatose. We thought he was dead. We carried him to the creek and the cold water soon brought him around.

On one particular day, Dad was hoeing corn with us- The rows were so long it took one-half a day to hoe one row Dad always took the bottom row as we kids could not hoe as fast as he could. When we got too far behind, he would come back and help each one of us catch up. As I had the second row, he started helping the ones behind me. In my row was a big rock that was too large for me to move and just above it was another one which was smaller. I laid my hand on the bottom rock and while pulling weeds from around the other smaller one I somehow pulled it down hitting my thumb. I inspected my injury, and through the flowing blood, saw that the thumbnail was gone. I started to scream like a banshee and Dad came running. Shaking his head, he pulled a quid of juicy Mail Pouch out of his mouth, slapped it down on my thumb, tied his old red bandanna around it and sent me home. The next day I was back in the field hoeing corn. We worked hard but every so often we stopped and rested for about fifteen minutes. One day while we were resting we were watching some ants and someone called them piss ants. Right away. Dad said, "Kids, they are not piss ants, they are Pismires. Later, I almost got into a fight with one big boy in school when I called an ant a pismire. He laughed and wanted to know how I had come up with such a name. I told him Dad had told me and he said Dad was  crazy. We looked it up in the dictionary then he wiped the smirk off his face.

A storm had blown a large tree down on the hill close to the field where we worked. The leaves were still green on it and it was covered with a wild grape vine. Once when we stopped work we climbed on it and while playing around I yelled to the others to "Come watch the squirrel go." I gave a big leap and landed in the tree and vine, but my leg was hurting. When I climbed out there was a big cut place just behind my right knee and the blood was flowing profusely. Today I still carry the scar.

I used to think my mother didn't like me very much. When she addressed me as "Young lady" I immediately knew there was something in store I wasn't going to relish. I was only four years old when school started in 1921, however my fifth birthday was at the end of September. Because it was a small school and didn't have many pupils, I was permitted to go. That was one of the two years I never missed a day of school. When the snow was deep my half-brothers either carried me part of the way or pulled me on a sled. This first year in school was when Mom began saying to me, "Young lady, the hemp is growing for your neck!" Sometimes I wanted to go to school at seven o'clock and it didn't start until nine. Almost every morning I was a brat. After Mom had threatened me a few times I began to wonder what she meant by hemp growing for my neck. When I was in the fourth grade I looked the word hemp up in the dictionary. The definition said it was a "tough Asiatic plant from which the fibers were used to make rope." I got the message!

Up until I was a teenager we worked out on the farm six days a week, then Dad started letting us have Saturday afternoon off. This gave us plenty of time for a good bath and shampoo before church on Sunday. We never worked on Sunday. When I was 17 we had a Sunday School class of about 40 young people. We went to class on Sunday morning and on Sunday night we had a young people's program which consisted of singing, talks, Scripture reading, prayer and most of the time, special music by either the Patterson trio or the Flint sisters. Then on Wednesday night we had prayer meeting. About every week someone had a party and all the young people attended. These parties were well chaperoned and not one time was there any rough housing and none of the young men ever came drinking.

I think I was the only girl in the group who smoked, however, I was never harassed about it except by my mother. I learned to smoke before I was twelve. Dad raised tobacco and we kids would go to the shed where the tobacco was dried and take a big leaf and roll it up like a cigar. Sometimes it was hard to get one of these lit, but once you got the smoke swirling it didn't take long for the whole world to start spinning around you. Then, too. brother Abe could sometimes come up with a ten- cent package of Wings. He often hired me with a Wing cigarette to go with him to the "coal bank" and bring a sack of coal home. One day when we went to get coal, he lit the carbide light and we went into the mine and I demanded the cigarette. He took one from the pack and held the light for me to light it. About the second puff, the cigarette went "psst, psst" and as it flew out of my hand sparks were dancing around everywhere. He was laughing as I cracked him with the shovel. He was telling me not to be mad and he would give me another one, which he did. It also blew up on me and I chased him out of the mine by throwing chunks of coal at him. Finally he lit one himself and gave it to me. As Dad was a coal miner, he kept dynamite, caps, fuses and squibbs at the barn. We knew exactly what each of these things was for. We also knew the danger. Never at any time did we bother anything except the squibbs which were papers rolled up with black powder on the inside. They were used when dynamiting coal to break it loose and bring it down. We often had fun with them. Abe had cut off a very small piece and stuck it up into each of the two cigarettes he gave to me The only damage--a mad sister

We six girls sort of paired off as we grew up. Fran and I were each other's shadows until she left home and went to Kingston to go to school. I cannot remember our ever being mad at each other, however, I was pretty mean to three of my other sisters. I was dating my first boyfriend and my mother had gone to see our sick Granny. I had to cook while she was gone One evening Marie was helping me and she started calling me Mrs. Steele." I was getting madder at her by the second when I took a meat platter from the cupboard for the ham. Right at that time she called me Mrs. Steele again. I hit her over the head with the platter and it broke. I knew it didn't hurt her very much as it was an old one and sort of cracked, however, it did shut her up. I don't think she ever held it against me, though, because we were always close friends after that.

I laid it across two other sisters one night after all three of us were married and it  was because someone had taken my wallet and from all appearances they were the  guilty ones. When I asked Ruby's husband, Mack, what I should do, he said, “l'd crack  their heads together" Just as he made that remark they had their heads close together, talking, and with a hand on the back of each one's head, that's exactly what I did. Gott in Himmel, I was about to get killed! Mack was the one who had taken my  wallet! The girls, Ruby and Koots, said it did hurt, and I didn't really mean to hurt them, so knowing my own strength now and with great age descending upon me, I'm very cautious about banging heads!

While we were kids at home, I don't think we ever quarreled and fought with each other to amount to much. We worked hard and if we had any time for play we played well with each other. We didn't call each other nasty names as we did not hear such. One time Fran and I stopped to visit an old woman who had only sons. That day she told us some tall tales about her boys, and as she spoke of the she called them "little hell cats." That was a new one for us. A few days later Mom sent us on the hill to   pick raspberries. As the rows were long, Fran started at one end and I at the other. As  we were quite a distance apart we had to speak loudly in order to hear one another.

Every time we said anything we would yell, "Hey little hell cat." Just now we heard a big voice saying, "I'll just 'hell cat' both of you." We looked up and there stood Dad just above us. I thought, Boy, this time we're really gonna get it. He didn't switch us but he said, "There will be no more such talk as that." We never used the words again.

I was a teenager and in my early twenties during the Great Depression, however, it didn't bother me too much. We were always poor, but so were most of the people who lived in our community. We always had plenty of food, however, clothing was not so plentiful. I believe most of us who grew up during these years have a deeper appreciation of the good things of life than the ones growing up in the past thirty or forty years.

In remembering Vietnam I feel it brought a great deal of sorrow to so many in so many ways. Our young men died fighting an undeclared war in a land far away, and for what? Not only that, but as our fighting men came home, everyone was soon aware that the disease of drugs had hit our land as no one had ever witnessed before, and yet, today, it seems to grow.

I'm tired but could go on for a month...but it probably wouldn't interest anyone.

BY OCIE BELLE FLINT BROWN  b. 9-28-1916  /d.
m. 11-19-1937  Frank Brown /b. 1910  /d. 1985
2nd born to John & Tina
Children: Barbara Belle      Rebecca Ann  Frank Odell (Buggs)   Dennis Gail

I remember when Dad wasn't away from home working in the coal mines, Abe, Ocie and I went to the corn fields with him. He would take the first row, put me in the second row, then he would do half of mine. Ocie could keep up to us, but Abe would be way back because he did a perfect job. He was just like a barber cutting hair and shaving--slow and easy and pretty to look at.

I've also gone to the coal bank with Dad and two or three more of us. He would drill a hole and put dynamite in it to shoot some coal down. When he got ready to light the fuse he would say Fire in the hole," and we would all run outside. Then we would all carry a load of coal from the Blake Farm to our house. We also cleaned all the dry poles and wood from our woods and the knights let us clean their woods. At one time we had to cut a few green trees. We also had to carry all the water we used. I remember going to the river one time to wash some clothes. Back then the Little Kanawha River had nice, clear water. When Dad wasn't home, Abe, Ocie and I took care of the cornfields. We worked hard but we rested every so often and Ode kept us laughing our fool heads off. She was a guy named "Bill." She made the stories up as
she went along. She didn't waste any time and they were good. When I was starting to high school I didn't want to go. I wanted Ode to go and get an education. I wanted her to become a writer. Oh, well--she did that anyway.

I will always remember Hyres Run church and the people who went there. Mrs. Heavener was a pillar." She taught Ocie, me, Marie and Koots to sing and we went around to a few churches and sang. She told us to be sure and say the words so that everyone could understand them. She is missed so much at that church. Of course, we usually had a fellow who walked us home from church on Sunday night. We would take a rest and sit down by the road for a little while. The boys and Ocie would have a cigarette and if I took one Ocie would slap it our of my hand. I don't know if she didn't want me to get the habit or if she just didn't want to see me vomit

Ethel Brown was our teacher in Sunday School for a long time. She was good and there were a lot of young ones in our class. Every Sunday we were supposed to stand and recite a Scripture verse. One girl, Juanita Conrad always said John 3:16. I think all of the rest of us sort of looked down on her for saying the same verse every Sunday, but later in life I think she was the wise one. I've remembered John 3:16 all my
life, but I never remembered any other.

I also remember that in the summer when Dad was home in the evening after work was done, Marie and I took turns washing Dad's feet.

I often wonder how Mom got all the things done she did. She made all our clothes, even our “bras”. She was a wonderful cook. We loved the mush and milk. She would cook it in the iron pot and we would get the cold milk out of the cellar and put it on. Believe you me, there wasn't any left to fry! On Sunday, when we got home from Sunday School she would have a great big plate full of lettuce leaves and potato salad on top of it, besides everything else. She would go to church with us Sunday and Wednesday nights.

All the parents on Hyres Run were more or less parents to all the children there. When some stayed all night with us, Mom and Dad treated them good just like they did us, and when we stayed at their homes overnight, they did the same for us. I'll always  remember Mrs. Lena Knight. She was so good. When our brother, Stanton, was born we were in school and when we were on the way home that evening, she
 stopped us and said, "The doctor is up there with your mommy. and I have supper ready for you all." She had us come in and eat and when the doctor came down she let us go home. She would also stop us and the Layfield children on cold mornings and have us come in and get warm. She would always have a basket of apples sitting  by the fireplace but she wouldn't tell us to have an apple--she knew if she did we would take two! So we would just take one. A smart woman, huh?

We had lots of good times at Hyres Run School. One teacher I will never forget. The only whipping I ever got in school was for not getting a lesson. He whipped Abe, me, and Pauline Layfield right there in front of all the other kids. A few weeks later, he told us to memorize "The Star Spangled Banner" and one night before we were supposed to recite it the next day in school, I memorized one verse The next day when he called our class to the front of the room, I was so scared, I thought, This time he will kill us It must have shown on my face, because he had the whole school get up and sing it. He didn't even ask us if we had memorized it. Now I don't know whether it was the whipping he gave me that made me mad at him, but I carried a grudge for thirty-some years. BUT when I came back to the farm to take care of Mom and Dad, I married him to get even and he has been paying for it ever since. Or, I guess, it could have been the good feeling I had for him when he had all the school get up and sing "The Star Spangled Banner" instead of whipping us again. He was one of the best teachers, and he wouldn't even let us say "dog-gone-it."

I really think Ocie made it more exciting on the farm. She would try anything. One day after we had lunch, we went back on the hill to hoe corn. We had a little log building up there. It wasn't very large or high. There was a bird's nest on one of the logs at the ceiling There was a big black snake up there after the bird and the eggs. She took it by the tail and put its head under her foot. She asked Abe for his knife. She took it and cut a ring around the snake's neck and skinned it alive. Then she said, "Now that will teach you to leave birds be."

I like to go back to the farm. I have a feeling that Dad and Mom are above us up there and smiling down at us because we still have the farm going and it didn't die. I think I've been to the cemetery where Dad, Mom and Abe are resting two or three times. Their bodies are there, but their spirits are at the farm.

  BY FRANCES KOTEL FLINT RUPE GOODRICH  b. 3-2-1919 /d.
 
 

BY MILDRED LILLIAN "KOOTS" FLINT YAROSIUS   b. 2-4-1923 /d.
5th Born to John & Tina
married:  6-6-1947 Stephn Yarosius

Why do we go back to the hills? It's nice and quiet most of the time, and we always did go back as much as we could.

We had fun as kids--playing in the creek, catching craw-dads and seeing who could find the biggest pearl in their head, playing in the woods on trees and swings in the grapevines.

We worked when we were big enough to carry a hoe. There were acres of corn and big hay fields. There was lots of fruit and wild berries to be picked. I enjoyed picking wild blueberries then and still do.

I was always afraid of snakes and bad storms--still am. Mom had to chase a big black snake that was nipping my heels once.

We played marbles and rolled wagon wheels down the hill to see who could go the fastest without letting go. I don't remember who won. Abe would always win in marbles and he would shoot our knuckles with his steelie, and it hurt, too!

Marie and I used to carry Ocie's cigarettes so Mom wouldn't find them, so we tried them. We smoked field blossom, corn silk and birch. None of it was good, so we used to get Dad's chewing tobacco and dried it on the stove. It wasn't bad!

We never went hungry and we had enough clothes, although there were a few patches here and there, which made us feel bad sometimes, but now I see you can buy them with patches already on them--for more money.

Anyway, it was a good life, and I think Mom and Dad were good parents or they
would have drowned us in the river.

BY MILDRED LILLIAN "KOOTS" FLINT YAROSIUS   b. 2-4-1923 /d.
5th Born to John & Tina
married:  6-6-1947 Stephn Yarosius
 Children: Dean Richard Blake Flint
Harry Douglas Greene Yarosius
Stephanie Linn Yarosius
Tina Marie Yarosius
Stephen Robert Yarosius
 Kevin Michael Yarosius

BY BONNIE JEAN FLINT DROZDZ MITCHEM b. 8-23-1924 /d.
6th Born to John & Tina
Married: John Drozdz

One of my first jobs as a child was to pull weeds to feed the pigs. They were in a big pen with weeds. I think Dad wanted weeds pulled. plus fat, lazy hogs. Then, we were shown how to snatch the top off the grass so the yard would look mowed. We never had a lawn mower while I was at home. At eight or ten years of age, my job was to feed the pigs two five-gallon buckets of feed. I still think that is where I got my huge wrist bones! Heavy! There was always wood to carry. You were never too young, and never outgrew the job.

At twelve or thirteen I worked in the corn and the gardens. I remember one occasion working in the hay field with Marie, Koots, Ruby and Dad. I had on a pretty pink print dress that Marie had made her first year in high school. It was pretty, but the hay stubble still  hurt my bare feet. Ruby and I raked and carried the hay to the stack, Koots and Marie pitched, and Dad tramped and formed the biggest stack that was ever on our farm. Later on the stack  was hit by lightning and burned to the ground. What a waste of talent!

We grew up in pairs: Ocie and Fran, Marie and Koots, me and Ruby. Abe and Stan were years apart. There was something about everyone to love. Ocie recited any and everything; she has a good imagination. Fran was pleasant and very pretty. just spent more time with the three younger girls. There were rainy days when we played in the barn loft. We took turns being a preacher and we did some good sermons! We copied after our church--just took a sentence and went to work on it! I don't know how anyone could talk so long on one sentence.

Our personalities didn't seem too varied when we were children. Our only playmates were each other and Bill Knight, sometimes Wardna Knight and Helen Knight when they were in for the summer. There was not too much conflict of interest--it was a small world.

Stan and I once got switched by Dad. He was late coming in for lunch and Stan and I decided somewhere around two o'clock we were hungry again and we went for Dad's share. Aunt Annie told us we could not have it: it was John's dinner. We mouthed off at her, and Dad, who had just come in from the hill, was listening. He cut a couple of paw paw switches and skinned them so they wouldn't hurt us. He put us on straight-backed chairs and we thought for all afternoon. He saw Marie, Koots and Ruby watching us, then asked us what we were supposed to be doing. I finally stuttered around my tears and said, "Swimming." He told us to go ahead, but never to be mean to his sister again.

I learned to smoke on an occasion when Mom was helping to care for her ill Mother. We six girls were sitting Indian-fashion in a circle on Mom and Dad's bed puffing home-grown white burley rolled up in catalog paper. Some of us had tears in our eyes and were a bit ill. I must say I never liked cigarettes. I did try years later when 4- I worked in the shipyard. The only ones allowed a rest when we were in training were the smokers. They got time out to smoke, so for nine days, a friend and I smoked. The day our training ended we had our last cigarettes. I never missed them.

After the work and the dishes were finished at home we played until dark We played hide-and seek and we rolled downhill in a metal wagon-wheel rim. Have you often wondered how we survived? We also walked in the woods a lot. We had played house trees and swung on grapevine swings. In the play-house trees, different branches were different rooms. We played with clay dolls and farm animals made with  different colors of clay, and also with paper dolls cut from Sears and Montgomery Wards catalogs. I really enjoyed church. We went every Sunday. Sometimes our father went with us. As I look back on why our mother didn't go often, I think that the work of raising such a large family was very hard in those primitive times and she felt she had to have a hot dinner for us when we got home. A lot of times she made a good egg custard or pudding which she stretched with bread in it. To this day a hot custard is one of my favorites.

I still remember a lot of things I learned as a child. One in particular I repeat to myself when I feel tired, depressed or let down: "Little drops of water, little grains of sand, make a mighty ocean, and a great big land." Can't is a word I leave out of my vocabulary. With God's help, all things are possible. The impossible just takes longer. I also memorized Psalm 121, which is my favorite, and today is still a great inspiration for me.

We all sang a little. I had a good alto until I was twelve or thirteen, then my voice cracked--like a boy's--and was no good ever again.

During the Depression, Dad signed on a note for a neighbor's debt and wound up having to pay for it. The debt took him away from home and put him into a coal mine in Glady, where he could make more money, both for the debt and for support of the family

I loved school, although it was hard for me. We went to a one-room schoolhouse and I was the only one in my class. I was usually put into the class ahead of or behind me. I never really knew which it would be from day to day. Luckily, I loved to read, and read everything I got my fingers on.

One year, Marie built the fires at school, for which she was paid a small salary. She bought Ruby and me our first dolls--ten-inch ceramic, and I loved it! Finally, a dream come true.

I wanted to go to high school so badly, but Mom never had the eleven dollars for my books, so I went to work for two sisters, Zetta Mick and Rhoda Rawlson, for $1.50 a week. I thought I was rich! From there I went to Clarksburg and did housework for a few months then I went into restaurant work, where I spent most of my remaining working years. I decided once to go to secretarial school which I did for six months at Baltimore Business College. I found out that for that time I could not live on a secretary's pay so restaurant work was the way for me to go. I really love meeting new people and have met some great ones in restaurant work--actors, actresses, ball players, politicians, artists--and Elvis!

Our Christmases as children were a bit strange when compared to Christmases today. We got candy in our stockings and on especially good years there was an orange Easter was the only day we got all of the eggs we wanted to eat. I remember one Easter Sunday when Mom put together eggs, ham, bread and some other good things and everyone went to the top of the hill for a cook-out. I remember Earle Steele brought his guitar and played music. Lyle Pritt was there. I was around six years old and he asked me to marry him when I grew up. I told him that in 1980 he would he my fourth husband! He went on to marry a pretty girl and lived happily with her.

There was only one time at home when I felt mistreated. I was around thirteen years old. We were stringing beans for canning and there was a mountain of them in the living room floor--at least ten bushel. Mom, Ruby, Marie, Koots and I were stringing. Everyone was tired. Somehow Ma asked Ruby if she was afraid of her and Ruby said, "No." Mom cracked her with a stick of wood. Then she asked me if I was afraid of her and I said, "No, Mom, I am not supposed to be afraid of you." She started to hit me and I took the stick away from her I ran out and spent the night under the house. At daylight I went to bed, and, sure enough, Ma gave me a smack on the butt. It took me a lot of years to realize she was just tired from so much work, trying to care for so many kids without Dad's help.

Our meals were just plain food, but well cooked. My mother made the best biscuits ever made. The Depression was bad, but we had enough food and did not go hungry.

There wasn't much money for clothes. We had one pair of shoes a year--boy's shoes--they lasted longer We wore them from late October until April, then it was barefoot time. Mom repaired the heels and the soles of the shoes for us. The last is stilt here on the farm.

I enjoyed going out into the world and making a living. I liked being able to buy Mom and Dad nice things. I bought Dad's dress shoes from the Baltimore police department store. He liked the shiny, black soft leather and hard toes for his dress shoes. I also bought him a pretty grey suit in the late forties. He was buried in that suit. Maybe I was telling them "thank you" for my being. Anyway, I loved them very much. I also bought Mom all the appliances I could to make life easier for her.

I remember my childhood with love and respect. Mother and Dad were good parents. I think our being brought up as we were made me aware of what it took to survive--to put away for tomorrow, to be prepared.

To me, this is home. Wherever I go I have a need to return, to belong. There are places here I need to visit--special niches where I talk to God, reminisce, and just think. A special place in the sun that is just mine. I feel God put the little birds and animals here just for me. I will always come back to the Hollow." It is home.

Welcome home to the whole family. I love each and every one of you. Nieces and nephews, you are just one of the family. just one of the kids that belong in the hollow.
     Come home to West Virginia. Come home to love.

BY BONNIE JEAN FLINT DROZDZ MITCHEM b. 8-23-1924 /d.
6th Born to John & Tina
Married: John Drozdz
2nd.  7-10-1963  Alva Mitchem
Children: Linda Mitchem
Michael Mitchem

                                                    Umm, ummmm
Would you just look at them blackberries--
                                                    Juicy and fat
                                                    Set out the lard and flour.

   One of you young'uns run up there on the hill
And milk Buck's cow. Don't take it all now,
                                                    And he'll never know.

       We're going to have blackberry cobbler tonight!

BY BARBARA BELLE BROWN WILSON b. 5-11-1939
 1st Born to Ocie & Frank Brown

BY DONNA LOUISE BLAKE MAHONEY
1st Born to Marie & Marvin

I remember sad times, bad times, hard times and good times, but they all become pale because the love I had and still have for Mommy and Dad outweighs them all. When I think of them, all I can think of is loving them.

They both lived 67 years, and here I am, racking my brain to try to think of something to say about them- You would think 67 years would bring forth some remembrance, wouldn't you? I guess the happiest times were after Mom and Dad moved to the 168 acre farm (which Dad thought was 50 acres) in 1970. I went to the lawyer's office with them when the papers were signed and Dad couldn't believe he had just bought that many acres. He just laughed about what an good deal he got--and he really did

As we were growing up, Mom was the one to keep everything in order Monday--washing, Tuesday-- ironing, Wednesday--dusting, Thursday or Saturday-- grocery shopping, Friday--mopping, Sunday--resting and a good pot roast dinner. When she moved to the farm I think all that went out the window. The routine, that is One time I saw a stack of Daddy's clothes in her bedroom needing ironing and I said to her, "Mom, I never saw you let clothes go unironed." She said, kind of laughing, that she just couldn't stand housework any more. She loved the hills, and I'm sure walked many miles in them when she wasn't doing that housework on the farm.

You couldn't be around Daddy without laughing. Some of the stories they told about the farm animals would make you roll with laughter. Dad told me one time he had gone to the little building to get corn to feed the chickens. He kept the corn in 30 or 40 gallon trash cans. He was standing there and a cat was standing next to him. When he took the lid off, the trash can was about empty, and in the bottom there was a little mouse. He picked the cat up and threw it into the can to get the mouse. It scared the cat so much, he forgot his job was to eat little mices (that's meeces), and it jumped out of the can and took up the front of Daddy's T-shirt and over the top of his bald head. Well, I just roared picturing that scene in my head. To this day I still laugh when I think about that story. I also loved playing setback with Daddy. You couldn't sit down on the back porch without him flipping cards at you. He wouldn't even look at his cards and shoot the moon, and don't you know, he would make it.

Dad would keep Mom going with his devilment, and always accusing her of snapping her brown eyes. Now I never heard of anyone snapping their eyes, but she did. There would be a bunch of us in the kitchen and Dad would look at one of us and wink and we knew he was going to get Mom started. No dinner she cooked was ever good enough: something was always wrong. We would agree with her how awful it was and keep on piggin' out.

My early years of work consisted of doing errands to help Mom out. As I got a little older. and before I was old enough for hard work, Bonnie, Stanton and I would carry water on the hills for the ones that worked in the fields. We would usually do that at 10:00 and at 2:30. That seemed hard to me.

I think we all got along well together--there wasn't time for anything else; we were too tired after a hard day's work.

We really had fun as children. I wish all children could be brought up on a farm and really see what life is all about. There wouldn't be so much trouble today. I thank God for the way I was brought up--hard life, lots of fun, and something you appreciate  and remember for the rest of your life

We pretty much paired off: Ocie and Fran, Marie and Koots1 me and Bonnie. Abe and Stanton didn't have anyone to pal with. As children we had playful times. We dammed us up a hole of water in summer time and would go get cooled off. We had a grape vine swing in the woods we would swing on. Stan, Bonnie and I played marbles. In the fall of the year when we made molasses some of the kids from the neighborhood came at night and sometimes we had a potato roast.

We all went to school in a one-room school house which is still standing. We all went to church. Marie and Koots used to sing at the Sunday night worship. They were real good.

I remember when I was real small, sometimes Mom would churn butter on Saturday. She would take some butter out and put it in a cup before she put salt in it. She would put it on my hair, which was blonde, then tie up my head for about one hour. Then after she washed my hair it was so pretty and silky after that treatment. On Sunday morning she would fix my hair and put a big bow in it for church. I never liked the bow, but I wore it.

We all went to school in a one-room school house, which is still standing. We had a mile to walk to get there We played a lot of games at school. We made our sleds and would ride off those hills up there. It's a wonder we weren't killed. Sometimes when it was real cold after school in the evening we would pour water all over the ground out front and the next morning we had a skating rink.

I can't remember much about the Depression years; I was too young. I guess clothes were the hardest to come by. I remember in the fall of the year Mom usually took us across the hill to Burnsville and got us a pair of shoes for winter and they had to last us until it was warm enough to go in bare feet. The Depression years didn't hurt our food line--we grew practically all we ate. We had our own corn to make corn meal, wheat to make flour for Mom's good biscuits, and we had cane for our sweet tooth. We had our own meat--pork, chicken, turkeys and rabbits. We would take eggs and butter to Burnsville to the store and set them to buy things we didn't grow, like salt, sugar and coffee.

One of my fondest memories down on the farm with Mom and Dad is after we would have dinner and get the dishes done, we would go out on the porch and sit in the swing drinking a cup of coffee and just enjoying the beautiful hills and each other's company and watching for the deer to come out.

They are missed greatly. Oh. the glory of happiness and love!

BY DONNA LOUISE BLAKE MAHONEY
1st Born to Marie & Marvin
 Children of Marie & Marvin: Donna
                                                 Dana
                                                 Marvin
                                                 Roger
                                                 Marcia

One summer, my girlfriend, Charlotte, and I went down to the farm and spent two or three weeks with Grandma and Grandpa. I don't remember doing much but running the hills and playing in the creeks. And, of course, sneaking a smoke.

One day, as usual, Grandma was out under the cellar peeling potatoes or apples for dinner. She had the ol' toboggin on her head--navy blue, I think--and a cat was sitting there by her chair, just looking up at her and meowing its head off. I remember saying something to her and taking off.

The next day or two I didn't see the cat around, so I asked Grandma if she knew where it had gone. Again, she was sitting out under the cellar, and she got that cute little grin on her mouth. She said, "Donna, I had just about all of that cat's meowing I could take, so I just hit it in the head with a hammer" I said, Grandma, you really didn't do that, did you?" and she said, "Deed, I did."

I lust couldn't believe may sweet little old grandma had a streak in her like that. God only knows where she put the cat. I didn't ask. I may have had it for dinner! HA, HA!

BY DONNA LOUISE BLAKE MAHONEY  b. 6-25-1940

We always had a good Christmas. We went to the hills and got a tree then made our decorations for it and strung popcorn for it. Dad always tried to get us a little something for Christmas-- a pair of stockings which was needed, an orange, a few pieces of candy. We knew we didn't have money for gifts, so we never really expected anything. Christmas to us was going out caroling to the older people. They always gave us a treat, hot cocoa and a cookie. In the winter we made popcorn balls and taffy. We usually had a good Christmas dinner. Sometimes Dad could afford one or two pints of oysters for a stew and some oyster crackers. Like I said, we never went hungry and most everyone lived like we did. The people in town didn't eat as good as we did because they didn't have farms. We grew up to not be wanting things, or at least I did. I am thankful for that throughout the year, and especially now. My wants are very small. I guess everyone lived a lot like we did--some a little better and some a little worse.

The first store-bought toy I ever had was a china doll about eight or nine inches tall. Marie worked at school in the evenings as a janitor, I guess you would call it. She bought me and, I believe, Bonnie one. Mack bought me another one in 1946 after we were married. I still have it.

One of my memories as a teenager--and I don't remember exactly how old I was at the time--was when Bonnie stayed with two ladies at Burnsville and I went up there to spend the night with her. We went up to town after dark and the street lights were on. I thought it was the most beautiful sight.

I think we had the most wonderful parents in the world. And I think the main reason I like to go back to the hollow is, it was home. It holds a lot of memories of my childhood, and it brings back memories of my time with Dad and Mom. Regardless of how far I lived away from them, I was always ready to go home at any time I had the chance, and they were happy to see us when we came. If we got in at two or three in the morning, they always got up, and if we were hungry, Mom fixed us something to eat.

BY RUBY EARNESTINE FLINT STRALEY  b.1-29-1926 /d.
7th Born to John and Tina
married: 11-13-1944  Mack Straley
Children: Sharon
             Mack  Jr.

I remember Grandpa coming to town with his gray hat and flannel shirt and a bucketful of eggs to take to Marple's to sell.

I can see Granny and me sitting on the sofa. She has a pan of water into which she is putting her peeled and cut potatoes. She peers down the holler, straining her eyes to get the first glimpse of a visitor. I touch the lower part of her upper arm and marvel at the softness. She had the softest skin of any grandmother in the world.

I remember walking up the holler with Grandpa. He would stop at the barn and his eyes would scan the hillsides even though the adults said he was almost blind. Then he would take out his tobacco pouch and take a pinch. He always offered me same, then we continued up the Blake holler. I always walked behind him, never beside him. I guess the paths were just not wide enough.

I loved having "soakies" at Granny's. Everyone knows what they are. Recently I have started having them again and although Stewart thinks it's good reliving my memories, he has yet to join in!

Ann was my best friend growing up and we usually did everything together. We liked to smoke too, and when my mother and Ocie had a good smoke day we would take the butts out of the ashtrays and she, Buggs and I would have our smokes.

Dirty tricks? You bet! One time Buggs filled a large flower, a dahlia, I think, with black pepper and brought it to me telling me what a wonderful aroma it had. "Take a deep sniff," he said. I sneezed and sneezed! He got several people that day, including his mom.

Another time, I was washing dishes at Granny's. Dick had a soda but it was too warm to drink. After much debate, he bribed me into taking the soda to the creek for him. The cool running water would cool the warm soda, and meantime he would finish the dishes for me. When I got back, Dick was gone, but the dishes were still there.

I remember sitting around the table at Granny's at night with the lights real dim. The adults would be drinking coffee and smoking, and every once in a while one of them would lift the cloth that was covering the food and take a pinch of the "vittles."

When I was growing up our vacations were usually spent going back to the holler. It was exciting then and for some reason, it's exciting still.

SHARON ELAINE STRALEY ROBERTS  b. 4-8-1945
1st Born to Ruby & Mack
married: 6- 1969 Gerald Whitehead
 2nd.  Wiley Roberts
Children: Stephen Whitehead

When we moved to Burnsville around 1950, Granny lived in town there near us. Because of that I used to get six meals a day. I would eat breakfast at our house then go to Granny's and she would feed me. She said I was too skinny. She used to make the best biscuits. She and Grandpa had a restaurant in Burnsville. Later they moved back to the farm on Hyer's Run and after that, I'd go and spend my summers with them. I was so tiny Granny used to call me "Little Ann." She had Mom get me some S.S.S. tonic to try to make me grow. Dick had another name for it.

One summer I was at the farm with Granny and Grandpa and I got up before they did and started cooking breakfast. Grandpa went to the bedroom and said, "Ma! get up. Ann is cooking and she never washed her hands!"

We would walk out of the hollow and go to Hyer's Run church then walk back home. Grandpa never worked on Sunday. That is the only time I'd ever see him sit around any.

Buggs, Sharon and I used to hide in the hog weeds by the river and smoke. Mom used to say, "Don't do as I do; do as I say. Don't smoke--and if I see one in your mouth I'll knock it down your throat." When all of us cousins used to get together we'd play hide and seek or kick the can. We all didn't get together too often.

Mom never made us do much work around the house. Barbara and I did do dishes. She always sang or hummed and I'd get mad because I'd have to help and she would sing "To be H A P P Y you must S M I L E" and by the time we were done I’d be singing.

We went on the hill once and had a picnic at the farm at Stout's Mill and we came through the meadow on the way home. There was a haystack there and we decided to climb up and slide down it--and we did, until we nearly ruined it. Then we went home. On Sunday when Dad went to feed the cows he came home with a switch. We lied and told him we had to climb the haystack because the cows had chased us. He said, "Oh, no--there aren't any cows in the meadow." So we all got switched except Dennis, who was too small, and then we went to church.

When we lived in Burnsville, Aunt Ruby and her family lived across the street. She used to let us come over and watch TV because we didn't have one. Sometimes she'd fix steak and French fries and invite us over to eat. We thought that was really special. We also learned about pizza at her house.

Once in grade school, Buggs and a few other boys made a wooden raft. The river was behind our house and the school building was on the other side of the river. One morning Mom looked out the window and and Buggs and I were going across the river on the raft to get to school. It was a real shortcut for us, but almost a heart attack for her. She hollered and said, "You kids get off that thing!" So we went on to school.

Once, white we were at Granny Flint's and I was trying to learn to tell time that when I learned to do it he would buy me a watch. So when I was 12 I learned and for Christmas I got my first watch. It was a round-faced one with a green rim around it and a green band.

Christmas was my favorite holiday when we were young- Once Dad got a man to dress up in a red suit and play Santa for us at Stout's Mill. It was probably Red Hickman, a neighbor of ours. He came across Mom's waxed floor on a steel-runner sled. She wasn't too happy about that! One other time we got a red wagon. Mostly we got candy and nuts and things we didn't grow ourselves. When we got older, holidays were better when we all would get together after not seeing one another for a while.

Later on, we moved to Ohio and Aunt Ruby's family moved to California so we didn't see each other for a while. We got to know our dad better when we moved to Ohio. He had worked away from home a long time. When I was 17 Mom gave me a birthday party--first one I ever got.

Once on Mom's birthday I got Mrs. Baldauf to come down and take her up the street to Mrs. White's. I fixed a large party for her. When it was about ready to start they walked down the street with hen She started up the steps and turned and said, "Y'aIl might as well come in." They pushed her into the house and we all sang "Happy Birthday" She was shocked. She sat down and put her head in her hands and said, "Ann, I ought to whip you!" But she didn't.

We never fussed over any food we had to eat as kids. Dad would say, "You all hush and let your load fill your mouth," or "Eat what is put before you," so we did. Mom used to make hot biscuits and applesauce and we would put lots of butter on it, but Dad put cottage cheese on his. I remember that Aunt Marie used to make good brown beans. When we lived in Baltimore we used to get crab and lobster and Dad said I could eat it faster than he could pick it out of the shell. I still love it.

After I finished school and left home I went to Atlanta and worked for Emory University Hospital. Sharon and I got an apartment together Every summer when I'd go home to visit Mom and Dad, I'd go see Aunt Marie and Uncle Marvin.

I got married in July of 1966 in Atlanta. Lisa was born the following year and Greg in 1969. Their father and I divorced in 1971. Soon after that I moved to Michigan.

In 1982 I met the most wonderful man--Bob Williford. We got married in 1983 and the past ten years have been the best years of my life except when I was a child and someone else did my thinking for me.

When I first went to Michigan I wasn't sure how Barbara and I would get along. At first she was afraid she would have to look after me. She didn't. But we got to know each other as adults then and got to be close. I must say, she's a pretty wonderful sister Once I had to have surgery and I was scared, but she was there for me. Not only are we sisters, but now we are friends, too.

I love my mother more than life itself. By the time you read this, she will be living with me. If there was love in this world like I have for her, you'd think you were in heaven. There aren't enough words to express how I feel about my mother She's always there to listen, she's fun, she loves to work in the garden, and she loves Dairy Queens. At least once a week she gets one in the summer.

(Editorial note: Ann's dear husband, Bobby had a heart attack in early April when they went to Atlanta to get Ocie and move her up to Michigan. At this writing he is making good progress toward healing. We thank God for that.)

I like going back to the holler because of such good memories of Granny and Grandpa living there. I remember how we used to walk up the holler and see Granny sitting there on the porch with her glasses down on her nose, an apron on over her dress, and a handkerchief on her head. She'd be churning butter or stringing beans or peeling potatoes for dinner. She always made three meals a day and baked bread no matter how hot it was. I guess I'd like to think I could go walking back up that path and see her sitting there on the porch again.

BY REBECCA ANN BROWN CROOK WILLIFORD  b. 3-12-1943  /d.
2nd. Born to Ocie & Frank
married: Charles Cook
2nd.  Bobby Williford
Children: Lisa Crook
Gregory Crook

In Loving Memory by his sister, Donna Blake Mahoney

To tell you the truth, the only dirty trick I can remember was when I was in high school and I had been playing in a band and we decided to go to the Battle of the Bands and play some music that another member of the band and I had written. We told the other members what song we were going to play. Our drummer came over and said that we couldn't play that song. When we asked why not he looked so sad
and said, "Because I already sold it to another group.

I couldn't remember trying to learn to smoke so Mother helped me out by telling me that my cousin, Denny, and I started smoking in Burnsville when we were around three years old. We were sitting down by the bank of the river and we decided we would have a cigarette just like the older folks did.

Church was real nice. My sister, Sharon, and I would go. I used to be a real good singer and a pretty good self-taught guitar player I used to be in the WILD CHILDREN, the FOR RENT BAND, the KILROY BAND and SHOCK WAVE.

My worst memories are of the time I was shot and have been in a wheelchair ever since, then my father was in Vietnam and was wounded and sent home again. Christmas was always great. You got up early to rush to the Christmas tree and open up your presents and see what everyone got. It was one of the best days of the year The other holidays were special, too1 because you got to be with your loved ones.

BY MACK WILLIAM STRALEY II.  b. 3-8-1950
2nd. Born to Ruby & Mack

Hi I am at Granny Brown's. We had enough fun to last a lifetime. We talk about a lot of things. She wants me to help you write a book so I am going to try to help you with the book.

I do remember when Iwas at Granny Brown's house in West Virginia. I was about five or six years old. I think I was playing cowboy. Granny and Lisa were tying out in the sun. I ran around the house several times and every time I ran around I would stop and shoot them. Then the next time I ran around I picked up a rock and threw it and hit Granny in the corner of her eye. She got up and chased me down the road and caught me and she gave me a good old-fashioned licking on the rear-end! That is the only time Granny ever whipped me. I learned my lesson not to throw rocks  any more.

It was very unfortunate that Lisa and I were born deaf, but I don't let it bother me much and Lisa would do the same. I am very proud of my mom for not giving up. Lisa and I are the only two children of Rebecca Williford. I am very grateful for having a mother like her. I know I stayed with her only when I was a baby. I don't have that many memories of her. I do go to see her during holidays and I went to visit her most
Christmases.

Every time I go see my mom she greets me with a a big short hug and big short kisses at the airport. Mom always has somebody with her at the airport.

I can remember when Lisa was getting married. It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw when Mom was so happy to see her only girl getting married. I will remember the way she was smiling and crying at the same time.

Well, that's all I can remember for now.

BY GREGORY CROOK  b. 4-3-1969
2nd Born to Ann & Charles Crook
  Rebecca Ann  (Brown ), (Crook), Williford
Children: Gregory
                Lisa

When I was young we used to spend part of the summer at my Grandma Brown's farm in West Virginia. By "we" I mean my second cousin, Matthew Blake, and I. We didn't know what second cousins really were, and we didn't care. Matt would tease me that I was his "brain-removed" cousin. It was my tenth summer, and one in which I would learn a lesson.

The things we did to amuse ourselves on those hot summer days were no less fun for their simplicity: picking raspberries, poking sticks down snake holes, and capturing crawdads were just a few of the things we did to pass the time. To earn a little pocket money for ventures into town, we would pick June bugs off garden plants and morning glory bushes. Grandpa gave us five cents apiece for them.

One muggy, wet morning I was awakened earlier than usual by my Grandma. She was going down the road a ways to see my Aunt Hazel and Uncle Hugh.

"Why don't you come with me?" she asked.

"No, thanks," I answered with conviction. This wasn't my idea of the way to begin my day.

I crawled out of the sofa-bed with the agility of a ten-year-old, bumping one knobby, brown knee into the sharp metal corner of the foldout. This happened to me nearly every morning, and to this day I have scarred knees.

I dressed quickly in cutoff jeans and a Sean Cassidy T-shirt. I remember that shirt well because my mom was cruel enough to save it for me. Mothers have uncanny foresight, and seem to know what things will make you cringe years later when rummaging through memorabilia.

I brushed my long, straight hair and fixed it into a pony tail. I also brushed my teeth even though I hadn't eaten. My mom often told me I would look like Grandpa without his choppers if I didn't brush plenty

As I entered the small dining room, I approached my Grandfather. "Hi, Grandpa," I shouted at him, playfully punching him on the arm and rousing him out of his preoccupation. "Well, and a good morning to you, Miss Jennifer," he growled, his watery eyes lighting up behind his thick, foggy bifocals.

Every morning my Grandpa sat smoking Pall Malls with knotty, twisted, farmer's hands as he gazed out at his property The Browns lived in a "holler" on several acres of untamed , mountainous land, except for the two acres of farmed ground. My grandpa would drive off to Glenville in the late morning in his pickup truck. When we asked Grandma where Grandpa went, she would say he was going into town to buy new batteries for his pacemaker We didn't believe her. Well, not really. We didn't like to go with Grandpa because he drove too fast and way too close to the edge of the road, which had several sharp drop-offs into the creek. I loved my Grandpa, though. He told ghost stories, had a good collection of shotguns, and said " Well, I'll be," a lot.

I entered my grandma's warm, clean kitchen and was pleased to smell the chocolate scent of CoCo Wheats cooking on the gas stove. She always made two batches for breakfast because I liked mine lumpy and Matthew did not. Matt, my elder by one year. was already seated at the modest, formica-topped table. He was a cool kid with brown skin, spiky blond hair, and he was quite wonderful at creating new and original ways to get into trouble. "The creek's floodedl" he exclaimed, regarding me with his steady, devilish blue gaze.

"Really?" I responded with excitement, taking my cue from his enthusiasm. "Grandma, can we go see?"

"You two eat your breakfast and just hold tight to your britches. I want you both to stay inside today. That crick's running too high and too fast, and it's muddier than the devil. I'll not have you being swept off and drowned--or worse, tracking mud through my house."

I looked at Grandma quickly to see if she was joking us. One look confirmed my dismay: Grandma Brown was serious. Matt and I looked at each other with what could only have been expressions of puce grief. But Matthew's frown could not disguise what I knew we were both thinking. Grandma wouldn't be here--she was going down the road to Hazel and Hugh's, and Grandpa had already set out for town.

Grandma Brown was a feisty, stubborn woman. One could do better than to cross her A small woman she was, with dark graying hair, heavy-lidded brown eyes, and all wrinkles built on the foundation of her smile--I had yet to learn respect for this strong woman of the hills.

Matt and I concealed our mischievous thoughts as well as we could throughout our breakfast of hot cereal, milk, toast and bacon. One thing can be said for grandmothers: they can make anything taste good. They could probably make a rice cake taste good. Grandma drank coffee and busied about, washing pans, feeding Trixie and checking the cellar for a jar of jam for Hazel and Hugh. My grandma liked to sing funny hillbilly songs and did she have the voice for it!

  Oh Jenny. Oh Jenny
  What makes you so fat?
  A piece of a tater,
  A tail of a rat!

That voice comes clear and loud to me even now as I read her letters. Gruff but sweet, twangy yet melodical. She grew the biggest, sweetest strawberries in Glenville, and she could hit a target dead-on from 100 yards away.

Matt and I finished eating and brought our dishes to the sink. Then we were allowed to sit out on the covered cement porch where Grandma could keep her eye on us while she was getting ready to leave. There we rough-housed for a while, Trixie watching us casually from where she ay on an old vinyl chair. Some evenings we would watch as my grandpa removed ticks from her fur. I guess I never questioned the
ticks' "right to life" as I was very fond of Trixie.

Finally Grandma appeared at the screen, dressed to go. She wore thick brown stacks, a flannel shirt and high rubber boots. The boots were symbolic of two occasions. Today was for the mud. She also wore them without fail when picking corn from the garden. One day she thought that a corn stalk was twisted around her pantleg as she picked. Later she went to brush it off while shucking the corn. She discovered it was a snake wrapped quite contentedly around her leg. Although that particular snake was harmless it met its death that day. My grandma does not care for snakes one iota.

"Now, I'm going down the road a bit. You two kids come on in here and play a game or something. I made you some peanut butter cookies. You can color or read or take out the playdough. But stay away from the crick, you hear? Grandmas have eyes in the backs of their heads. We'll take a walk up the holler and look at the flood when I get home." And with that promise-tinged warning, Grandma was gone. off down the road.
We were out the door ten minutes later, not being two to waste stolen time. Aunt Hazel's wasn't that far down the road anyway.

The air in West Virginia is unlike any other I've ever breathed. After two days of heavy rain, the smell was earthy and pure. The grass and garden were wet and green. Glistening stalks of corn were bowed in submission to the torrents of water which had beat them low and hard. My grandparents' simple home was built in the foreground of a "hollow," a kind of cavity in between two great rising hills. If you yelled
up the hollow you could hear your voice echo and reverberate.

Now Matt and I made our way up this hollow, our tennis shoes slurping and squishing through the soft, pliant ground. Trixie trotted alongside us, oblivious to the nature of our crime. In fact, she was panting with her tongue hanging out and to me it looked like a conspiratorial smile. To our left was the flooded creek, racing noisily past us in the opposite direction. It started somewhere up on the mountainside to our right and ended somewhere I'd never seen. All I knew of Holt's Run was that it went through and across my grandparents' immediate property.

This creek was, by all accounts, a well-mannered one, the vision of peace, trickling lazily over rocks and running between banks of sandstone and clay. Today, however, the creek was an unfamiliar sight. It was high, quick and muddy. To our right was the garden where Grandma grew corn, squash, beans, berries, cabbages, tomatoes, and a number of other good things to eat.

We passed the garden and reached the spot where the creek crossed the path, pouring noisily down the mountainside. The raspberry patch was also located here. I eyed the angry creek nervously. "Let's pick some berries," I suggested, fearing that Matt would attempt to lead us across the flooded creek. We stopped and tasted a few, Matt stuffing them into his mouth as fast as he could pick them; I being more cautious, checking for bugs. Once Matt had had the idea of taking raspberries back to Grandma so we could have them in cream for dessert. We didn't have anywhere to put them except in our pockets. I don't think Grandma understood our good intentions that day.

Matt soon tired of this activity. though, and approached the edge of the creek. The whole rock's covered upi" he yelled. The rock to which he referred was the large flat one that lay out in the creek, which, when not buried in water, allowed one to walk across the creek. It was big enough for two to sit on, and if you reached into the water and chose colored stones--green, blue, orange--you could write and draw on the rock. Grandma had taught us this trick, and it never lost its magic. We were not allowed to go beyond this point without Grandma or Grandpa.

          "I think we should cross," announced Matt firmly.

          "Well, I don't know; it's awfully quick, I replied.

          "C’mon. Don't be a scaredy-cat. I won't let you fall," Matt said bravely.
"I won't fall," I protested indignantly, all tomboy bravado. But I latched on to his arm anyway. Our first shaky steps were cautious, then more assured. The water reached almost up to my knees, but we got to the other side, and I stepped with relief onto the safety of the ground.

We had taken no more than a dozen steps to the right when it happened. A sudden rustle and a snap startled us, and led our eyes to its terrifying source. No more than a foot in front of us was a very large, very angry copperhead. We knew it was a copperhead because Grandma had shown us a picture of one in the encyclopedia and told us to "keep our eyes peeled for snakes." Copperheads do not coil or warn like a rattlesnake. They merely draw the front part of their body off the ground into an S-shape when preparing to strike. This snake had been driven out of its home by the flooding rains. He was in a nasty mood, and was just as startled by our presence as were we by his.

The next few seconds were suspended as if being shown in slow-motion, frame-by-frame sequence. I was aware of a violent hiss, a forked black tongue darting speedily in and out of an alarmingly wide-open mouth. I was conscious of my cousin, Matt, frozen in fear beside me. I was cognizant of the drumming in my head, the rushing of blood through my veins, the tingling sensation of my skin. I was feeling the most complete fear of my entire life. Why did we do this? I thought frantically. Where was Trixie. I knew the danger of poisonous snakes around here. Grandmas warned us all the time, and today I had ignored her well-meant warnings.

The snake, in a sudden, desperate move, drew back even further. In two seconds he would strike!   BLAST!

I heard the sound in the back of my mind, and stood there, bewildered, stunned, unsure of what had happened. Was I bitten? Was I dying. Could I be DEAD?

As the haze lifted, I realized the snake lay dead at my feet. I turned to the right and saw my grandma--toting a .22 rifle, running toward Matthew and me. She had taken that snake clean out from fifty feet away.

"Are you okay?" Grandma screamed, shaking me by the shoulder. Is either one of you bit?" I was too dazed to speak.

"She's okay: we're okay. By gosh, Aunt Ocie--the snake, you got the snake! It woulda got us. Holy cow!" Matt regained his vocality quickly. Grandma had to shake and hug me. I was in partial shock.

We crossed back over the creek and waited while Grandma got the hoe out of the shed. She went back and used it to carry the snake back across the still raging creek She pressed the hoe into the snake's neck and pointed out to us the inch-long fangs and the big round sacs of venom. Then she tossed it onto the rotting garbage pile I felt sick.

Later, we received our lecture. Grandma knew we would be up to no good, and had decided to cut her visit short in order to check on us. Grandmother's intuition had said its piece. Luckily her fear of snakes had led her to realize the potential abundance of snakes driven out by the rain. At the last second, she had grabbed her rifle as a precaution.

When Grandpa came home, Grandma and Matt told him about what had happened. "Well, I'll be!" was all he said. Grandma watched me closely the rest of the day. She knew I had never been so scared in all my life, and she knew the effect the sight on any snake would have on me ever after I believe she hoped to change that effect, and took us out on excursions into the hills often the remainder of the summer. But I never had the desire to disobey my grandma again. I learned a great respect for her that I had not had before.

The next summer would be mine and Matthew's last . At the ages of twelve and thirteen, we became fundamentally unable to leave our friends for six weeks at a time-- not for the creek, or the fireflies, or the peanut-butter cookies.

My grandma still lives in the holler, her eyes blurred by cataracts, her aim a little off. But she still knows what I'm up to--she can read between the lines in the letters we exchange. And, after all, she has eyes in the back of her head.

BY JENNIFER AUDRA CRAMER (1991) b. 11-4-2968
2nd Born to Barbara & Ronald Cramer