The last time I stood on the hill in Bridgeport was for Grandad's funeral in December of 1988. It was VERY cold and snowy. My cousin Randy had forgotten to bring a coat, I walked up behind him and wrapped my coat around us in an attempt to help him get warm.
Randy is now gone; the first of the first cousins to die. He died of a quick, nasty Viet Nam induced cancer. Man's inhumanity to man continues throughout the generations.
Two and a half years ago, the same company of folks gathered in Parkersburg for Dad's memorial service. He was the second of Guy and Jessie's offspring to go.
A week ago Monday we stood next to Guy and Jessie's graves beside Loretta's casket, the opening of another Ashby plot on the hill. I stood with my arm around Rodney next to the grave of his son Christopher.
I looked across at the uncles and aunt and thought of the families represented there. Somewhere in the same cemetery, Mom and Preacher Idleman are buried. The Ashby/Idleman roots are deep and widespreading. We have done a reasonably good job of staying close, although now we typically gather only for funerals.
As Dawn and I drove through Bridgeport over that weekend, I realized how much a part of my life was tied to the little town. Because Mom and Dad moved so often, the farm in Bridgeport was always a solid tie for us. Just yesterday I was telling someone a farm story. At Loretta's funeral, several people told "Egg" stories about Guy and his eggs.
Someday [when Debi is ready to let them go ;0 ], we will take June and Hugh to the same hill in Bridgeport, WV, and their lives will also be noted with a marker.
Standing on a hill in West Virginia remembering a strong, wonderful family helps the roots continue to grow deeper.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
A Life of One's Own
Dawn and I are in Bridgeport, WV, for my Aunt Loretta Ashby's funeral tomorrow. Visitation at the funeral home today was from 2 to 4 and 6 to 8. People started lining up at the funeral home at 1:45 and the lines continued through 4 pm. Life under Jessie Ashby had to be difficult; no woman was ever good enough for an Ashby man. Lil and Bill escaped to Indiana in the 1950s; but when Tom and Loretta married they moved in at the farm. Loretta was under Jessie's constant scrutiny, and was expected to be a full-fledged farmer's wife.
Loretta worked incredibly hard in the barns and chicken coops. As Guy and Jessie aged, Tom and Loretta became increasingly responsible for them. And indeed moved to Corbin Branch Road to care for them. It was not an easy existence.
Loretta was able to create her own identity away from the farm. The stories I heard today were of a woman who would spend the night with a dying neighbor so she wouldn't be alone, who worked diligently with the 4-Hers in Bridgeport, who became a well-respected member of the Farm Women's group of West Virginia. A compassionate neighbor who all but adopted a neighbor girl who disparately needed to be loved and cared for.
Jessie accused my mother of tricking Dad into marrying her by getting pregnant. Mom and Dad had a short courtship and married in Texas away from the scrutiny of the family. When Mom had a miscarriage 5 months into the marriage, Jessie felt vindicated that this stranger from Ohio had tricked her son. Only 40 years later could Jessie tell my mother that she had been a good influence on Dad.
I will never know what actually went on between Jessie and Loretta, but today I learned that despite all odds, Loretta was able to become her own woman outside the confines of the farm.
Since I was able to do the same thing in my own first marriage, through my church and through my college, I have the utmost respect for Loretta Sayres Ashby.
Loretta was trapped by a very angry kind of Alzheimers. With her death at merely 72, she is freed from her earthly body and I know she is soaring with Eagle's wings for now and forever.
Loretta worked incredibly hard in the barns and chicken coops. As Guy and Jessie aged, Tom and Loretta became increasingly responsible for them. And indeed moved to Corbin Branch Road to care for them. It was not an easy existence.
Loretta was able to create her own identity away from the farm. The stories I heard today were of a woman who would spend the night with a dying neighbor so she wouldn't be alone, who worked diligently with the 4-Hers in Bridgeport, who became a well-respected member of the Farm Women's group of West Virginia. A compassionate neighbor who all but adopted a neighbor girl who disparately needed to be loved and cared for.
Jessie accused my mother of tricking Dad into marrying her by getting pregnant. Mom and Dad had a short courtship and married in Texas away from the scrutiny of the family. When Mom had a miscarriage 5 months into the marriage, Jessie felt vindicated that this stranger from Ohio had tricked her son. Only 40 years later could Jessie tell my mother that she had been a good influence on Dad.
I will never know what actually went on between Jessie and Loretta, but today I learned that despite all odds, Loretta was able to become her own woman outside the confines of the farm.
Since I was able to do the same thing in my own first marriage, through my church and through my college, I have the utmost respect for Loretta Sayres Ashby.
Loretta was trapped by a very angry kind of Alzheimers. With her death at merely 72, she is freed from her earthly body and I know she is soaring with Eagle's wings for now and forever.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Lose-A-Palooza or Lose for Good
Today September 15, Weight Watchers is contributing $1 for each mention of the Lose for Good program. See Lose-A-Palooza for more information.
Beth
Beth
Monday, July 27, 2009
National Parks--National Treasures
This morning I was listening to a discussion about our National Parks on the Diane Rehm Show.
As usual on our travels, we hit several National Parks on our recent vacation: the Great Smoky Mountains, Cumberland Gap, Mammoth Cave, and the Stones River Civil War Battlefield in Tennessee. Over the years, we have hit several of the biggies--Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, the Grand Canyon, Mesa Verde, Canyonlands, and Arches. We have also hit several of the lesser known parks, such as the Black Canyon in Colorado, Theodore Roosevelt in North Dakota, Cumberland Gap, and Bandoleer in New Mexico.
No matter where we are, we are in awe of the majesty and variety of the United States. And we appreciate the work that is done in the National Parks. The knowledge and courtesy of the Park personnel. The facilities. The variety of opportunities in each park.
My very favoritest on this trip was Cumberland Gap. For one thing, it was quiet, very quiet. I don't recall hearing a single airplane while we were there. Tucked into the corners of Kentucky, Tennessee, and Virginia, the gap is nestled among tallish, soft Eastern-style mountains. This mountain girl felt protected and very much at home.
On Sunday when we went to the visitor center, we learned of a ranger-led trip up to the Hensley settlement, an early 20th century settlement that is much more like the 19th century. It was a slow day at the park, and it turned into a private tour for Dick and me.
The settlement consisted of one large extended family. It sits on the absolute top of the mountain, in Viriginia. It would have been a cold, wind-blown desolate place to live in the winter. But on this July day, it shone under the bright blue sky; the fields were green and lush.
We visited several of the remaining cabins and outbuildings on the property. The ranger pointed out lots of flora to us, including a few chestnut saplings, which unfortunately will not reach maturity because of the blight. I could have spent several hours hanging around taking photos and just being.
As usual on our travels, we hit several National Parks on our recent vacation: the Great Smoky Mountains, Cumberland Gap, Mammoth Cave, and the Stones River Civil War Battlefield in Tennessee. Over the years, we have hit several of the biggies--Yellowstone, the Grand Tetons, the Grand Canyon, Mesa Verde, Canyonlands, and Arches. We have also hit several of the lesser known parks, such as the Black Canyon in Colorado, Theodore Roosevelt in North Dakota, Cumberland Gap, and Bandoleer in New Mexico.
No matter where we are, we are in awe of the majesty and variety of the United States. And we appreciate the work that is done in the National Parks. The knowledge and courtesy of the Park personnel. The facilities. The variety of opportunities in each park.
My very favoritest on this trip was Cumberland Gap. For one thing, it was quiet, very quiet. I don't recall hearing a single airplane while we were there. Tucked into the corners of Kentucky, Tennessee, and Virginia, the gap is nestled among tallish, soft Eastern-style mountains. This mountain girl felt protected and very much at home.
On Sunday when we went to the visitor center, we learned of a ranger-led trip up to the Hensley settlement, an early 20th century settlement that is much more like the 19th century. It was a slow day at the park, and it turned into a private tour for Dick and me.
The settlement consisted of one large extended family. It sits on the absolute top of the mountain, in Viriginia. It would have been a cold, wind-blown desolate place to live in the winter. But on this July day, it shone under the bright blue sky; the fields were green and lush.
We visited several of the remaining cabins and outbuildings on the property. The ranger pointed out lots of flora to us, including a few chestnut saplings, which unfortunately will not reach maturity because of the blight. I could have spent several hours hanging around taking photos and just being.
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