Driving "Back Home" Thursday...

Thursday,  I'm driving back home to East Kentucky. I need a few days to visit friends and family after this challenging semester.I  left East Kentucky when I was 48 years old, so it's been home most of my life.I'll be alone on this drive and will think about home all the way

There is a spot just beyond Winchester, towards Stanton,  where the hills seem to rise out of the earth and the view is breathtaking. I have stopped at that spot for many years just to take in the majesty of the image. I always know I'm really driving down into the hills, not up the hills.

I'll ask my engineering friend how the foothills really emerged from the belly of the earth. Erosion? Eruption? From driving this for many years, I know the counties are 20 miles across. I wonder if this is an actual fact of the old English/Irish land division, or if it's only marked that way on my route. When I pass the exit to Royalton, I always look to the right and think, way back there, across several hills, is David, my coal camp home.


My grandchildren were always tolerant each time we passed Route 7 and I would retell the story of walking over the "new road" to the head of the Licking River (at Royalton) to celebrate the end of school each year.We packed, in little brown paper bags, Vienna sausages (Vi-eenies), potted meat, crackers, peanut butter sandwiches, or whatever Mother had for us.We climbed the hill and walked the road, too. At the top of the hill, we always got a drink of fresh water from the hand pump in the yard of someone's house there.

Daniel Boone spent his first winter in that region of David and wrote that it was "severe, and unfit for human habitation". Well, I guess we proved him wrong by living out our entire childhoods in David in little company houses that lined the base of the hills up all hollows and along the main road.

The Licking River site was once engineered by GW's crew as a possible gateway to the west. I hope East Kentucky children are learning the richness of their history and heritage. They would heighten their perception of our land as one of beauty and promise. The promise is still there. It lies in the youth and their willingness to learn from those who have gone before. We are only hampered if we limit their dreaming and don't help them make those dreams come true.

I miss driving through the little towns and sometimes detour for a scenic route. I like to see Oil Springs, Crockett, Moon, West Liberty, Salyersville and all the "real" places that have been supplanted with By-Passes.

Remember the hometown drive ins, freezer freshes, and our favorite, "EAT" at Stanton...from the highway, looking down into Stanton, we just saw a huge sign "EAT". They had upside down banana splits and the best hotdogs and hamburgers. We always stopped there. Now, we choose from McDonalds, Arbys, Hardy's, etc. which now make all By-passes look and taste just alike.

"I cannot leave these prisoning hills...being one with this earth, I cannot go"

from James Still's Heritage.

The hills can look desolate and barren in the winter. Coal dust and poverty paint a bleak picture. Of course poverty is everywhere. We have exhausted ways that people can make money working in coal and still respect the land and the safety of the miners. I believe we're making progress.For more than 100 years, Coal has been the only hope for the East Kentucky economy. I worked in the Appalachian coalfields for 15 years, My father worked for 35 years underground, My nephews worked  underground.

It's scary to not draw a paycheck, especially at Christmastime. These miners are great men who deserve their pay. They don't need to "back in to pick up their paycheck". I hope the EKY coal miners are receptive to ideas for a new and innovative approach to making a living in the coal fields

Tomorrow I'll post a picture of the view of the emerging mountains and a copy of James Still's Heritage. Yes, I'm melancholy, I'm homesick, I'm going home Thursday.

Dear Reader,

I finally found the writing I referred to last week. The writer is Dumal, not DuMaurier as I first said.

Rene Dumal is known for his spiritual search that involves true "seeing", real "seeing", objective "seeing. I have read his book, Mount Analogue, and was reminded by my brother Rodney, of his commentary on how reaching a summit might affect one's view of the world. I'd like to share Dumal's The Mountain Top with you.

The Mountain Top

When one has been to a mountain top

One has only to come down again

So why bother in the first place?

Just this....

One climbs...One sees

One descends...One sees no longer

But one has seen

There is an art of conducting oneself

in the lower regions

By the memory of what one saw higher up 

Rene Dumal

I think Dumal he uses the metaphor of the mountain to illustrate that when we experience higher or "finer" impressions we can use those--if we work at it-- to more honestly live in the world but not be constantly led by the world. We can serve something higher--if we have truly seen and truly remember.

I'd like to hear from you,
Peace,
Judy

Heritage by James Still

Heritage

by

James Still 

I shall not leave these prisoning hills
Though they topple their barren heads to level earth
And the forests slide uprooted out of the sky.

Though the waters of Troublesome, of Trace Fork,
Of Sand Lick rise in a single body to glean the valleys,
To drown lush pennyroyal, to unravel rail fences;
Though the sun-ball breaks the ridges into dust
And burns its strength into the blistered rock

I cannot leave. I cannot go away.

Being of these hills, being one with the fox
Stealing into the shadows, one with the new-born foal,
The lumbering ox drawing green beech logs to mill,
One with the destined feet of man climbing and descending,

And one with death rising to bloom again, I cannot go.

Being of these hills I cannot pass beyond

I've displayed an autographed version of Heritage in my home for years. It's among my favorite passages of all time. Still chose to live out his life in a log cabin in Mousie, Kentucky on Troublsome Creek to which he refers in the passage. Mousie is also the birthplace of my Mother, Nova Hicks. Still was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for his novel, River of Earth and served as Kentucky's Poet Laureate. One simply cannot equate illiteracy to log cabins.

I hope you enjoyed reading Heritage here.

Peace,
Judy

Happy Tears for the Rescued Miners in Chile & Salute to Underground Miners Everywhere

I'm watching the Chilean mine rescue de los 33 and have cried happy tears all morning. They're bringing up the 22nd man up right now. Did you hear about the 79 yr old retired miner whose son was down there? He went in the mine determined to get his son out, but had to give up because of the falling rock. Then he wanted to dynamite his way through...of course, he couldn't. Imagine his relief when the international team put together this the amazing "Fenix" in hopes of a miracle rescue.

Today, when his son came out....the father was in the hospital. I look forward to news coverage of their reunion. I relate to the families and their depth of despair at having a loved one trapped underground.

My father, Dawson E. Bussey (left in photo) worked "way down in the mines", under a mountain, for 34 years--sometimes as far back as 1 1/2 miles. I respect him more each day and understand him more than ever. Yes, he hit the bottle regularly, but how on earth did he go down there every day? Missing work wasn't an option. He worked on his knees in a low 30" tunnel, excavating a seam of coal.He did it for his family, just like the trapped Chilean miner who had promised his family he'd quit. He was close to paying off his family home, so decided to challenge the enormous weight of that deep, dark rock world one more time.

Daddy worked for us, too. He would rather have been a performer--a blues singer, a dancer, a musician, or an actor. He actually played music and sang on stage before his family migrated into Kentucky looking for a better life than Depression era Alabama had provided.

He first went into that dark underground dungeon for money. Later, he went solely for the 10 people who counted on him for food, shelter, heat, safety--and opportunity for education.

As a coal miner's daughter, I was pleased to hear from the underground miner from West Virginia that a bond exists, a brotherhood, so to speak, between miners everywhere. Once you've worked under the earth in those vulnerable unpredictable circumstances, no one but another miner can understand that isolated world.In that same spirit of unspoken connection,33 families have bonded into one as they wait for their loved ones to be freed. I rejoice for and with with those families.

One commentator called the miners "heroes" whatever they mine for--coal, gold, copper. He emphasized how people worldwide depend on all these minerals in our everyday lives in ways most of us take for granted. Flipping a switch for light means somewhere coal is burning to power generators. Copper is used for so many things--jewelry, sure, but other things we don't even see and take for granted--plumbing, cables & wires.

So much of our living, depends on the labor of underground miners. No matter what our political views on depleting nonrenewable resources, we need to remember these honorable laborers like my father and his hard working companions in the photo. They worked for years in a 30" underground tunnel for the Princess Elkhorn coal Company in David, Kentucky, my childhood home.

Next time you flip a light switch, use it as a reminder to salute underground miners everywhere.
Peace,
Judy

Does Language Make a Difference?

In my classes we study communication behavior as external indicators of specific internal attitudes and tendencies. In addition, we study the impact of language on attitudes. The theory of *linguistic determinism* is based on the assumption that language feeds attitudes. Questions to consider: Do *women* in the workplace get more respect than *girls*? Are *correction officers* more effective than *guards*? Are *faggots* more discriminated against than *gays*? Are *single* women more respected than *divorced* women? Language is powerful. Would you rather be a *baby daddy*, a *biological father*, or a *father*?


Linguistic determinism is an interesting concept. Sound research has shown that poor students, students who dress individualistically, students outside the majority culture, are addressed differently by teachers--with the result of negative impact on the child's socialization and the child's ability to succeed in class. Children made to believe they will struggle with math, struggle with math. Students who are talked to in a manner beneath their intellect, may begin to believe they are below average intellect. Attitudes lead to stereotyping which, in turn leads to prejudice and discrimination. Many of these students fall between the cracks when they reach 16-18 years of age. Somewhere in this vicious cycle lies answers to both preventing and identifying problem behavior. We must not be indifferent. The words we hear have impact, the words we speak have impact. Language is a primary factor in self-concept and self-esteem development. As instructors of today's youth, we need to become aware of more indicators of disturbed people.


The shooter in Arizona exhibited strange behavior for a long period of time, much of it in the classroom. I like being able to ask problem students to leave the room, even withdraw from my class. Now, I'll pay more attention to one who may be disturbed and come back with a gun. This article is a wake up call as to just how problematic a student can be.


Somewhere in all this is material for good class discussions on self-concept, self-esteem, language, & relational dynamics.

Fixin' My Supper Last Night and Remembering: Comments from Readers

Here's my essay on Fixin' supper. I posted it on facebook and received so many good comments from friends, family, and Descendants of David Kentucky, I had to share. Read the essay and the comments. I hope you comment too. When I say "I need to fix supper", Northerners ask me if supper's "broke", kinda upsets me, but when I was a child and still today I "fix" most of my meals. Maybe it's a coal camp phrase, maybe it's a rural phrase, maybe it's a southern phrase, but some people just don't understand it. Or, they want to tease me--a little-like my students when I ask them if they got their "lessons". I say it on purpose knowing "homework" has been in vogue for half a century now.


This piece is about food, though, not language.


My friends and family know that I've been a proclaimed vegetarian for about 30+ years. Well recently, I admit to eating some of brother Johnny's fresh, homemade pork sausage. It was wonderful. About once a year I become a social carnivore and eat a fresh, organic hamburger and they do taste good, especially when I make sure where the beef came from. But I stay pretty faithful to my vegetarian life style--and eat soy burgers fried crisp with lots of seasoning and mustard and onions. Healthy and pretty good. Anything fried crispy is pretty good to me!


I have to be creative in fixing tasty old fashioned meals though. Actually, in our home, we grew up on vegetables with salt bacon often being the only meat on the table...we didn't like it, so the little saucer of fried bacon was always placed in front of Daddy's place. Mother used the hot, smoking skillet of grease for baking our daily bread. Yes, everyday except Sunday we had cornbread.And everyday, Mother cooked beans or black-eyed peas (Daddy was from Alabama so we learned to like Black-eyed peas)


Real treats were chicken on Sunday, pork-chops for breakfast (Mother made awesome brown sop), ham on holidays (courtesy of the coal company), turkey at Christmas, meatloaf occasionally. To me, fried wieners and kraut was the best meat dish--and perfect with soup beans. In spring, Mother picked wild greens in the hills to go with our beans and cornbread, tender spring greens killed with bacon grease, fresh green beans, sliced tomatoes and onions with each meal, new potatoes, cabbage, roshineers, (found out when I was in college this meant "roasting ears"..did you know that?).


Since we were usually 6-10 people, Mother always had tons of potatoes or macaroni with tomatoes or cheese to fill us up. Of course, when we waked home for lunch we found fried bologna, pork n beans, cheese sandwich with a sweet pickle, etc. Once in awhile we charged lunch at the fountain and caused a big fight on payday if Daddy "went in the hole". Fountain food was worth it though. I still think the secret ingredient in their hot dogs was the waxed paper melting down into the food. People quit using waxed paper when Saran Wrap came out and it made a difference in taste. Wrap your hot-dog in waxed paper some time, let it steam, and enjoy a memory. Saturdays was a time for hot dogs and hamburgers. Sunday was a large breakfast with biscuits. Then, Sunday dinner usually had special meat or Chicken and dumplings and several bowls of vegetables and gravy to go with it al, and biscuits or rolls. I don't remember Mother making cornbread on Sundays.


But this is about fixin' my supper yesterday. While a small pot of butter beans cooked with a little salt, olive oil and margarine for seasoning I fixed everything else. I put a little olive oil, into a skillet, added a large can of seasoned mixed greens, threw in some fresh spinach, then as it simmered, I added a can of hominy (I also do this with quartered potatoes) and let it cook down. Mother taught me to let things cook down into the seasoning.


OK, beans are simmering and butter beans --I like the large Limas--take just a little over an hour to cook...so I start on my cornbread. Fresh ground corn meal, (brother Johnny's hand ground is the best), add some flour...guess at it, but no more than 1/4-1/2 cup for my taste. If you use Johnny's Wiley Branch cornmeal, you don't even need to add flour it's so rich and naturally thick. I remember mother scraping fresh corn to get that rich goodness for fried or creamed corn. I added 1 Tbsp baking powder and 1 tsp. salt. Never, never add sugar to cornbread. I taste it sometimes at restaurants and wonder what they're thinking! I made cornbread for my NYC neighbors once and delivered it hot for their evening meal. They saved it for morning and ate it with jam. So, cultural differences come into the cornbread experience.


So I'm making cornbread. I pour some skim milk, adkd about 1/4 Cup veggie oil, then since I need to use up some eggs, I add three into my liquid, beat it up pretty good, and stir into my corn meal.


Today, I decided to fry cornbread since I love it and it's easy and I want a piece real fast. Aunt Olga actually bakes cornbread in an iron skillet on top of the stove. She's the one who taught me that serving the men folk first was, "tradition, not submission". She's the last sibling of my Mother's 12 brothers and sisters.


While I'm cooking, I wish some of my brothers and sisters were with me. We love to eat and will eat almost anything. We talk and taste and talk about life while we cook. Both my brothers are great cooks so we all enjoy the kitchen.


Mind you, I'm cooking this meal for myself. My daughter has a special diet and we're alone here, most of the time.


Here's where I cheated: There was a jar of bacon grease in Sandy's fridge and I thought I'd better use it up, then we won't have any more. So, heated up the bacon grease in a large skillet and started the frying process, 4-5 cakes at a time. Fixed a plate covered with paper and napkins to absorb any extra of that bad old bacon grease, flipped the bread over at just the right time and started taking it up. I hope everyone knows what "taking it up" means. My friends will!


Since I made a lot of batter, I pour me a big glass of milk so I can have hot cornbread and cold milk while I work. Nothing better in this world. So I turn the bread when the little bubbles tell me to and hope they're a little crisp around the edges. I start taking them up. I eat one with my milk, even as I add the next batch to the skillet. Women can do anything! All at the same time! Flip them, take one out, turn them, flip, eat one, turn, take up, eat ...you know the drill. Then I decided I'd better taste those greens and make sure they are seasoned good. Check the butter beans, not done yet, so I have a little, very little plate of the greens and hominy. Cornbread, milk, greens, this is really good.


I'm still standing, mind you, fixing supper, and have already eaten a full meal. Do you ever do that? It's especially fun when you set the table for several people and take care of them; them not knowing of course you've already had a full meal. How noble we women are! When the beans got done, I had just a little of everything to make sure it was a totally good meal. It was. Of course for this final tasting, I sat formally in front of the TV and watched a really bad episode of Maury. Totally decadent meal.

Then, last night about 11 PM, I went downstairs for a snack. Guess what I had? Right. And there's enough for granddaughter who will visit today. She's vegetarian too, so I told Sandy not to tell her about the bacon grease. Not nice of us, but the bread's just too good for her not to eat it.


As the Dawson and Nova Bussey children always said, if we have some cornbread, we can have some cornbread and milk, if we have any milk.
I enjoyed fixin' this meal so much I just had to share.

Peace, Judy
Judy.  
Sharon L Thompson, Ruth Goble, Rod Bussey and 11 others like your post on "fixin' dinner"  

Rosa Shepherd: Judy I still say "fixin" out of habit My grandkids make fun of my talk They are Hoosiers, that's why  
Judy Bussey: We love those Hoosiers anyway, don't we. .what do grandkids know? I'm trying to teach mine something every day. Rosa, I miss hearing people say, "Drekly"..you know, I'll be there drekly" ...(directly, for those who really have no clue what I'm saying) ...I would give a million dollars to hear my mother say that word again.

Tammi Devine-Trzop: My sweet dad uses that cool word "drekly" so I know. Colloquial is fun. Hope your having a groovy day Judy!  

Loyce Kirk: Really enjoyed your fixin' supper story. I can relate. You made me lol.

 Marcia Lewis Varney- I thought that was just a Texas thing!!!!  

Judy Bussey: Wow! Great to know we have all that in common, Marcia!... But you're not from Texas, ..I guess Emogene rubbed off on you and now you're carrying on the tradition in Texas. I think we're all more alike than different♥

Terry Webb Buchanan: Northerners have their own local sayings that seem very strange to us. THEY need to be less critical and/or sarcastic about our sayings. Who understand "going down north"? Marcia's right, I've lived in Texas more of my adult life then I lived in Ky. and it is a common phrase you hear. It was so ingrained in me I hadn't realized I was using a phrase that is common to both states. When Austin brought his settlers to Texas most came from Ky.,Tenn., & Ga. They brought their sayings with them. Hence, the common sayings.

Margo Collins: Judy no matter what it's called.. you do it great! I've eaten the supper's you fix and it's healthy with a country state of mind! ON the other hand I've eaten supper's that should have been" fixed" a little bit better!! I'm ready for a sit down dinner with you and Sandy! ♥  

Barbara Carter Rice: Hi Judy, I always fix supper too!!!! You can't take the mountains out of the girl!

Jawahara Saidullah: This was lovely and reminds me that I must make....errr...fix me some cornbread. Judy, yesterday we were in New York City and ate lunch at a fancy macrobiotic restaurant. Despite knowing better I ordered the macrobiotic corn bread....Yuck!! It tasted like soggy cardboard, Now I want the real stuff.  

Melissa Verne-Leksell: (Granddaughter of the Great Cherokee Bill) I always say, "Gotta fix supper, it ain't gonna fix itself".  

Eileen Markham Lewandowski: I was born a northerner & lived in north until 1989. I, too, say that I need to fix supper. So, there!!! Nancy E Spiggle: I was also born in the north. Both of you are wonderful EKY Appalachians now!

 Eulagene DeBoard: I enjoyed your story of fixin'supper. :)

Toby Ann Bussey Howard: I do the same. I was reading an article in the paper the other day and it was making reference to old sayings in Appalachia. How many of you know what it means to say,"I need to back this letter and mail it to day.' Toby Ann Bussey Howard: I JUST READ THE ARTICLE YOU WROTE. I wished I could have been there to eat the good food you prepared. There's nothing like cornbread and milk or cornbread and beans. If you get real hungry and cannot satisfy your cravings here is what to do. Get a big glass of buttermilk and put cornbread in it and chop an onion (green if one is available) and sometimes a fresh cucumber is added and this will satisfy you. Ask brother John R. about this.

Paul Shepherd: I don't think I've had any corn bread since mom passed away and she lived 400 mile south.How about someone make me a pone and send it by snail mail. Toby, I don't do much backing letters until Christmas, I think they should put peppermint flavoring on so when you back them it will taste good, oops. meant to say lick them.

Venelia Prater Beck: Toby Ann you make me hungry. Gonna go get me some buttermilk and make me some cornbread.                                                                                                               Judy Bussey: I just never liked buttermilk with cornbread..in making cornbread, yes; by itself, yes: but I just never learned to like them together. Next time we're all at Johnny's, let's try it! Paul, I could never match your mama and my cornbread is different every time I make it...but it always tastes good to me. Maybe someday, you'll get a surprise package!

 Paul Shepherd:Now if you want a good snack just before going to bed. Get you a tall glass of cold milk, check to be sure no one has eaten all the corn bread first because if you are set to have it as a snack and it gone, someone going be in big trouble. ...If you are lucky you may find some left over. I don't care how old it is if it ain't turning green it good to go. Crumble it up real good drop it in the cold milk, then grab the black pepper container, shake enough in almost cover the top about half. stir it up real good go in sit down on your bed throw your feet up on the bed sit back on the pillows. take that big table spoon, never use a teaspoon. reach in and dip it full and I guarantee your mouth will meet your arm and spoon halfway. Don't be a pig and slop it up right away savor it and when you are finished you will sleep like a baby. My momma's corn bread stuck together,good brownish yellow, even crust all over about 1/8 inch thick baked in a iron skillet well cured over the years all she had to do was grab the handle make sure she had a pot holder so she didn't burn her hands, law a small towel on the counter flip the iron skillet over and that 10 inch round cornbread fell right out and never stuck or crumbled while you took it out. every day of her life she made two skillets as long as i can remember,Walked in her kitchen a many time see some that was couple days old. what ye going do with this mom, old, feed it to the chickens. well i think i have some if you don't mind. oh Paul honey don't do that it's old let me make you some fresh honey. God I miss her.

 Judy Bussey:Paul,I love some black-pepper sprinkled over my sweet milk and cornbread!
 Elaine Wells Andrusia: Judy, Northerners are funny about our vocabulary, I remember Mommy, daddy Susie and me were going to go up to Joyce's in Columbus Ohio and we stopped at a little restaurant on the side of Rt. 29 (this was way before the new roads came in), guess it was a truck stop or something because daddy got hungry. Daddy ordered "Sweet" Milk and the waitress looked at him like he was nuts. She had no idea what "Sweet" milk was. Daddy had to explain what it was Judy Bussey: Well..how little she knew: He could have wanted "butter" milk--huge difference!  
Wayne DeBoard: Judy, I commend you. I thought everyone in the north except the hillbillies forgot how to cook when microwave started.                                                                                         Milagros LeQuinna Ramos-Elkins: awe, i say that too, always have, and I'm from CT. We're not all ignorant! That is a really wonderful post by the way. I guess i can relate to a lot of what you wrote since my mother is the most Northern assimilated Alabamian I know, but she still is from Alabama. You can change a lot about yourself, but the taste buds are the hardest to go!                                  Judy Bussey: Milagros, the key to your understanding of our language is your Alabama Connection. My dad was also from Alabama.I shouldn't have stereotyped "Northerners".                                 Terry Lea Webb Buchanan: Well, Paul, my husband, Ellis, says you have the right of it, He always asks me to put some corn bread back for him to have as a snack, he fixes it exactly like you described. He was originally from Perry Co.,Ky. But his family spread their wings early, most are in Central Florida, some in Texas, and a few remain in Ky. Corn bread is still a popular item on our menus for supper. I had a hard time learning to cook for just us. I was so use to cooking for our family plus who ever the girls had brought home with them each day. Sometimes I missed that big ol' round table. It was always crowded. It was built to seat 12, but they always found away to squeeze more around it. It was too big for this house so it is gone now, still cooking for 2 is a challenge for me. I made a pot of vegetable beef soup last week, there was so much of it, I was sending care packages to neighbors.                                                                                                                   Sharon L Bussey Thompson: You've got to be kidding me.!!!!!!!! I FIX MY SUPPER AND I ALSO EAT KILT LETTUCE, SURELY YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS, ALL MY COUSINS AND FRIENDS WILL.SHANTY                                                                                                                    JoNell Hager Burchett: I plan on fix'n a big pot of pinto beans today along with some good ole cornbread, a big sweet onion, and some sweet cole slaw. Enjoyed your piece Judy!                         JoNell Hager Burchett: I just thought of something that happened when I was living in Wabash, Ind. My sister, Eula, and I went to the same doctor and we always joked around with him and his nurse. One day I got a phone call from his nurse.. She said, "JoNell, you are from Ky. right?" Of course, I said yes. She said "well, we have this guy that came into the ER today and when Dr. asked him what he had eaten for dinner..he said he had some polk..can you tell me what that is?" Laughing, I explained to her about polk...                                                                                                              Judy Bussey: Mother always mixed polk with other greens. It's a pretty powerful natural laxative, could upset the stomach...maybe they didn't mix their polk with other greens and he ended up with a distended abdomen-gas! I wish I'd learned how to pick greens from Mother. You have to know each one. Mother knew so many different types and some of the names were hilarious. It probably wasn't a northerner per se who asked me if dinner was "broken" but the phrase is strange to many. I polled my classes the other day: most say "fix" a meal, but some don't, so ......who knows....great hearing from you!                                                                                                                                                    JoNell Hager Burchett: Yes Judy, that is what I thought as well. Mom knew all those greens too. Like you, I wish I had paid closer attention to the old ways. Enjoyed your piece.                             Terry Lea Webb Buchanan: I have to comment on the 'polk salad'. My grandmother, Hatti Spradlin Webb, knew every plant that grew in our mountains in East Kentucky. Where to find them, the best time of year to pick them, time of... day to pick them (she swore that the time of day would affect the plants edibility or medicinal properties). Mom was almost as good as she was. They also knew which ones would survive transplanting. Mamaw Webb liked for my brother & me to go with her when she gathered her plants. She tried to teach us which were safe to eat, which had medicinal uses, & which were natures way of eliminating some of her creatures. When I think back on how many people picked 'polk' for meals it is a wonder they only got the upset stomach or gas. Monkswood, foxglove ( the plant digitalis comes from), deadly night shade all grow wild in our East Kentucky hills. They are found growing in the same areas as the edible plants used in 'polk salad'. Usually, when someone got an upset stomach it was because, a leaf from one of those plants got into the mix. If too many got in it would cause a death that for all purposes looked like a natural heart attack. 150 years ago, it was common for people to have heart attacks while eating. It was usually thought to be caused by eating to much or too fast. A lot of early murderers escaped detection using foxglove since it is found in our bodies for heart conditions. As an adult, I became afraid to pick it wild for fear I wouldn't see a small shoot of one of those plants among the edible plants. Sometimes knowledge can interfere with the simple pleasures of life. Mamaw showed us how to tell the difference, but as I grew older, I didn't trust my judgment enough to feed it to anyone. I still remember how pretty it looked in the bowl with the shades of greens, purples, & reds mixed together & how good it tasted, Mother made a dressing to pour on it, 2 really, one a hot one, she poured over fresh picked & washed lettuce greens, with crisp, crumbled bacon in it a little vinegar (I believe she used homemade apple cider she had aged), water, & bacon grease. This she poured over the lettuce & serve immediately, usually with hot corn bread & soup beans. It was good. I can't remember when I've had "wilted lettuce". Most folks don't know what you are talking about when you mention "wilted or killed lettuce".                                                  Judy Bussey: I love your stories, Terry and JoNell. I'm a naturalist when it comes to healing, wish I'd known that as a child and I'd have paid more attention to our natural bounty in the hills. Our ancestors were very smart. Since I became a vegetarian about 40 years ago, I've discovered I eat more like we did as a child! Only, without all the bacon grease! Your history is rich Terry. I'm posting this entire commentary on my Appalachian blog site! ♥♥                                                                                Jonell Hager Burchett :Terry, thanks for sharing that delightful information. Yes, my mom had killed or wilted lettuce right up to when she passed in 2002. It was wonderful with cornbread and pinto beans. It was a summer dish made with fresh picked lettuce and... fresh onions from the garden and hot bacon grease. You know, back when I was little mom cooked with lard and bacon grease and we ate big meals three times a day. Mom lived until 82 and dad to 95 so I wonder how they ate all that "bad" food and made it so long. Anyway, I have enjoyed hearing all the stories from back when. Judy Bussey: And, my father died of stroke at age 58, he also had only 25% breathing from years in the coalmine. I wonder if cholesterol was a problem? I have genetic high cholesterol. Even as a vegetarian, I cannot control my cholesterol. Even giving up "grease" doesn't change my numbers. I've refused chemical medication up to this point and try Red Yeast Rice, exercise, and diet. You make a good point Jonell. I'd like to know more bout diet and longevity in our ancestors. We ate healthy, didn't we, except for the lard and animal fat (not healthy, according to today's experts). As I said in the post, my family ate more vegetables than anything. Everyone worked and played  harder back then!                                                                                                                                                  JoNell Burchett Judy, you know, my dad worked in the coal mines too and had black lung. The doctor said his lungs were working at 30%. Yet, he lived a very long and good life. He had open heart surgery at age 81 and still lived to be 95. So, makes me wonder. Most of the food we ate growing up was raised in our garden. Our meat we got from raising chickens and the rest we bought. Today, I am not a vegetarian, but I could easily live the rest of my life without meat.                                               Judy Bussey Daddy's stroke was probably due to the genetic cholesterol that brother Rodney and I inherited. I'm happy you had your father and mother so many years. I know you miss them, it's always too soon to lose your parents. Eulagene said you took care of your mother. You are a good daughter to move your life for her.                                                                                                      JoNell Burchett--I quit my job and sold or gave away all my furniture and moved to Indiana when my parents became unable to care for themselves. Actually, I worked a part time job in Wabash for a while and then mom got too bad and I quit and after she passed I took care of dad the next 3 years until he passed. I was with them for 10 years. Eula was close and she would give me breaks so I could come to Ohio to visit my children. Yes, I miss them very much and I do not complain because I would do it again in a heartbeat if I could. I was happy to be able to give back some of the love and care they gave me growing up. Eula was a big help too. Together, we did it. Thanks for your kind words.                                                                                                                                                         Judy Bussey JoNell, your giving so much to your family is a strong characteristic of our culture...all people aren't like this.....I'm proud of you and admire you and Eulagene. I've had neighbors who don't understand why I always welcomed family members into my home. My motto is/was "you can always come home"..and in your case, "you can always count on me:The greater good of the family is more important than the personal goals I seek for myself. You break the stereotype...you could be a Hollywood movie star and here you are, along with Eulagene, a devoted daughter of your beloved Appalachian parents. ♥                                                                                                                             And from a blog follower Tony Long August 11, 2011 at 3:32 PM Dear Judy, Love this article. I think the term "fixin supper" is strictly a southern term. I was born, raised, and still live in southeastern North Carolina and like you, we "fix supper" every night. The way we generally put it in our house is "I'm gonna go fix some supper". I can especially relate to your Father being from Alabama and his cravings for black-eyed peas. My Mother is from Alabama so black-eyed peas with fat back was on our menu a lot when I was coming up. Thank you very much for the post. Tony Long LivingDiseaseFree.com

The Mines Can't Stop

For the wife may sigh an' the children cry,

But the mine--the mine can't stop

Berton Baily
"Song of the Coal Miner

I was intrigued by specific comments by David L. Francis,President of Princess Elkhorn Coal Company Organization PECCO). He explained how the company could keep the mines running during severe weather that made the roads to the mines impassable.

Pecco strategically planned the coal camp of David, on Lick Creek in Floyd County Kentucky to ensure miners were always available to work. During the WWII effort, the demand was high, the profit was high, and the community structure was designed for success.

PECCO wanted at least 1/3 of their employees, especially foremen, to live in the camp so there always be a local labor force available.

I had never thought of this, but it took years to complete the cutting of a road through middle creek.The "first seven miles of the road was a WPA rock road", and the last three, pure dirt and mud. The only way to get to David was horse and wagon during the wet season.

Finally, about 1943, the year I was born, the road was graveled and then in a few years the State blacktopped the entire road from Prestonsburg to David.

Before the blacktop, however, those first miners were the key to the ongoing working of the mines at a time when the war demand for coal was at a peak and supply was critical to the War effort.

That's why they built a camp and came up with various and sundry ways to keep the miners available and working. I've often said it was a double-edged sword. The miners worked to sustain the many amenities and benefits the Company promised and provided the children.
The adults were trapped. All parents wanted a good life for their children.

The miners were trapped in the double jeopardy of providing for their families by working the mines.I think it was this entrapment that set coal camps apart from other communities and made personal dreams almost impossible. My parents gave up their personal & creative dreams for us--their children.

Charles Dickens said it best, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times".

Peace,
Judy

The Henry and Dona Shepherd Family of David and Middle Creek, Kentucky: Connections to My Life

Henry & Dona Shepherd Family David, Kentucky
Photo originated with Larry Hardin, a descendant of Henry and Dona Shepherd.See Hardin's comments below.

Judy Nelson Calhoun, Daughter of Wiley Nelson, provides identification for those in the photo:

I will name this family for Paul in his time of grief of losing his sister Sally. The Family of Henry & Dona Stephens Shepherd: Henry, Dona (child on lap)Reubin, Ollie & Verba in between, Rome (next to Henry) Della (far left front) Peggy, Susan, Louellen, Kitty (behind left of Dona) Mae, Nana, Ashland (Pauls Father) Oliver, Richmond & Jacob. Paul can do better when he feel like it. My Mother was a Shepherd so I am related to all.


My Connection by Judy Bussey
Many of us grew up with the Shepherd families, East Kentucky pioneers. The Bussey children--and all children in the coal camp--always had Shepherd playmates and classmates.Shepherds, Slones, Hickses, Griffiths, Nelsons, Wrights, Webbs,Howards, and other families had settled and lived on Middle Creek since the Revolutionary War. As I stated in my profile at this site, I research my life's cultural, economic, political, and geographical influences in order to understand myself, my beliefs, my values, and my life in general. The Shepherds were part of the three distinct cultures that surrounded me during my formative years in the progressive coal camp of David.

The smart and resourceful people from the rural areas surrounding David have owned and farmed that land for more than 200 years. We merged into one community as the land owners sold or leased portions of their land to Princess Elkhorn Coal Company Organization (PECCO)and our community activities began to overlap. Our fathers worked for PECCO. One of my strong memories is of Ashland Shepherd, in the photo above, building and finishing the wood interiors of our coal camp homes. He built us a beautiful corner bookshelf, a prized addition to the standard coal camp home. Ashland was a smart man and a preacher. We all remember listening to him talk as he worked and the kindness with which he treated everyone.

His son, Paul, who comments below also worked for PECCO. Along with other David boys like my cousin Bill Bussey, brother Rodney Bussey, Brother in law Bruce Howard, and most of the DeBoard boys,they helped build and maintain the water system, the swimming pool, the grass and hedges planted all over by PECCO to beautify the area. The David boys cleaned Water tanks, cut hedges, and hauled trash. As Boy Scouts, they served as Air Rangers and reported airplane activity during the WWII era. Elsewhere on this blogspot, I talk about brother Rodney's adventures as a spotter and as a water tank cleaner. PECCO built a sound enterprise and built a well known group of employees from the greater community.

The work of the camp was nonstop, both on the surface where the women stoked the coal stoves for heat, cooked the meals, canned the food, washed the clothes, cared for the children and literally kept the home fires burning while the fathers, brothers, and sons labored in the deep mines around the clock. I love this line from an old coal mining song, "the women sigh and the babies cry,but the mines, they never stop".In fact, the little coal town was built to ensure there were always miners within walking distance from work so the mines never had to close. At times, the roads into the mines were made impassable by mud, snow or ice. Eventually the dirt roads were blacktopped, but until then, getting to the mines was a job in itself. Therefore, the camp was a practical, profitable enterprise in addition to being our home.

Farmers became coal miners, company carpenters, company plumbers, weigh-men, teachers, school staff, truck drivers, clerks, and otherwise key people in the development of the only childhood home I ever knew. The coal camp of David. It's difficult to describe the phenomenon that was David. One way is to share our stories.

The rural children became David children and we all grew up together on the Lick Fork of Middle Creek where PECCO decided to center their coal mining operation and build a community for the miners and their families. My father and his brothers had come to Kentucky from Alabama to work in the coal mines, Mother's home place was on Jones fork of Troublesome and in Stone Coal. David miners came from all over. From the mines of Harlan,Carr Creek, Wayland and beyond. They came into David from Auxier, West Prestonsburg, Van Lear and other coal mining communities to work for "real money" which was promised by the company. So, within the community of David, all these rich cultures mixed together.

Daddy took us up the "New Road" to Cumine Shepherd's home-place to pick strawberries and blackberries. And probably to get a "little brew" as the song says. We loved Cumine. Then there was Ora Lee "Red" Shepherd,an intriguing character who thrilled us by riding her horse across the hill into our hollow, goods and products hanging on her saddle. I know "Red" is an educated interesting woman, but to me, back in my childhood, it was like the wild west on the road right outside our house, 7th on the right up Official Hollow, or "Fisher Holler" as we called it. I'd love to know the name of the place where "Red" lived just over the hill from us where no road had been built before. Virgie and Darb were beloved, but down and out people from Ruff & Tuff. We loved them too. I went to their home a few times with Mother. Mother loved visiting in the rural homes since they reminded her of her own childhood home. The wonderful women up Caney and Brushy would make sure she had cow-butter and white half runners or whatever they had at the time--tomatoes, cabbage, eggs, and other wonderful groceries. I was always bewildered about what my home really was.We had "running water", a term I love to use, and indoor plumbing. In 1952, we even had television. At Granny and Pap's, there was another overlapping of history. Uncle Rob Hicks had wired their home with electricity, but we used the toilet outside and drank cold well water from the tin dipper always present in the water bucket.

Before I forget, the third circle of my cultural influence was "town"--Prestonsburg, the county seat. Town was something we wanted to "go to", but rarely did. Town was an enigma for me. It loomed far away from this child as a place of stores, clothes not from the company store, and two movie theaters. We all looked forward to our occasional forays into this exciting county seat. Maybe a trip to the dime store. During our high school, all the children from the left fork of Middle Creek were further united in daily school bus trips over winding, at times rough, roads--from David to "town". We always left before daylight; in winter, the bus returned at the edge of dark.

David natives, Ken DeBoard & sister Charlotte DeBoard Ratliff shared Hardin's photo of the Shepherd family with our Facebook friends who would see it as significant to our Middle Creek and David heritage.This post is designed to help us recognize and acknowledge a part of the families that were so pivotal to our lives in the coal camp. Below, Judy Nelson Calhoun and Paul Shepherd expand on this particular group. My hope is that some Shepherd descendants and other David natives will find this site in search of their ancestors and old friends. Judy Bussey

COMMENTS FROM DAVID FRIENDS

Kenneth DeBoard
The Heading at the Top was supposed to read "Great Families of David", My apologies. This photo is from my sister, Charlotte. Larry E. Hardin of Frankfort, Ky shares this photo with his readers. The photo was taken ca 1936 at David, Ky near what is now the Richmond Shepherd Cemetery. Hardin writes, "These are the children of Henry and Dona Shepherd, My Grandmother, Della Shepherd Hamilton is the first girl on the back row, starting from the left: Uncle Ashland is the first man standing, Great grandpa Shepherd is holding my Grandmother's youngest sister, Verba Shepherd Lester, Grandma Shepherd is holding my Grandmother's youngest brother, Reuben Shepherd".

Paul Shepherd
Ken I had the pleasure of knowing each and every one of them.What a great family, Grandpa and grandma had. Dad was the Oldest, Then aunt Kitty, from there I would have to check.Not very long after this grandpa died of kidney failure. What a... burden this must have been on grandma. All the kids pitched in and did what they could do to help.
Jim Hale was a Icon back then and he gave dad work to do. Pay was only like .75 a day but it went a very long way since most of the food was raised in the garden. Clothing was hard to come by so it was passed down until it wore out.Dad and mom lived in with them when they first got married & told many stories how the family coped with life.

One of the great Stories told: every Sunday morning dad and mom would get up and fix breakfast for the whole family. Even after dad and mom moved into their own place where I was born he still helped with the family. Then the WPA came along and very few people have even heard of it today.Those were hard times for families back then, If those times should ever return 75% of the population would die in today's world, God forbid this will ever take place.Yes there were evil times back then with a few. But family and LOVE was so strong it ruled. (Well said! I believe this so much Paul, Judy Bussey)
I remember how we would walk for miles across hills through the valleys to visit on Sundays, That was the day of rest and no one worked. Family time. Some of my aunts and uncles were not that much older than I so we played together, aunt Ollie, Verba, even the older ones would grab me and hug me and I thought they would never let me go. Uncle Rome and Ruben were young.

In time each started to marry off.Some stayed close by so we could still visit, like aunt Kitty and Jay,uncle Richmond and Rebecka who is my mom's sister, Aunt Louella and Langley Patton moved in David, aunt Peggy and Marcus Patton had the shower house for the miners.Aunt Della and Howard Hamilton moved in David. Aunt Ollie lived a few years down at the forks where Howard and Jinny Hill had their store.Some moved to Ohio, others moved to Michigan, even dad and mom went to Michigan at one time to live, but that was no place for dad so they went back to Ky where he felt his roots were.

Then that great company PECC came to David and gave that area new life and brought in new families from all over EKY.Then things started a change sons and daughters got to stay in EKY until the 50's then the move started again, This is how life is and we have to accept it or we can not make it.

Sad to report only two of the children are still living today, Rome and Reuben. Rome lives in Ohio, and I have not heard from Reuben over the last 20 years.
I have thousands of cousins, Double First, First, Second, Third, Fourth and many I have never met.These are just from two people.

These two people had brothers and sisters. Jacobs Shepherd's family
John Shepherd's family, John B. Shepherd's family, Another Jacob Shepherd's family, A John E. Shepherd all the way back before this country became a Nation, around the 1700's. This is just from grandpa Henry Shepherd's family. Now to follow grandma Donna you have to go through the Stephens family which could be large or larger.
Just from this one family a whole State could be named from it.

I just added "Kitty Shepherd Burchett" as a friend on Facebook. I Went through her photos and my heart broke. I had an idea who she may be, then when I saw her mom and dad, Want to say Gloria and Beecher I love you dearly.

Want to Thank Judy Nelson Calhoun for filling in for me.Yes we are family in more ways than one. Judy's Mom and My dad were cousins. Since the passing of my Sister Sally life just isn't the same.Sally and Jim was always there when they were needed and want to say Jim I love you buddy with all my heart.

Time waits on no one.Time is a killer that has no emotions and shows no mercy. In the last few years we have lost too many in our family: Russell,Paul D.--"Ralph's son", Mom,Rose Ann, Ralph's wife.. just a few weeks after mom. And now not even a year yet the loss Of our dear sister Sally. This is a part of living. Rise up and reach out while we can.
Blessings to all my readers.
Paul Shepherd



Home Place of Elizabeth Shepherd, wife of Ashland Shepherd, mother of Paul Shepherd.


Kenneth DeBoard
Great review Paul. I enjoyed your message, Its great to see how all the Shepherds are tied together. I know what you mean by getting to visit your relatives on the weekend. We made regular trips to Garrett, Hippo, Hueysville and other places to visit and they regularly visited us. If you took the Shepherds out of East Ky, there wouldn't be many left.

Kitty Shepherd Burchett
Thanks for the photo! Kittie was my grandmother. My dad is Beacher!

Judy Bussey
Kitty, I remember your parents from my childhood in the coal camp at David.

Please bear with me for posting a picture of my own Granny and Pap: Lizabeth Gunnels and John A. Hicks, originally from the Jones Fork of Troublesome, then into Stone Coal, near Garrett, as the agricultural economy began to fail in the early 1900s. I'll close this piece by saying it's hard to read this without a tug at my heart. The coal camp houses my family lived in no longer exist. Although Pattie Clark and David Burns Mollette and very few others still live there, most of our friends and family former playmates and classmates are scattered all over. I'm posting a photo of the Elizabeth Shepherd home-place to help us sense the earth, the beauty, and the eternal nature of those beautiful hills we all called home.


Lizabeth Gunnels and John A. Hicks, parents of Nova Hicks Bussey, grandparents of Judy Bussey siblings of David. At their Stone Coal home @ 1940.Pap's family had been land and timber owners before the Civil War, but as the economy became coal based, he also had to work a while in the Wayland coal mines.

I hope some of our readers will contribute to this discussion so others can read your comments at this site anytime.
I'd love to hear from you,
Peace,
Judy

Frank X Walker: The Magic of Words That Speak Reality

Frank X Walker, a favorite of mine,was recently honored with the NAACP Image Award. Frank X Walker wins NAACP Image Award By Valarie Honeycutt Spears vhoneycutt@herald-leader.com February 22, 2014 http://www.kentucky.com/2014/02/22/3103386/frank-x-walker-win-naacp-image.html http://media.kentucky.com/smedia/2013/08/28/19/59/gq6jy.AuSt.79.jpeg Frank X Walker, poet laureate of Kentucky, spoke at a gathering at Lexington's Courthouse Plaza last year to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King Jr.'s March on Washington. PHOTO BY MATT GOINS — Herald-Leader |Buy Photo Kentucky Poet Laureate Frank X Walker has won the NAACP Image Award in the category of Outstanding Literary Work in Poetry. The NAACP Image Awards program, now in its 45th year, celebrates the accomplishments of people of color in the fields of television, music, literature and film and also honors individuals or groups who promote social justice through creative endeavors, a news release from the program said. Walker, founder of the Affrilachian Poets and an associate professor of English at the University of Kentucky, said in a telephone interview he was recognized Friday night in Los Angeles for his most recent book of poetry, “Turn Me Loose: The Unghosting of Medgar Evers.” “I’m very honored to have my work — which I think of as a product of my artist activism — being honored by an organization like the NAACP given their history of activism in the United States,” Walker said. Founded in 1909, the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) is the nation’s oldest and largest civil rights organization. Walker’s book, revolving around the civil rights leader Medgar Evers’ 1963 murder in Mississippi, was published last year on the 50th anniversary of the killing, according to a press release from the University of Kentucky. Walker crafted the poems in the voices of individuals central to the event: Evers’ widow, Myrlie Evers; his older brother Charlie; the white supremacist assassin who killed him, Byron De La Beckwith; and De La Beckwith’s two wives, the UK release said. Walker said on Saturday that the book “is a collection of personal poems that try to take a historical subject and bring the reader closer to it in an emotional way.” The Danville native is the author of six collections of poetry and is an established playwright. A second part of the awards event was set to be broadcast live at 9 p.m. Saturday on the network TV One. Read more here: http://www.kentucky.com/2014/02/22/3103386/frank-x-walker-win-naacp-image.html#storylink=cpy

Frank X Walker by Judy Bussey Yesterday, I was privileged to hear a keynote address by Frank X Walker, who also treated us to readings of his own poetry during a KCTCS statewide faculty conference.The University of Kentucky Professor of English and Creative Writing is what I've deemed a "holistic historian". He's an inviting prism for viewing social injustice in all the hues and tones of reality. He's a mentor for those of us who write and those of us who teach and sincerely want to move our students to a higher place of thinking, understanding, and respect.

Walker's poetry is life in motion and he brings an historical moment alive in his reading. His use of the metaphor is pure genius. His vocal performance, as he speaks truth to reality, is on target and we know what he intends us to know, and feel what he intends us to feel. Walker takes a real slice of life and creates a universal significance.


Walker has a great sense of humour that shines through to make even the most cynical or jaded want to hear what he has to say. His smile must be such a joy to his students. He's so in tune to his listener and they know he likes them and wants them to see the joy in his message. This comic, super-hero avatar seemed appropriate to place in this essay.

Nikki Giovanni, a favorite of mine for 35 years, and whom I had the privilege to hear in person a few years ago, says of Walker's book, Buffalo Dance: The Journey of York, "And now, York finally has a voice". She's referring to the Kentucky slave who, once commanded to travel with the Lewis and Clark expedition in 1803, was pivotal to its persistence and its tremendous historical impact. York has remained primarily unknown and, perhaps never really honored by we students of Kentucky and American History. Who better than a smiling super-hero to keep our attention and make us want to know more. Frank X Walker doesn't want the glory, he wants us to know and honor York, a man not yet written into our history books.

Lewis and Clark kept meticulous journals of the venture and others wrote statements about the historical expedition. Walker uses the quotes as a lens for interpreting the silenced voice of York, who, as a slave wasn't allowed to learn to write. Walker delves into the heart of the man, York, who was torn from his family. York faces new adventure and spectacular majesty in the natural environment they explore while searching for a water passage to the Pacific. In his words, Walker captures York's, yearning for the fulfillment of sharing his own wondrous discoveries. Walker presents York's wondrous experience in words we understand and gives York's story the reality it deserves--the reality of human rights to pursue personal joy and freedom.



I first heard Frank X Walker when he was a young University of Kentucky Student in the late 1980s. He has grown into a master of the written word and of a lost, but true side of Kentucky and national history--a history he spins into a yarn of universal importance.

Today, he is teaching students at the University of Kentucky, but leaves for an assignment in Africa soon. Look Frank X up and see when his KET special will air. I'm very proud to have heard and become reacquainted with Frank X Walker yesterday.



As an aspiring writer, my hope is that I learn from Walker how to best dignify my beloved Appalachian coal mining culture in a manner that presents the dreams, sacrifices, the labor and the love in a manner that is understood and valued . Cultures, within cultures, within cultures.....we are all part of the ever expanding whole.

Books by Frank X Walker include:
Affrilachia
Buffalo Dance: The Journey of York
Isaac Murphy-I Dedicate This Ride
Black Box
When Winter Come: The Ascension of York.



Hoping you check out one of Walker's books,
then read with honest and reflective feeling.

Peace,

Judy

We Can Go Home Again

Several "Descendants of David" were homesick and longed for a community that no longer exists.David, Kentucky was a small coal camp--on Middle Creek in Floyd County, East Kentucky--that flourished during the WWII era and on through the 1950s and early 1960s. The community sprung out of rural Middle Creek with its rich heritage and employed workers from all over the Floyd county region. By way of church, school, sports, and holiday events the children came to know each other very well. When the company closed, a few of the original inhabitants purchased the abandoned company homes and continued to live in David. They became part of a new community that sprang up, but the original community was gone forever. It was time for a reunion so more than a hundred descendants converged into Floyd County on July 20, 2013. Our primary--and common--purpose, which we accomplished, was to pay tribute to our parents--the coalminers who worked on their knees in coal as low as 24 inches, the housewives, who literally kept the fires burning,the carpenters,teachers, electricians, plumbers, company store employees and other workers who kept the camp active. It had been more than 50 years for most of us--as many as 60 years for others. We longed to see our childhood home again--although the coal camp as it was (1940-1965)no longer existed. In so many ways, David was an ideal place to grow up. Our parents showed us the value of a solid work ethic, we had leaders of integrity, we had teachers who knew what real intellectual development was about, we had company workers and management who sincerely cared about the welfare of the coal miners' families. One recurring theme was that of fathers & mothers making sure the company didn't hire their boys to go inside the mines.Very few of the coal camp boys became underground miners. At our reunion we paid tribute to the brave second generation miners who had, indeed, gone to work in the underground mines in David. The hollows, trees, and hills are still beautiful, but the physical place is not recognizable to most of us. Gone are the Company store, the fountain and movie theater, the church, the school, the Boy Scout and Girl Scout cabins, the swimming pool, the tennis court, and many of the camp homes--all gone. But, we were "there". When asked to speak at the Descendants of David Reunion,Francis Harmon said, "I'm Home". We all seemed to feel at home with each other.We came to a realization that we, and not the place, are and will forever be the community of David that we experienced as children. The community exists in our love, respect, and support of each others' lives and validation of our heritage. We are proud of each other, as we are proud of our parents. We are the "Descendants of David". We can go home again. Judy Bussey Dec 20, 2013

Fixin' Supper Last Night

When I say "I need to fix supper", Northerners ask me if supper's "broke", kinda upsets me, but when I was a child and still today I "fix" most of my meals. Maybe it's a coal camp phrase, maybe it's a rural phrase, maybe it's a southern phrase, but some people just don't understand it. Or, they want to tease me--a little-like my students when I ask them if they got their "lessons". I say it on purpose knowing "homework" has been in vogue for half a century now.


This piece is about food, though, not language.


My friends and family know that I've been a proclaimed vegetarian for about 25 years. Well recently, I admit to eating some of brother Johnny's fresh, homemade pork sausage. It was wonderful. About once a year I become a social carnivore and eat a fresh, organic hamburger and they do taste good, especially when I make sure where the beef came from. But I stay pretty faithful to my vegetarian life style--and eat soy burgers fried crisp with lots of seasoning and mustard and onions. Healthy and pretty good. Anything fried crispy is pretty good to me!


I have to be creative in fixing tasty old fashioned meals though. Actually, in our home, we grew up on vegetables with salt bacon often being the only meat on the table...we didn't like it, so the little saucer of fried bacon was always placed in front of Daddy's place. Mother used the hot, smoking skillet of grease for baking our daily bread. Yes, everyday except Sunday we had cornbread.And everyday, Mother cooked beans or black-eyed peas (Daddy was from Alabama so we learned to like Black-eyed peas)


Real treats were chicken on Sunday, pork-chops for breakfast (Mother made awesome brown sop), ham on holidays (courtesy of the coal company), turkey at Christmas, & meatloaf occasionally. To me, fried wieners and kraut was the best meat dish--and perfect with soup beans. In spring, Mother picked wild greens in the hills to go with our beans and cornbread, tender spring greens killed with bacon grease, fresh green beans, sliced tomatoes and onions with each meal, new potatoes, cabbage, roshineers, (found out when I was in college this meant "roasting ears"..did you know that?).


Since we were usually 6-10 people, Mother always had tons of potatoes or macaroni with tomatoes or cheese to fill us up. Of course, when we waked home for lunch we found fried bologna, pork n beans, cheese sandwich with a sweet pickle, etc. Once in awhile we charged lunch at the fountain and caused a big fight on payday if Daddy "went in the hole". Fountain food was worth it though. I still think the secret ingredient in their hot dogs was the waxed paper melting down into the food. People quit using waxed paper when Saran Wrap came out and it made a difference in taste. Wrap your hot-dog in waxed paper some time, let it steam, and enjoy a memory. Saturdays was a time for hot dogs and hamburgers. Sunday was a large breakfast with biscuits. Then, Sunday dinner usually had special meat or Chicken and dumplings and several bowls of vegetables and gravy to go with it al, and biscuits or rolls. I don't remember Mother making cornbread on Sundays.


But this is about fixin' my supper yesterday. While a small pot of butter beans cooked with a little salt, olive oil and margarine for seasoning I fixed everything else. I put a little olive oil, into a skillet, added a large can of seasoned mixed greens, threw in some fresh spinach, then as it simmered, I added a can of hominy (I also do this with quartered potatoes) and let it cook down. Mother taught me to let things cook down into the seasoning.


OK, beans are simmering and butter beans --I like the large Limas--take just a little4 over an hour to cook...so I start on my cornbread. Fresh ground corn meal, (brother Johnny's hand ground is the best), add some flour...guess at it, but no more than 1/4-1/2 cup for my taste. If you use Johnny's Wiley Branch cornmeal, you don't even need to add flour it's so rich and naturally thick. I remember mother scraping fresh corn to get that rich goodness for fried or creamed corn. I added 1 Tbsp baking powder and 1 tsp. salt. Never, never add sugar to cornbread. I taste it sometimes at restaurants and wonder what they're thinking! I made cornbread for my NYC neighbors once and delivered it hot for their evening meal. They saved it for morning and ate it with jam. So, cultural differences come into the cornbread experience.


So I'm making cornbread. I pour some skim milk, adkd about 1/4 Cup veggie oil, then since I need to use up some eggs, I add three into my liquid, beat it up pretty good, and stir into my corn meal.


Today, I decided to fry cornbread since I love it and it's easy and I want a piece real fast. Aunt Olga actually bakes cornbread in an iron skillet on top of the stove. She's the one who taught me that serving the men folk first was, "tradition, not submission". She's the last sibling of my Mother's 12 brothers and sisters.


While I'm cooking, I wish some of my brothers and sisters were with me. We love to eat and will eat almost anything. We talk and taste and talk about life while we cook. Both my brothers are great cooks so we all enjoy the kitchen.


Mind you, I'm cooking this meal for myself. My daughter has a special diet and we're alone here, most of the time.


Here's where I cheated: There was a jar of bacon grease in Sandy's fridge and I thought I'd better use it up, then we won't have any more. So, heated up the bacon grease in a large skillet and started the frying process, 4-5 cakes at a time. Fixed a plate covered with paper and napkins to absorb any extra of that bad old bacon grease, flipped the bread over at just the right time and started taking it up. I hope everyone knows what "taking it up" means. My friends will!


Since I made a lot of batter, I pour me a big glass of milk so I can have hot cornbread and cold milk while I work. Nothing better in this world. So I turn the bread the little bubbles tell me to and hope they're a little crisp around the edges. I start taking them up. I eat one with my milk, even as I add the next batch to the skillet. Women can do anything! All at the same time! Flip them, take one out, turn them, flip, eat one, turn, take up, eat ...you know the drill. Then I decided I'd better taste those greens and make sure they are seasoned good. Check the butter beans, not done yet, so I have a little, very little plate of the greens and hominy. Cornbread, milk, greens, this is really good.


I'm still standing, mind you, fixing supper, and have already eaten a full meal. Do you ever do that? It's especially fun when you set the table for several people and take care of them; them not knowing of course you'vealready had a full meal. How noble we women are! When the beans got done, I had just a little of everything to make sure it was a totally good meal. It was. Of course for this final tasting, I sat formally in front of the TV and watched a really bad episode of Maury. Totally decadent meal.

Then, last night about 11 PM, I went downstairs for a snack. Guess what I had? Right. And there's enough for granddaughter who will visit today. She's vegetarian too, so I told Sandy not to tell her about the bacon grease. Not nice of us, but the bread's just too good for her not to eat it.


As the Dawson and Nova Bussey children always said, if we have some cornbread, we can have some cornbread and milk, if we have any milk.


I enjoyed fixin' this meal so much I just had to share.


Peace,
Judy

Down-Sizing and Liberation

Dear Reader,

I grew up in East Kentucky where we were taught to hang on to things so we could help our children "set up housekeeping". I'm not so sure that's the practice today, since young people tend to replace everything rather than hang on to it. I regret that my son talked me into junking my good sofa because it was in bad need of new upholstery. Kids go to Value City and buy sofas for 3-400 dollars. I still don't have a sofa, because to get one as good as I had would be 2-3000 dollars. So, I assume, eventually, I'll buy at the discount house myself.

Now, my best chair is in dire need of recovering, so I'm going to get some estimates. I simply cannot junk it. I'm beginning to identify with Mrs. Habersham from Dickens' Great Expectations. My furniture is ragged, I love old clothes, even with holes. I pull 20 year old stuff from my closet and, sometimes, they let me wear it. My granddaughter wants to put me on "What Not to Wear". She says adamantly, "It's not the age of the clothes,but the style. You just can't wear that"!

Today, as I downsize, yet again, from a 3-bedroom apartment to my daughter's upstairs studio/loft apartment, I have enough stuff to add furnishings to both my son's and daughter's homes, with left over junk to store. What will it be like to not have my favorite bed and no sofa?

My beautiful bed is too big to be carried up stairs to my loft, so I'll store it for awhile--at Tom's house. I have a great twin mattress and box springs that will suffice for both a sofa and a bed. I'm giving art to both grandchildren, including a really nice Elvis poster.I gave Dawson my piano, since he's a budding rock star and writes music.

That piano has been in my home for 40 years. I gave Tom and Dawson some coal-mining antiques, including an "as-mined" map of underground sections below my home of David, Kentucky. This map, a favorite piece, was given to me by an engineering friend more than 20 years ago. I also gave Tom Uncle Rob's gavel that he used as President of the UMWA in Wayland, Kentucky in the 40s--it was a prestigious position. I gave him some mining photos and a tie tack award Daddy won for safe mining when he was a section foreman in the 50s. I had always wanted to make Dawson a ring from it and I hope Tom will.

I plan to store Nova's Primitives for later display so they will be boxed for safe keeping. Savannah is getting my original oil-on-silk painting, another treasure given me by a good friend; an original art piece by Appalachian artist, Peggy Wells; and two Ruth Bernhard photos along with the companion book of her work.

I'll keep my 5 favorite Picasso prints that I found in NYC 25 years ago for $5 each. They are beautiful, rarely seen prints, and are my favorites. I'll also keep my original Appalachian art, by East Kentucky friends Mike Keesee, Ann Meade, and Tom Whittaker. Of course I'll keep my original charcoal nudes, by Lexington friend, Elsie Harris.

My latest addition is an original by Chris Eaton, abstract and colorful. I must keep it. Maybe artist/architect friend Maryam will come help me make the most use of my new space. My loft is rapidly filling up, isn't it? Maryam will probably suggest a midnight burning of my material chains.

Tom's been trying to get my beautiful glass, octagon table top for years. I'm holding out on that one. Today I took Mother's antique coffee grinder to Sandy's where I'll integrate my favorite kitchen stuff with hers--if she can tolerate me.

Tommy will take the Italian cutting board and framed poster with poem by Talleyrand--mementos from our coffeehouse days. I'm wondering who should take the Italian Mama Roe fondue pot and pitcher. Am I too old to have a fondue party? The loft may be the perfect place. My true friends like sitting on the floor anyway so having no sofa should be just fine.

Sandy is agreeing for me to put my book collection in her dining room. Will they all hate me when this move is final?

Why am I writing about these mundane things? We all know possessions have no real value. What is important is my ability to transition with grace. I'm thinking it will be awesome to re-identify my environment in some new and interesting way. The boxes of books and pictures will, somehow, set the tone.

I'm writing about this because I have realized that fewer possessions, fewer responsibilities, lower rent (smile), will afford me a higher style of freedom, yet keep me close to those I love.

I may be able to fly to Geneva, Switzerland and spend a couple of weeks with wonderful friends Jawahara Saidullah and her husband, Bijoy Sagar.They are 2 hours from Milan,Italy and 5 hours from Paris,France.I've never thought much about my own freedom, but now I know I've been held captive.

I talked to a friend today who is enjoying the same experience of giving things away. He likes being present to the pleasure his children and grandchildren experience with his treasures. We agreed a new form of liberation is possible.

With no strings of any magnitude, this coal-camp dreamer may be able to do some world traveling. My next dream is to visit friends in Australia--Melbourne in the south and Sidney in the North, England, Germany, and Southwest USA.


I yearn for hours of conversation, good meals and good wine with Bijoy, Jawahara, Geoffrey, Kathy, Fritzi, Barbara, Glenn y Patricia, and other friends I've missed over the years. Sobre Mesa, everyone!

Liberation may result from living in the loft!

Peace,
Judy

Afterthought: "Twice I was a mother, once I was a wife. Tore out all the pages and all that's left is life. Tomorrow, oh tomorrow, I wonder who I'll be. Got scrapbooks filled with photographs and none of them, not one of them is me."

Elvis & the Coal Miner's Daughter

Dan Goble, Owner of the Strand Theater in Prestonsburg, Ky. He traveled around with megaphones on his car, keeping the coal camp of David and other rural areas updated on music and movies.




Today, I started thinking of Elvis and why I am still such a fan. I decided to re-release this little piece I wrote a few years ago. Imagine 1956, rock 'n roll is just beginning to arrive on the scene.I lived up a hollow in the coal camp of David, Kentucky and our only access to new music was radio--WDOC and WPRT in Prestonsburg, Ky. Both stations had disc jockeys who use words like, "bop, bop, a loo bop" and "away we gooooo". Recorded music moved slowly in those days, so, when we could tune it in, WOWO in Fort Wayne, Indiana was always first with the new tunes. There was also Randy and Ernie's--I've forgotten where they were based. We had heard of Elvis and actually had a hi-fi and owned two 45s,"That's when your heartaches begin" and "Love me Tender". I would swoon and lie down on our fuzzy red couch and just cry. I couldn't stand up during those songs, I got so weak.

One day, we heard Elvis singing outside. Everyone in the hollow ran out and there came a car with loudspeakers on top blaring "Blue Suede Shoes". It was one of the most exciting days of my life. It was Dan Goble, owner of the Strand Theatre in P-burg, advertising the new Elvis movie. As I remember, my friends and I just stood there and cried with joy. My mother, Nova, said Elvis was a good boy. He respected his mother and his moves were sexy, not sinful. So I have given my self lifetime permission to adore The King. There was a time in my life when I was "forced" to give up everything Elvis. I couldn't even watch his movies or TV specials. I felt guilty when he died that I had not stayed loyal.

Forty years ago my son, Tom, bought me a priceless collection of  Elvis 45s. I have given it to Dawson, my rock star grandson. In turn, Dawson gave me an Elvis book for Christmas. Now, in my little loft apartment, I have a large photo of Elvis in his gold lame suit. It hangs in a place of honor in  alongside my "serious" art collection--my Ruth Bernhards, my Amado Pena, my Picasso etchings, Tibetan art--and my priceless pieces by East Kentuckian artists--Tom Whitaker, Tim Sizemore, Ann Meade, Peggy Wells, Mike Keesee--and originals from Lexington friends , Elsie Harris & Chris Eaton. I love them all!

Do any of you have a velvet Elvis? I regret not buying one when they came out-I thought they were tacky--now, I'd love to own a Velvet Elvis.

To the King!
RIP Dear Elvis