Originally Posted by raedar63
Originally Posted by Ramona Byrd
I would go back to my birthplace in West Virginia. Walk around the mountains where I did as a child, all by myself. I'd take pictures of the house where I was born, search under some of the huge rocks in the mountains where I hid treasures as a child. I'd dig under certain huge rocks for some of my uncles' jars of liquid lightening, and then meet again the cousins I haven't seen for a half century. We email each other but I don't remember those old folks whose pictures I see now and then in letters. They probably don't remember me now except we all have the family features and half the town is kin to either Mom or Dad.
This made me smile, the little thing like this are the best.......
My husband's mother was raised on a mountain in WV, duaghter of a coal miner. They lived in a town that had the same name as them, and there were so many of them she was given to the family across the holler when she was 3 because 'they didn't have any.' It didn't work out, they gave her back. Her brothers used to whistle up the mountain as a signal that the revenooers were coming, "Mama, time to sit on the boxes that hold the moonshine" She was so large that just by sitting there, she hid them.
During the time around the Hatfield and Mccoy fight, they moved up here north, and she was amazed that people wore shoes all year!
I love those old stories, they still embrass him. That town is just a few miles away from the bridge over the River Gorge. It looks like we might be attending the annual Bridge Day they have there every fall. They close off the highway, and people jump off a perfectly good bridge! Hopefully we can stop in the town
Stories like this need to be passed on to our children, they are part of why we are here.