Cathy's Grandfather and Great Grandfather were James Nelson Fields
From Harlan, Clay & Jackson county Kentucky
From Harlan, Clay & Jackson county Kentucky
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Builders of Destiny
Builders of Destiny
by Jesse Stuart
They lie, our pioneers, where highways run.They lie where railroads go and cities stand.Their brittle bones have been exposed to sunAnd wind. Their bones are restless in this land.What does it matter if their bones do lieBeneath the turning wheels where millions pass,Builders and dreamers born to live and dieLike white plum petals on the April grass?What does it matter if their bones turn stone, Their flesh be richer dust our plowshares turn,Builders who made America our own, Whose blood has fed the roots of grass and fern?Dreamers and builders of our destiny, They left their epitaph for all to read;A land of dream and wealth and energy,A land where freedom is the greatest greed.
June 14, 2008
by Jesse Stuart
They lie, our pioneers, where highways run.They lie where railroads go and cities stand.Their brittle bones have been exposed to sunAnd wind. Their bones are restless in this land.What does it matter if their bones do lieBeneath the turning wheels where millions pass,Builders and dreamers born to live and dieLike white plum petals on the April grass?What does it matter if their bones turn stone, Their flesh be richer dust our plowshares turn,Builders who made America our own, Whose blood has fed the roots of grass and fern?Dreamers and builders of our destiny, They left their epitaph for all to read;A land of dream and wealth and energy,A land where freedom is the greatest greed.
June 14, 2008
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
William "Buck" and Sallie (Herald) Combs
One of my latest discoveries are of my Great Grandpa JWB (Jehue's) Combs parents. I have discovered their names.but unfortunately I do not have anything other information.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Farming and Coal mining
GrandPa and Grandma Combs
My family from the mountains of Southeastern Kentucky were farmers and coalminers. They were a hardy bunch that worked by the sweat of their brow, and the strenght of their back. Grandpa Combs was farmer until he came to N Ky. to find work in the steelmill in Newport. But the hills of Kentucky were in his blood, and he and grandma bought land for a farm on Elsome Creek. They would plow the fields with mules, and clear with cycle and blade.
Grandpa Hall was a farmer,and coal miner. He owned over 400 acres on Mill Creek, and the old homestead was off Hall's Branch. From family history he was killed in coal mine just up the hill from our old Hall homestead in November in 1941.
This is the old Hall's place.
Since coal and grain runs thru my veins,it could explain my love for this place. In a world where things are so crazy some times. I long for the peace that this place brings. I am beginning to understand why others that have roots in this soil return again and again. Even with its rugginess there is also such a peace. By looking around it is not about having more than the Jones, but a sense of your neighbor is family, and probably is. These mountains are from a simplier times, and it is a place time has almost forgot.
My family from the mountains of Southeastern Kentucky were farmers and coalminers. They were a hardy bunch that worked by the sweat of their brow, and the strenght of their back. Grandpa Combs was farmer until he came to N Ky. to find work in the steelmill in Newport. But the hills of Kentucky were in his blood, and he and grandma bought land for a farm on Elsome Creek. They would plow the fields with mules, and clear with cycle and blade.
Grandpa Hall was a farmer,and coal miner. He owned over 400 acres on Mill Creek, and the old homestead was off Hall's Branch. From family history he was killed in coal mine just up the hill from our old Hall homestead in November in 1941.
This is the old Hall's place.
Since coal and grain runs thru my veins,it could explain my love for this place. In a world where things are so crazy some times. I long for the peace that this place brings. I am beginning to understand why others that have roots in this soil return again and again. Even with its rugginess there is also such a peace. By looking around it is not about having more than the Jones, but a sense of your neighbor is family, and probably is. These mountains are from a simplier times, and it is a place time has almost forgot.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
