E. Hawk Moore, Old Regular Baptist Preacher & UMWA Activist

Hawk Moore--Photo by UMWA Local 5895

E. Hawk Moore was an Old Regular Baptist preacher, coal miner, and UMWA member and official in UMWA Local 5895 in Wayland Kentucky where he worked for Elkhorn Coal Company for many years and also served as the local's Burial Committeeman for many years.  He was also a close friend of my father, Ballard Hicks, who was also employed by Elkhorn Coal Company for a few years before leaving the mine to buy a country store and care for his terminally ill first wife.  Hawk, as he was always known, lived about a mile up Steele's Creek from my father's store near the head of the hollow and just above the Steele's Creek Church which he served for years as moderator.  Sadly, that church is no longer in existence other than as a rental house.  I apologize for the poor quality of the photo above but it was the only one I could find of Hawk.  It is a detail of a group photo of the Local 5895 officials which is included in the book "Twentieth Anniversary...of Local Union 5895 United Mine Workers Of America 1933-1953" about which I have also written in this blog.  I am also still searching for further biographical information about Hawk above and beyond what is in that book and what I know personally.  Hawk's name also appears regularly in the Minutes of several other Associations of Old Regular Baptists as a delegate as does the name of Clabe Mosley whom I wrote about earlier.  

 

 

I have often seen Hawk's name mentioned in obituaries in the Floyd County Times and I know that the paper's online morgue will contain his obituary which I will quote extensively in a future edit of this blog post.  I believe I will also be able to locate another version of that obituary in the Minutes of The New Salem Association of Old Regular Baptists in the near future.  Although, my father never joined any church, he often attended Old Regular Baptist services with my mother, Mellie Hicks, and knew most of the Old Regular Baptists in the Floyd and Knott County area.  He often traveled to Quicksand Creek in Breathitt County Kentucky to squirrel hunt with Hawk Moore and his son George Moore and a few other men.  They always hunted on the same farm on Quicksand which belonged to some man whose name I do not remember who also was known to make moonshine.  They would travel to Breathitt County to the farm where they were allowed to camp and hunt for as much as a week at a time.  According to my father, part of the deal was that he would always check in with the landowner at his home and inquire as to "where his cow was being pastured".  This was a code phrase which they used so the man would tell them which area of his farm was off limits since that was where his moonshine still was located.  Apparently, the farm was rather large and even with being limited from hunting in one small fork of the hollow or another, they could all still cover plenty ground, kill their limit of squirrels, and avoid interfering with or leaving a trail to the owner's still.  The other part of the deal was that they also bought at least one gallon of moonshine among the lot of them.  I suspect that at times they might have bought several gallons.  For many years until shortly after I was born my father kept a gallon of moonshine in the house for "medicine" but was never a heavy drinker.  

Hawk Moore never drank at all because of his religion but since the other members of the hunting party were able to do so without causing problems he still hunted with them under that setup.  One of my father's favorite stories about hunting with Hawk Moore took place on that farm on Quicksand Creek.  Daddy said he and Hawk were hunting up the same rather narrow, steep, and rocky little hollow one day and Daddy happened to spook a large whitetail buck which was unusual in that time period in Eastern Kentucky.  Hawk was apparently further up the hollow than my father and the deer ran his way.  Both men were hunting with the standard 12 gauge shotguns of the day and probably would not have attempted to kill the deer illegally even if they had been properly equipped.  Daddy said a few seconds after the deer bolted up the narrow, high sided drainage of the hollow he heard Hawk scream something or other like "Whooee!".  Later, he said Hawk said he had been coming down a particularly narrow area of the drainage and the buck nearly ran over him almost literally touching him as the sizeable rack slid past his body.  Hawk was known to make the somewhat humorous claim later that he always believed that my father had been trying to get him killed by driving the deer over him.  They remained friends for life and, as I recall, Daddy made a trip from our new home on Right Beaver Creek to attend Hawk's funeral when he died.  There were also numerous trips through the years between the time we moved from Steele's Creek to Beaver Creek that my parents would hire a driver, since neither of them drove, and travel to Steele's Creek on Sunday to attend the church which was also the church my mother joined.  

I will keep searching for further information about Hawk and edit this post as soon and as extensively as I can. 

Reflections On Reading "For Whom The Bell Tolls" by Ernest Hemingway

 I have not read nearly enough of the works of Ernest Hemingway over the years and I have made an attempt lately to correct that mistake.  I began by rereading "The Nick Adams Stories" recently and wrote about it on this blog.  I had read those stories years ago and I had also read some of Hemingway's other classic stories which have been included in anthologies through the years.  But I had sadly neglected reading his novels which were the primary motivators for his having been awarded both the Nobel Prize and the Pulitzer Prize.  I have never heard a single serious student of great literature ever rationally belittle the fiction of Ernest Hemingway.  I do not believe that I ever shall.  Both those awards were granted to "The Old Man And The Sea", but I  have never heard any serious student of great literature disparage any of his other novels as having been any less worthy of the awards.  He was a phenomenal writer and is generally mentioned on that short list of America's greatest writers.  My version of that short list would include Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, Mark Twain and Pearl S. Buck.  While some of you might argue mildly against the inclusion of any of those people on such a list, most would not.  I do not intend to turn this blog post into a discussion of any writer, prize winner, or unawarded nominee.  But I do want to say that I have long wished it was possible to read the entire body of work of every winner of both the Nobel and the Pulitzer.  Each of them is deserving of that attention and study from any serious aficionado of great literature.  I do not expect to be able to complete that list in one lifetime but I am trying.  

Ernest Hemingway--Photo by Getty Images

To get to the point of this blog post, "For Whom The Bell Tolls" is generally an undisputed masterpiece and fully deserves that descriptor.  I have always known that it is a great novel.  I simply had never gotten around to reading it and I am sorry that I waited so long.  In my blog post about "The Nick Adams Stories", I stated that  "Nick Adams loved to fish, hunt, drink, and have sex and those are three of the areas of life in which Ernest Hemingway wrote at a level which few writers ever achieve."  There is little writing about fishing or hunting in "For Whom The Bell Tolls".  This is a novel about an American volunteer in the Spanish Civil War and the great majority of the writing is about war.  But there is also quite a bit of sexual writing which plays a key role in the character development in the novel and the relationship between the protagonist Robert Jordan and his Spanish girlfriend Maria.  That relationship only lasts about three days and yet, in many ways, it is the most important relationship in the lives of both characters.  There is also some discussion in the novel of hunting, but primarily the hunting of men in a war.  Fishing is only referred to in passing near the conclusion of the novel when the protagonist notices a trout rising to the surface of a stream over which he is preparing to dynamite a key bridge.  But those sections of the novel reinforce my opinion that the area of life in which Ernest Hemingway did his best writing are war, sex, hunting, and fishing.  

In this novel, Hemingway also addresses the issue of suicide even more directly and at more length than he did in "The Nick Adams Stories".  But very near the end of the novel, he has the protagonist Robert Jordan refuse to allow a compatriot to shoot him as he is too severely wounded to flee with his band of Spanish revolutionaries.  That is quite interesting in light of the fact that the author eventually chose to end his life via suicide by gunfire.  But his best writing in more than one book often addresses the issue of suicide, both the possibility of the suicide of a protagonist and historical suicide by one or more characters who were major players in the lives of those protagonists. It is generally conceded that when Hemingway discusses suicide in his novels he is reflecting both on his father's suicide and his own ever present consideration of the act to end his own life.  I must admit that I have never read a scholarly article about the issue of suicide in the writing of Ernest Hemingway but many professional and scholarly writers have attempted to analyze his literary ruminations on the issue as well as suicide as a familial issue in the Hemingway clan.  You can rest assured that enough has been written about Ernest Hemingway and suicide to fill more than a few books.  You can also rest assured that any book which begins with the quotation from John Donne: "Ask not for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." will also discuss death.  This is a novel about war and nearly all war novels are replete with death.  But this novel is about much more than death despite the fact that most of the members of the guerilla band of Robert Jordan are dead before the novel ends.

I would argue that this novel is a love story, perhaps two love stories, or even three.  There is the primary love story between Robert Jordan and Maria, who was a victim of war before the two even met.  There is also the love story between the other couple in the novel, the alcoholic guerrilla leader Pablo and his wife and co-leader, the loud, brash, dangerous, and somewhat masculine Pilar.  There is also the love story between all these Spanish partisans in Jordans guerrilla group and their homeland for which they have literally bet their lives.  This is a novel which no serious student of literature should ever neglect to read.  It is a masterpiece. 

Hiking At The Twenty-Six Boat Ramp, Daniel Boone National Forest--August 29, 2019

Today, August 29, 2019, my wife Candice and I took a long drive in the country and I took two side trips to hike in the Daniel Boone National Forest and/or Cave Run Lake.  First I spent a half hour or so at the Twenty-Six Boat Ramp which is located just off Kentucky 772 about a mile or less from Kentucky 519 just about a mile from the Morgan/Rowan County Line in Morgan County.  Even though I have lived in the area for more than twenty-five years, I had never been to the boat ramp area in question.  I had actually arrived there by the long way around through the Kentucky State Tree Nursery and Woodsbend Youth Development Center in the Woodsbend area on Lower Grassy Creek.  It is a beautiful drive along that route through some of the best farm land in all of Morgan County.  There are numerous well maintained farms, the Tree Nursery and the Youth Development Center as well as three major, well maintained and photogenic cemeteries along the way.  The most interesting of those cemeteries is the Bear Wallow Cemetery. With a name like that, how could you avoid taking a drive along this wonderful scenic route?  

But once you arrive at the Twenty-Six Boat Ramp, a great deal of the beauty is lost due to abuses of the site by what seems to be a group of partiers from time to time combined with an overloaded Corps of Engineers who probably do not have the time or staff to adequately maintain all the public use facilities in the Daniel Boone National Forest.  The drive off Kentucky 772 to the boat ramp is tree shaded, scenic, and inviting.  It has a large gravel parking area, a concrete boat ramp, and lies on a tributary of Cave Run Lake.  All of this should have combined to make a wonderful location to hike, fish, kayak, launch boats, and simply eat a leisurely lunch on a work day.  But the ramp was poorly situated and is pointed upstream which means that a lot of debris ends up in the ramp launching area and at least one large log was visible in the water on one side of the ramp directly in front of the incoming boats which I suspect are few and far between since a far better situated and maintained ramp is located only a couple of miles away just across the line in Rowan County.  Between the parking lot and the water, there is an area which is about four feet lower than the parking lot and probably two feet above the normal water line.  But it is subject to periodic flooding when the Corps of Engineers is holding large amounts of water in the lake.  The normal amount of debris which would end up in area like that would be expected and workable.  But the people who have been using and abusing the boat ramp area have made a workable situation both disgusting and infuriating.  I hiked this area for quite some distance downstream along the waterside and found it littered from one end to the other with all sorts of garbage.  I usually carry a plastic grocery bag with me when I hike and pick up whatever litter I find in the locations I utilize no matter where they are, whether I have ever been there or not, and whether or not I ever likely to return.  But if I had the assistance and time today, I and a couple of friends could have easily filled the bed of my Ford Ranger with garbage which had been thrown about by the users of the area.  I actually found the remains of several camp fires and two them had the remnants of automobile tires in the ashes.  One had the steel belt wires from a large tire combined with beer and soft drink bottles, Styrofoam live bait containers, and general garbage.  And this particular camp fire was not the worst of the lot.  Another had not only the steel belt wires from a tire combined with its bushel of garbage.  It also had the steel rim from a large automobile tire.  In addition to these camp fires, the entire area was randomly littered with what were obviously fresh bottles and cans which showed no evidence of ever having floated in on the waters.  This entire area is a disgrace to every human who has ever helped to damage it.  

This area is tree shaded, quiet, inviting, and on the edge of the water.  It could be a wonderful site to use in a variety of ways.  But in its current condition, I am certain that it drives potential users away on a regular basis.  It is in dire need of a major clean up and regular policing from the Corps of Engineers and local law enforcement and yet I know that all these agencies are understaffed and overloaded.  The bottom line is that it is a damn shame and in desperate need of change on a major level. 

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After I left the Twenty-Six Boat Ramp area, I crossed the county line into Rowan County and turned right up the first paved road into an area which is part of the upstream lake and is used as a camping and hiking site.  I do not recall the particular name or number which is assigned to this road but it is the last left turn off Kentucky 519 in Rowan County before the bridge at the Morgan County line.  At about a half mile, you find several camp sites with rudimentary launching for small boats.  Then there is a locked gate across the road which is obviously the old state highway along the Licking River before it became a part of the lake.  The road is only a couple of feet above the water line and still in acceptable condition.  There area a plethora of spots along this road which could be used as lake shore fishing spots.  It is quiet, tree shaded, flat at least on the area I hiked, and a wonderful place to hike, fish, ride a bike, etc.  It is closed to vehicular traffic beyond the aforementioned gate. During my hike, I encountered a nice lady who was riding a vintage bicycle along the road and camping with her family at one of the camp sites.  She advised me that the road extends for roughly five miles or more along the lake shore and connects with another old road which climbs the mountain side to cross out of the Daniel Boone National Forest.  She also told me of a rumor that is rampant among users of the area that the Corps of Engineers is planning to lease that area to a vendor who is already renting kayaks on the lake for use as a paid camping, hiking, and multi-use area.  I tend to doubt the rumor but I will admit that it could be possible.  I hope to return to this area and spend more time and distance hiking it to see as much of it as I can.  When I do, of course, I will post about it on this blog.  

These two areas which I hiked today are well worth the time to utilize if you are in the general area.  I would also encourage all of you to contact the Army Corps of Engineers Office in Morehead and discuss the need to clean up and enforce civilized practises on the users of the Twenty-Six Boat Ramp.  If you utilize it, please take a camera along, which I did not do today, and shoot some photos of the egregious garbage, campfires with evidence of burnt tires, and pass them along to the Corps of Engineers. 

Clabe Mosley, Old Regular Baptist Preacher, Feb 1857-- May 1959

Clabe Mosley's Homemade Tombstone--Photo by Jim Spencer on Find A Grave

Although I was only eight years old when Clabe Mosley died in Knott County Kentucky, I will always remember the hundreds of stories I heard about him and his life as an Old Regular Baptist Preacher in the New Salem Association of Old Regular Baptists.  For most of the last years of his life, he lived in a small house behind the home of one of his relatives at Topmost on Right Beaver Creek.  But for many years before he died his handmade wooden keyhole casket and the cotton batting with which it was to be lined hung from the joists in the attic of my maternal grandfather, Woots Hicks, at Dema just below the Turner Cemetery where Clabe was eventually buried.  As I remember the story, at some point after he was past seventy or so, Clabe decided to prepare for his imminent death although he would live roughly thirty years longer.  But based on common life spans of the time, he decided it was time for him to put his affairs in order.  He was either friends with or related to the people who owned the house which my grandfather would later buy and live in until his own death. It is possible that those owners were Preston and Rachel Terry, who coincidentally were the paternal grandparents of five of my cousins which means that at different times all four of their grandparents lived in and owned the same house. So Clabe went to the best known local coffin maker and requested to have his coffin made in the older keyhole fashion.  By keyhole, we mean that the widest point of the coffin was roughly where the shoulders of the deceased would be located.  From that point, the sides of the coffin tapered in both directions toward the head and feet. These are a common type of coffin you still see sometimes in old western movies.  They were going out of favor by the time Clabe died but they were still in limited use at the time he chose to have his made.  So the story goes, when the coffin maker finished the job and sent word to Clabe that the coffin was complete, Clabe got someone to take him, since he never drove, and went to pay for and pick up the coffin.  I was always told that Clabe inspected the coffin in whatever building the maker had used as his wood working shop and said, "Well, it looks pretty good to me.  But I reckon I better check it out."  So he took off his shoes, climbed into the coffin, crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and after a short while said, "Yep, I reckon that's about right."  and payed the maker and had the coffin hauled to the house which my grandfather would eventually own where it was hung in the attic along with some cotton batting with which to line it.

Sometime after the coffin was placed there, the first owner of the house either died or decided to sell it and my grandfather bought it.  Since he also attended the Old Regular Baptist Church and knew Clabe well, my grandfather never asked Clabe to take the coffin elsewhere.   Eventually, Clabe did decide to move the coffin to the home of a family member but it hung in my grandfather's house quite a few years after he bought the home.  Fourteen of us first cousins grew up on Right Beaver Creek within five miles of our grandparents home and I grew up literally next door. Five more of those cousins lived within sight of our grandparents.  All of us grandchildren would frequently spend time at the house for family events or simple visits.  During all that time, I do not remember that any of our female cousins would ever go upstairs since the attic was entered via a small crawl door from the single finished room of the attic.  Most of the six male cousins, in a show of bravado, would still go upstairs despite whatever fears we were trying to hide.  

When Clabe died at the age of 102, he was buried in the Turner Cemetery which is located on the ridge right above the location of the no longer extant house in which the coffin hung.  He had also left explicit instructions about his tombstone which is pictured above.  As I recall, he told one of his sons, Crawford Mosley, to build it by constructing a wooden form in the shape seen above and to carve the elaborate epitaph into the rapidly drying concrete.  The rectangular depression seen in the tombstone above originally held a photo of Clabe Mosley which was covered with a piece of cut glass.  But, because it was not properly sealed, the photo did not last long and the glass was eventually broken by vandals and lost.  But the entire inscription reads: "B. Feb. 3 1857  D. May 1, 1959  Joined Caney F. C. (Caney Fork Church) 1884 of Reg. Baptist Was Ordained To Preach70 Year Ago And Have Preached Or Tried To Preach The Gospel".  I have known many people who have literally marveled at that inscription, the homemade tombstone, and the entire story of Clabe Mosley.  When he had Crawford Mosley inscribe the words "preached or have tried to preach the gospel", Clabe was taking what was a common position during his lifetime in the Old Regular Baptist Church that all men are imperfect and anyone can make a mistake.  I doubt that this position is quite that common today.  Clabe was also well known for being rather long winded at times in his sermons and is said to have preached for two or three hours on his last birthday.  The Old Regular Baptists frequently engaged in the practice of "singing down" a long winded preacher but I do not recall ever hearing that Clabe was "sung down".  For those of you who do not know that expression it means that when a preacher was considered to be preaching too long other preachers, deacons, or church members would begin a song in their typical lined out hymnody and sing until the preacher in question got the point and quit preaching.

In a rapid Internet search of the name "Clabe Mosley", I was able to find two significant pieces online about him.  One is an article in the Louisville Courier Journal of May 8, 1955, almost exactly 4 years prior to his death.  The article is entitled "70 Years In The Pulpit".  But since I am too stingy to pay for articles from newspaper morgues, I have to admit that I have not read it.  The other article is from the Kentucky Explorer website and can be found in its entirety at this link.  It is written by James G. Hall and contains several interesting anecdotes as well.  James G. Hall states that Clabe served for a lengthy period as moderator of the Caney Fork Church.  I have also seen his name in several of the annual Minutes which each Old Regular Baptist Association publishes once a year.  He is usually listed as having been a delegate to the Association meeting which published that particular edition of the Minutes.  Hall also states that he was amazed at the physical condition that Clabe maintained until much later than most people did in the early twentieth century. He also mentions that Clabe was well known for refusing to eat meat which had been bought at a store since it might have come from animals which were dead before they were butchered or otherwise unclean or unhealthy.  It is possible that such unique eating habits might have contributed to his long life at a time when almost no one refrained from eating anything which was available. Due to copy right restrictions, I will refrain from printing any long selections from the Kentucky Explorer website story.  But you can rest assured that it is well worth reading also.  Go to the link and scroll down until you find the title "Uncle Clabe".  I will also attempt to add some information in the near future from the Courier Journal story.  Clabe Mosley was one of the most interesting humans I can remember hearing about and remotely knowing in my childhood.  He is literally a legend among the Old Regular Baptist Church and all the residents of Beaver Creek and Knott County Kentucky. 

Reading And Defending "Tom Sawyer" and "Huckleberry Finn"

I have written more than once on this blog about reading banned books, both those previously banned and those currently banned or being threatened with banning.  Many of the greatest books in the world have been or are still banned in many countries and smaller jurisdictions ranging from nations down to tiny school districts.  Both of Mark Twain's incredibly well written and well loved novels about growing up as a boy on the Mississippi River have been banned at times and many school districts in America today still refuse to allow them to be taught in their public schools.  There is no more important organ of democracy in the world than a free and unfettered press which is why the Founding Fathers in their infinite wisdom guaranteed it in the US Constitution.  The very reasons they guaranteed it are the same reasons that are being used today to attack that constitutionally guaranteed free press.  Despots, tyrants, zealots, and idiots are likely to attempt to ban books for as long as they are printed and to move on, as they are today, to also attacking and banning all other forms of mass communication.  Nothing scares tyrants, despots, zealots, and idiots more than the truth and the free expression of it.  I have stated at times in writings on this blog that it is likely that one of these two books in discussion in this blog post was probably the first book I ever read which had been banned.  So with the need to preserve a free press in mind, I have recently reread both of these masterpieces from Mark Twain.  

I fully realize that there are many reasons these two books were banned and that many of those reasons are legitimate on their face.  Much of the content in the books which refers to African Americans can be considered to be racist.  But when we read any book, we should examine the date of the original copyright and attempt to determine if the book in question was an accurate portrayal of the people, places, and times which they are depicting at the time of their original publication.  There can be absolutely no doubt that Mark Twain understood the Mississippi River, Missouri, and the people who resided there in the late 1800's as well or better than any other human alive at that point.  He also understood the institution of slavery and he did not endorse it as any intelligent reader of the two books can tell you.  These books were much more stories about friendships between unique and very different individuals who were living at the margins of Missouri society in the later years of the 19th century.  Two white boys, one the heavily abused son of the town drunk, and the other raised by an aunt after being orphaned befriend and have that friendship returned by an African American slave.  Throughout the books, at no time do these three persons ever treat each other as less than equal.  They never fail to reciprocate with the same loyalty and trust which is offered to them.  They take turn about standing up for, fighting in support of, and rescuing each other from one peril after another ranging from murderers, con men, and fugitive slave hunters, to a highly dangerous and deadly Big Muddy.  Along the 800 or so pages contained in the two books, each of the three faces opportunities to take the easy road out without being forced to suffer and they all always stand up, grit their teeth, and take the road less traveled in support of their friends.  At various times in the manuscripts, each of them is hailed as a hero when the easier route would have been for them to accept their own personal villiany and walk quietly away without losing any skin off their nose.  They never do that.  They stick by each other from start to finish and never flinch.  

Mark Twain--Photo by Ebay

Yes, I know that the language in the books, especially that in "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" is racist.  But it was the common language of the day among all the groups whose dialects Twain was writing.  Mark Twain wrote in the original foreword to "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" that he would be writing the book using three dialects of three different groups of people in the area of his fictional town on the river.  Here is what he said: "the Missouri negro dialect; the extremest form of the backwoods South-Western dialect; the ordinary Pike County dialect; and four modified varieties of this last."  And that is exactly what he did.  I am not always a fan of writing in dialect and that aversion is deeply rooted in the fact that I grew up speaking and still speak my own version of one of the most maligned and vilified dialects in the country, the Southern Appalachian dialect.  When Mark Twain wrote in those various dialects of Missouri, he was required to use their verbiage, vocabulary, accents, and idiosyncrasies.  And he did a damn fine job of it.  He has ever since been pilloried by his detractors for having used the singular, and sometimes singularly repulsive, vocabulary of Missouri slave holders and poor whites.  And if we, in our self-appointed "wisdom" (translate ignorance) attempt to edit those words out of the books, we are doing a great disservice to the average reader who had no idea how poor slaves were spoken of and treated at the time of the books.  

I have little doubt that some of my readers here will accuse me of racism for having taken this position in defense of two of the greatest American novels ever written.  So let me tell you a little about my life history.  I have spent twenty years living and working in settings, both in agriculture and the human services, in which the employees and clientele were roughly 80% African American.  I have performed home visits in the ghettos of Pittsburgh, Philadelphia, Erie, Southern New Jersey, and Lexington, Kentucky.  I know whereof I speak when I speak of the downtrodden since 8 of those years were spent working with a homeless population who were primarily African American.  But if you choose be well rounded in the area of American Literature or to produce children who are well rounded, you need to read and you need to assure that those children read the work of Mark Twain, and if possible, to read all of his works.  Do not in your self-appointed righteousness refuse to read two of the best American novels ever written. 

Multi-Cropping Small Plots In The Appalachian Garden

Hickory King Corn--Photo by Hoss Tools

Recently, I shared a Facebook post from my friend Dawn Whiteside Rubin on the Facebook group "Appalachian Cooks" about what the post described as an early Native American practice of multi-cropping what they referred to as "The Three Sisters" in their gardens.  The three sisters were corn, green beans, and squash.  When I shared the post to the "Appalachian Cooks" group, I did so with a prefatory comment that when I was growing up in Knott County in Eastern Kentucky my family had always done the same thing.  The original Facebook post stated that the squash vines would cover the ground and eliminate most weeds.  I don't remember it being exactly like that.  And in our practice at home, we always raised four vegetables in the same space: Hickory King Corn, White Half Runner Beans, Irish Potatoes, and Cushaw, which is a large form of crook neck squash which can sometimes weigh more than twenty pounds each.  We always planted our potatoes as early as the ground was thawed and dry enough to plow.  Since potatoes were one of the key staple crops we raised, we wanted to eat them as early as possible.  Potatoes can actually be planted in the fall in small amounts such as a single row for early eating potatoes in the following spring.  After the winter has set in enough to prevent the potatoes from sprouting, you can dig a row in your garden deep enough to get the seed potatoes a bit below the hard freeze line and then place your smallest potatoes, those too small to eat productively, in the row you have dug if they have a couple of eyes.  Then it is best to cover them, or even surround them with a mulch of dead leaves, grass clippings, or hay and straw to help insulate them, then cover them up with plenty dirt and wait for spring.  As soon as the ground thaws enough for the soil to warm and potatoes to sprout, they will sprout and start to grow.  This often happens well before you could have plowed the garden, planted potatoes, and gotten them to sprout.  If all goes well, that single row of potatoes will be blooming about the time you have hoed your others the first time.  You can begin to gravel potatoes out of that row for meals well before your other, primary crop are blooming.  You eat out of that row until they are gone and plow it or till it for another crop such as spring greens, onions, radishes, or lettuce. For those you who have  never heard the term graveling applied to potatoes, it means that when they start to bloom it is about the correct time to use your fingers to dig into the side of a hill to see if you have new potatoes about the size of a golf ball or bigger.  If so, you dig up that hill and use them to make new potatoes and gravy. If you don't have eating sized new potatoes, just put the dirt back in place and that sample hill will still grow and produce. If you have new sweet peas by that time, you can also use them with cream gravy which makes a wonderful early spring meal. Of course, the   ideal spring meal would also include wilted lettuce and green onions if you have everything ready to eat at the same time.

Pontiac Red Potatoes--Photo by Burpee's Inc.

Let's get back to the original motivation for this blog post, what the Native Americans apparently called "The Three Sisters".  Our version of this was not referred to as anything other than "planting the garden" or maybe "planting corn and beans" but you already know that we planted more than just corn and beans in this manner.  We began by planting our potatoes early, usually a one hundred pound bag of seed potatoes which had generally been halved at least if they had sufficient eyes and sometimes even cut into thirds or fourths if they were large enough with sufficient eyes. You should never cut a seed potato into pieces which only have one eye since sometimes and eye can prove to be infertile or simply not sprout for some unknown reason.  We might have laid our rows out with what we called balks, the space between the actual rows, being a bit wider than usual because of all the different vegetables in them.  When the potatoes sprouted and had been howed, usually twice, and the weather was warm enough to plant beans and corn, we would plant Hickory King Corn and White Half Runner Beans between the hills of potatoes.  We usually planted three grains of corn and two or three beans in each hill and thinned them to only the two strongest plants of each variety when they were hoed the first time.

White Half Runner Beans--Photo by Etsy

We did the best we could to hoe the corn and bean hills twice or to, at least shave the weeds out from between the hills of the various kinds of produce growing in this obviously busy space.  But I still do not recall that having squash or cushaw growing randomly between the rows ever produced enough leaves to prevent the need for chopping out the weeds. After the corn grew up to about three feet, the bean vines were already twined around them and reaching for the sky.  As long as the corn sprouted and grew, it was never necessary to spend time bending to pick beans.  Sometimes, that Hickory King Corn and the accompanying beans would grow in excess or seven or eight feet and it became necessary to bend the corn stalks over to pick the beans and whatever roasting ears we decided to eat from the field corn when the time was right.  Also, always remember that Hickory King Corn will get hard quickly.  If you intend to eat it as roasting ears, you need to do that a bit before the ears are totally full. In some cases, Hickory King Corn can reach ten feet in a rich soil. Many people cannot adapt to the heavier flavor of the Hickory King field corn but we all loved it.   As for the beans, we used them fresh as soon as they were full usually cooked with a good sized hunk of smoked hog jaw.  But the majority of the crop were divided between canning and drying as shucked beans. The majority of the Hickory King Corn was picked in the fall and saved for livestock feed and next year's seed corn.  We also used the corn blades and stalks for fodder for our livestock.  We cut what we called "top fodder" by cutting, bundling, and shocking the stalks complete with leaves above the top ear of corn.  The bottom blades we pulled for blade fodder and also saved it in bundles.  Most livestock will simply not eat the heavy bottom stalks of corn so we just plowed that under at plowing time. 

Cushaw--Photo by Eden Brothers

The cushaw never required any hoeing and produced enough of the oversized hard shelled squash to fill our needs for the winter. We loved it cut into chunks and baked with butter and brown sugar or molasses.  We saved the extra cushaws as long as we could in a cellar or smoke house but it usually will begin to rot before winter is over so you need to watch it closely and eat it early if needed.  But I have learned lately that cushaw is a very good vegetable for freezing and my wife and I try to freeze enough each year now so that we can eat cushaw all year around.  It works really well in a Food Saver vacuum sealer.  I always laugh when I see cushaws being used only for lawn decoration at Halloween.  I can assure you that cushaw is a wonderful food and you need to try one this fall. Cushaws are also excellent as the main ingredient in autumn pies or canned as cushaw butter.  If you want it in a pie, just use your favorite pumpkin pie recipe and it will work beautifully.  If you want to use it canned as cushaw butter, just remove the flesh from the shell and prepare it with your favorite apple butter recipe.  It really is a wonderful vegetable and one of my favorites. 

I sincerely hope that this blog post has helped some of you to see how you can maximize usage of the small garden in Appalachia or anywhere else.  By doing this form of multi-cropping with these four vegetables, you can turn out a ton of food in an amazingly small amount of space.  Have fun in your next year's garden. 

Hiking The Jenny Wiley Trail, Saturday, August 24, 2019

On Saturday, August 24, 2019, my wife Candice and I traveled to Prestonsburg, Kentucky, to Jenny Wiley State Park to have lunch at the state park lodge and for me to put in an hour hiking on the Jenny Wiley Trail which is just across an arm of Dewey Lake opposite the lodge, amphitheater, and marina.  Candice had the lunch buffet and I ordered a barbecued chicken breast off the menu since I did not like the looks of the beef and pork on the buffet.  Both were in hotel pans on the warmer and immersed in a watery sauce.  I had one bite of each off Candice's plate and the pork was actually fairly good.  The beef was way too bland and just did not meet my standards especially in light of the fact that I rarely eat either meat these days.  My chicken breast was a typical frozen and partially precooked breast which had been briefly grilled and then covered in what tasted a lot like Sweet Baby Ray's sauce.  But it was moist, tender, fairly tasty since I actually like Sweet Baby Ray's Original Sauce.  We arrived late in the lunch hour after 1pm and found only three other tables occupied in the large restaurant.  Four or five staff members spent much of the time in conversation at the check out counter and seemed to have nothing to do.  But the female hostess and waitress who served us were both friendly, talkative, and attentive.  

After the lunch, we parked in the shade near the Jenny Wiley Amphitheater where Candice could read a book and wait for me to return.  There seemed to be absolutely nothing happening at the amphitheater and that is a shame because for many years it was one of the better entertainment venues in Eastern Kentucky.  But it seems to have lost much of its success in recent years and has moved most of its productions to Pikeville, Kentucky.  I have seen many pleasurable and well done productions there over the last fifty years.  It is a shame that it is no longer what it used to be. 

Official Map Jenny Wiley State Resort Park by KY State Parks

I have included the official map of the state park above since it can be helpful if you go there to visit, hike, fish, camp, eat, boat, or see a play.  I have also included the reverse side of that map below which gives the official descriptions of the 6 hiking trails within the park along with the rules for users.  The map describes the Jenny Wiley Trail as being 4.5 miles and "Strenuous" and "not recommended for solo hikers".  I must admit here that I broke two key rules for hikers anywhere during my hike.  First, I totally disregarded the disclaimer that the trail is "not recommended for solo hikers",  and after having hiked on it for an hour, I have no idea why it is labeled that way.  The first few hundred yards of the trail are a fairly steep uphill hike on what we natives of the area call a "point" which is a projection of land which rises out of the landscape.  But once you are past that few hundred yards, I found the trail to be only mildly challenging and capable of being hiked by any reasonably healthy and fit human.  Second, the trail begins near a rental cottage near the lake and has an aged, decrepit set of wooden steps up the first twenty feet or so from a paved driveway to the actual beginning of the trail proper.  There was an old caution tape tied to but torn down from the entrance to the steps with a dirty sign saying that "This section of the Jenny Wiley Trail is temporarily closed". I realize that going past that tape and sign is a cardinal mistake for most people and I did it anyway.  But I know the mountains of Eastern Kentucky better than most.  I am in fit condition and hike regularly.  I still do not recommend taking such actions and would not have done so in an area in which I had never spent time. I interpreted the sign to be referring to the decrepit condition of the steps and not the entire trail.  The steps are in bad need of replacement and for a few hundred dollars of lumber, screws, and labor, the Commonwealth of Kentucky could solve the problem for several years.  Actually, I must say that the trail does not appear to be well maintained in general and I eventually encountered an area near the ridge with several blown down trees which block the trail to a considerable degree and, since Candice was waiting for me alone, that is where I turned around after a little more than half an hour.  I also saw at least two fairly dangerous "widow maker" trees which were dead, partially fallen, and hung up in other living trees.  If the trail were well maintained, it would be a fairly nice hike of probably an hour and half for an experienced and fit hiker.  As it is, it is somewhat more time consuming and might take the same hiker two hours or a bit more if the remainder of the trail also has similar down timber blocking it.  

For me the most interesting part of the trail is that I saw a small cemetery beside the trail in that initial climb up the point which has only two clearly marked graves, one of which is marked with a Confederate States Of America tombstone.  Both carry the same last name.  The little cemetery is totally hidden in the timber and if a marked hiking trail were not there it would probably be long forgotten by now.  Speaking of marked trail, the trail is fairly well marked ever hundred yards or so with blue paint blazes on trees.  It is also well used and nearly as visible to the trained eye as a cow path might be.  I also noticed a lot of young poplar trees on or near the trail ranging from about two years old to having recently sprouted.  They varied from about two or three inches to maybe eight inches in general and seem to indicate that the area was more open in the past few years since poplars are generally regenerative growth.  They also indicate that, on this particular trail, the Kentucky State Parks Department is not doing its job. 

Sunday In A Mennonite Community--A Cross Cultural Experience, August 18, 2019

On this past Sunday, August 18, 2019, my wife Candice wanted to go to church at Faith Hills Mennonite Church in Crockett, Kentucky, where we have several friends in the community and congregation.  We have attended church there in the past a few times and I have attended and written about the last day of school in their religious based school.  I also have one novelist friend, Emily Steiner, in the congregation and community and have written about three of her novels on this blog.  I regularly do business with several people in the congregation including having used those people for the roof on my house, regular mechanical work on my vehicles, repairs on my septic system a few years ago, a new deck several years ago, and buying produce and pasture raised chickens from two families in the congregation over the last several years.  I know several of these people well and respect and trust them tremendously.  Sunday services at this church start at about 9:30am when most people arrive and spend nearly half an hour in silent meditation in the sanctuary.  Services usually end at about 12:30pm and conversation in church might last another half hour before everyone departs. When we attend any kind of service there, I always try to wear dark pants and a long sleeved solid blue shirt buttoned in the sleeves and collar just as most of the men in the congregation do.  Candice, who is in a wheelchair, will always wear a long dress but usually does not wear any kind of head covering as all the female members do.  I will address this topic a bit later in the post. 

Anonymous Mennonites Walking--Photo by Huffington Post

When we arrived, the family greeting congregants at the door and whose father was teaching Sunday school were friends of ours from whom we had just bought fifteen pasture raised chickens and some tomatoes a few days before.  There were also several others whom we knew in the congregation on this particular Sunday.  But we did not know the man who preached the sermon.  He was visiting from another congregation.  As he began to preach, he stated that he had not expected to preach on this particular Sunday but had been preparing to preach in another church the following week on the topic from the highly structured "Adult Bible Studies" book which all these congregations use.  Those "Adult Bible Studies"  books are written, printed, and distributed quarterly by Rod And Staff Publishing which is also in Crockett, Kentucky, and is one of the largest Mennonite publishers in the entire country while being located in a county which only had about 14,000 citizens according to the  2010 US Census.  The topic he said he was not prepared to preach about was from First Corinthians 10: 1-15, "Warnings From Israel's History".  The next week's topic which this preacher chose to preach on was "God's Order of Headship" from First Corinthians 11: 1-16. This topic concerns in part the fact that conservative Mennonite women always wear a head covering when they come in contact with others. From Candice's point of view, this made a significant change of topic since she had not worn any type of head covering to church which she never had before and had never heard a Mennonite preacher take up the subject.  Naturally, she felt that it was possible that she was "being preached at" which I also considered possible.  But in support of some of the mild mannered ways of Mennonite preachers in general, they rarely bring down hell fire and brimstone as I have seen in numerous Baptist, Methodist, Holiness, and Pentecostal churches which I have visited.  It is their way to logically discuss any topic in a calm, clearly audible voice without any shouting, jumping up and down, or pacing animatedly around the room.  But Candice even sent an e-mail message to one of our female Mennonite friends after we got home to inquire about the possibility that she had been the cause of the change in topic and was actually being "preached at".  She received an interesting and typically mild mannered Mennonite response which said: "To be honest, I wondered how it made you feel to listen to that message.😊 Like we heard in (sic) Sunday, I believe that it is God’s plan for all Christian women to cover their heads. However, we welcome anyone to worship with us, regardless of how they are dressed, including whether ladies cover their heads. I really hope you come back again soon! I enjoyed talking with you too."   

After church was over, there was a long period of conversation among many people in the congregation including one Candice had with a woman we had not met before who has also recently been experiencing neurological symptoms to the point that she has had to stop driving.  Her husband also approached me and asked many of the same questions about his wife's symptoms, what I knew about neurological disease, doctors and hospitals who treat such cases, and the nature of Candice's problems and impairment.  I gave him what information I had at the time and when we got home I also found that I had a medical school textbook on "Fundamental Neuroscience" which I offered to loan them by telephone.  I suspect that we are likely to share further information about this topic in the future and could even become friends based on our common problems.  

This discussion also made clearly apparent one major difference between conservative Mennonites and the general American population in how we seek, utilize, and pay for medical treatment.  Mennonites do not buy or use health insurance for Biblical reasons which are too complex to get into at this time.  When they become ill, they usually seek treatment from non-traditional sources before seeking treatment of a more conventional and expensive kind from mainstream hospitals and their staff.  They use some form of mutual aid or simply strive to pay their own medical expenses when they occur.  I have known of one young Mennonite woman, only 42, mother of 8 children from 2 to 16, who died of cancer in this community in the past two years because she sought non-traditional care when she first became aware of her disease.  That disease was untreatable by the time she had sought care at our local Appalachian Regional Hospital.  Her widowed husband is now trying to complete raising those 8 children while working a full time job at the aforementioned Rod And Staff Publishers.  

One form of mutual aid is discussed in this manner at the link contained herein:  "The Conservative Amish and Mennonite Medical Resharing Pool, based in Middlebury, Ind., requires groups of at least 10 people who are “active members or active participants of a Conservative or Amish Mennonite church” to form their own plan in order to join the pool, according to the program’s bylaws. Shares are paid quarterly by each plan depending on how many members each plan has. Amounts vary based on what medical needs are approved for coverage each quarter." My Mennonite novelist friend recently had a minor automobile accident which the local police ruled as having been her fault.  She paid more than $2,000 dollars to repair the other driver's car out of her own funds in addition to her own relatively minor medical expenses for a broken finger  since she did not have automobile insurance.  It is also important to note here that the Amish and Mennonites receive a religiously based exemption from complying with laws regarding required insurance as guaranteed by the First Amendment.  Perhaps, I will discuss this topic in greater length in a future blog post since I have seen several Mennonites I know who have either used mutual aid or their own funds to pay health, automobile, and funeral expenses because of the insurance prohibitions which they practice.  

Also, after church this past Sunday, the wife of one of my Mennonite friends invited Candice and I to their house for lunch where we have eaten on other occasions.  But, it turned out that this woman's father and step-mother were the assigned family to feed visitors that particular week and they also invited us to eat with them which we chose to do.  We have also known them for several years and used to buy fresh eggs from them for quite a while before I changed my eating habits more than a year ago.  It turned out that they had also invited a relatively young Mennonite couple and their four children to lunch who are members of another congregation in Grayson, Kentucky.   It was also our hosts 18th wedding anniversary which was mentioned but not made a great deal of.  I will mention that it is odd to see an elderly Mennonite couple who have been married such a short time.  But the first wife of this man died about 20 years ago of cancer and he married his current wife who was nearly his own age of roughly 50 or 55 and had never been married.  Their home was spotless which is how I have always found every Mennonite home I have ever visited.  The food was home raised, simple, delicious, and nutritious.  The wife gave Candice some leftover cucumber salad she had made along with a few cucumbers to make her own salad at home since she had liked the salad a great deal and made a point of saying so.  We stayed in the home about two hours and learned that the younger couple and their children, including the youngest girl who is less than 2, had just returned from a missionary trip to Guatemala.  The two older daughters, about 5 and 7, talked animatedly about how much they enjoyed Guatemala which is also interesting since I have rarely seen Mennonite children speak much in the company of other adults.  

Also, after church, I was stopped by another Mennonite woman who was inquiring about my having grown up in Knott County Kentucky where she had also grown up in a non-Mennonite home before converting and marrying a local man whom I have known for several years without having ever heard that his wife came from the same area I had.  We talked briefly about relatives we each had in Knott County and went our separate ways.  I would not be surprised if this doesn't lead to further such exchanges in the future.  

My wife and I will always maintain our business contacts and friendships in the local Mennonite community.  They are deeply religious, totally honest, hard working, self-sufficient, and respectable people who are frequently misunderstood.  I gain in many ways by knowing them and the small number of Amish friends I maintain also.  Once we set aside any prejudices or misunderstandings we have about these people, we stand to benefit in many ways which are impossible to foresee when we first meet them or encounter them in a business setting.  

Hiking The Dawkins Line Rail Trail, August 20, 2019

Gun Creek Tunnel--Photo by Corey B on AllTrails.com

Yesterday, August 20, 2019, I spent an hour hiking on the Dawkins Line Rail Trail in Johnson County Kentucky beginning at the Swamp Branch Trail Head and going up Swamp Branch for probably two miles.  My wife Candice was with me and, since she is in a wheelchair, she stayed on the porch of a building under construction by the Griffith Family Farms which is intended to be a camping store and camp site in the next year. Candice frequently goes with me when I go to public hiking sites and reads a book while she waits for me to get in my usual hour. I had heard about the Dawkins Line Rail Trail ever since it became an active idea a few years ago but I have always had reservations about the project and, after having seen part of, talked to one adjoining landowner and a three man trail crew, I still have reservations.  I did not have my camera with me and did not take any photos. The two photos I have shared here are from public websites with full attribution to the photographers. My initial reservations about this trail project arose from having worked in social services in Magoffin County for several years and living in three adjoining counties for much of my life.  Both Johnson and Magoffin Counties are deeply mired in the ongoing opioid epidemic and crime of many varieties is a fact of life in both counties through which the trail passes.  I will admit that, so far, my initial misgivings have not fully materialized which is great news for the users and for the adjoining community.  But after yesterday's experiences, I still have serious reservations about safety for unaccompanied hikers and mountain bikers as well as for individuals such as my wife who might be waiting at isolated places along the route while family and friends hike the trail. I encountered the three man trail crew about 45 minutes into my hike when I was about one mile from where Candice was waiting on me at Swamp Branch.  I was greatly relieved when they told me they had seen her and waved at her as they passed her location.  

The trail crew and I also discussed the feedback they receive from the local landowners along the route which they referred to as "a  mixed bag" of opinions.  When I inquired if it might not turn into a "pain on weekends" for some landowners, the crew agreed with me in a limited way while likely also attempting to stay well within state employee guidelines for avoiding making negative statements about their work and work site.  The trail is a classic rail to trail conversion of an abandoned rail line which runs for 18 miles currently from Royalton, Kentucky, in Magoffin County, to Hager Hill, Kentucky, in Johnson County with plans to expand it to 36 miles in the near future.  The old rail line actually runs within a few feet of many homes and private property.  It is frequently only a few feet away from ordinary hard working citizen occupants who are trying to live their normal lifestyles after seeing the neighborhood significantly change over a short period of time with an influx of strangers, horses, mountain bikes, and hikers over the last few years.  Most of the homes I saw are clean, well kept, and obviously cherished by the owners who never know from one minute to the next when a group of horse riders or mountain bikers will come passing by what used to be a completely private and purely residential setting which just happened to have an abandoned railroad nearby.  I have also heard rumors over the  years of impermissible ATV usage on the trail which both the trail crew and the one landowner I spoke with deny other than to say that maybe some locals will get on with an ATV for short distances to go to neighbors, family members, or other property in the area which I am sure many of them did regularly without consequence when the rails and ties were still in place and the railroad was simply an abandoned right of way.  

The physical setting of the trail is one of the most potentially scenic in the state although it does not have any significant overlooks of which I am aware. But for me the most significant weakness of the trail without consideration of possible crime is that it is an old railroad line and there is little shade while hiking.  The trail is hard packed pea gravel and not the typical leaf mold you find on most mountain trails. But the up side of that is that it is not very prone to significant muddiness because of the gravel surface.  The trail has a mild grade in the area I hiked in as it ascends to pass through a tunnel between Swamp Branch and Royalton to make the grade into the higher mountains of the upper Licking River near Royalton.  There are several well maintained wooden bridges which used to be railroad trestles.  There are actually signs posted in this area advising hikers to "call the Johnson County Sheriff's Office if you are menaced by a dog".  Most of the landowners seem to have dogs which is perfectly normal in that area.  I only heard a couple of barking dogs as I hiked and was not confronted by one anywhere along the way.  Most of the landowners seem to have either fenced in, tied up, or housed their dogs inside.  But after my hike, I drove up Swamp Branch on the paved county road in order to show Candice some of the area on which I had hiked. We did see one somewhat rundown home with nearly a half dozen large dogs tied to wooden houses in the yard.  I will also say that this particular house was the only one I saw which I would have described as rundown.  The neighbors do take generally excellent care of their property and do seem to restrain their dogs.  But for the combination of private land in close proximity; the possibility of aggressive dogs; the lack of shade in general; and the hard packed gravel surface, I did not come away liking the hike.  I do not recommend the trail for solo hikers or vulnerable hikers.  With more than 7,000 miles of experience riding horses on public highways from Michigan to Florida, I also do not like the possibility of being a horseback rider who encounters an aggressive dog on a less than well broken horse in what is still an isolated setting.  As for horseback riding, I consider that to be the most appropriate use of the trail since a horse gives a rider a somewhat faster retreat in the event of aggression from dogs or criminals.  Mountain bikers will also like the ride I suspect but they will be much more susceptible to attack from dogs than horseback riders might be.  The surface is well suited to training for long distance runners in small groups but I would not recommend it for any solo hiker or runner even though I will likely return alone to at least one or two other starting points in the near future to further assess the trail. My bottom line is that if you use the trail be sure to have a cell phone which might or might not have service in the mountainous area; carry a first aid kit which would be appropriate in case of dog bite since even a properly restrained large dog can escape and cause trouble; observe all the posted rules at the trail heads; and travel in the company of at least one other able bodied person.  

Abandoned House on Dawkins Line Rail Trail, Photo by Justin Lewandoski on AllTrails.com

"Under The Juniper Tree" by Emily Steiner--Book Review

Steiner, Emily. Under The Juniper Tree (Haines Printing, Northeast, PA, 2019)

My friend Emily Steiner has just completed and released her fourth novel and the third in her "Lilly Of Appalachia" series about a coal mining family in Harlan County Kentucky.  I have previously reviewed the first two books in the series and apparently played a productive role in the second, "Under Fire", for which Emily provided me the head swelling mention on the acknowledgements page of this book as having been "..a bottomless well of research material".  I must admit that I am flattered since I respect and like Emily a great deal.  All three of the books are directly available from Emily at her home address of Emily Steiner, 155 Memorial Gardens Road, West Liberty, KY 41472.  You can actually call Emily at 606-495-8090 and she will actually answer her own telephone and talk to you immediately or return your calls if she is busy.  The full set of books are available or each may be ordered individually.  This is what Emily says about pricing: "I charge 10.99 plus 2.75 for shipping for a single copy of the new book. (If it’s to someone in KY, there’s also sales tax.) The others are still 9.95, and will be until I reprint them in a few months. Then they’ll all be 10.99. I know this is sort of confusing... If you want to tell your people, I also offer a special in the whole set—28.00 plus shipping."  Since this is a self-published series of books, please allow me to say this about Emily and her professionalism.  Emily is the daughter of the manager of the editorial department at Rod and Staff Publishers, Crockett, KY, one of the two largest Mennonite publishing companies in the country, and she takes her writing and all aspects of publishing seriously.  Rod and Staff are not the publishers or printers of this book although they did publish another of her books which is more directly about life in a Mennonite family.  This book was printed by Haines Printing in Northeast, PA, a small Mennonite owned printer, and I have never seen more professional work from a small printer or publisher.  Based on having seen Emily's three novels, all of which were printed by Haines, I am willing to recommend them without reservations.  They do high quality, fully professional, crisp, tight, slick books which are comparable to the work being done by any publisher in America.  

But let's talk about this novel particularly.  It is the third, and Emily says the final, novel in the series about a poor Appalachian coal mining family from Harlan County Kentucky although most of this novel is set in a fictitious West Virginia called Three Springs.  The protagonist, Lilly Sherman and her husband, coal miner and strongly non-violent preacher Everette Sherman have left Harlan County because Everette's non-violence and refusal to participate in union activity have made him a target of violence during a strike which is detailed in the second novel, "Under Fire".  For those of you who, like me, strongly support trade unionism, let me say that Emily's discussions of and beliefs about trade unionism are strongly based in her Mennonite religion.  It is genuine, a basic part of core beliefs about life, morals, and religion and I respect her for it.  She and I disagree about this aspect of our lives but we disagree amicably and respectfully.  I value her friendship and respect a great deal and I believe that feeling is mutual.  Despite that difference of opinion, this is a book and a series of books that is worth reading for the Appalachian reader or the reader in coal country.  

Emily Steiner--Photo by the Steiner Family

This novel does not directly address the union movement at length and unionism and strikes are not a major part of this book.  Coal mining and life in a coal camp is a major part of the plot of this book.  The key characters of the novel are members of two extended families who live in the two sides of a typical coal camp duplex.  They are realistically drawn, believable, living and breathing humans who are working together to make the most of terrible lifestyle.  Coal camp life is realistically portrayed and I can assure you that Emily has done her research for all three books.  This book is filled with unemployment, coal mine disasters, and untimely death.  My most serious concern about the plot and the eventual resolution of the conflict in the book lies in the fact that the ending is, in my opinion, somewhat unrealistic.  But I am still pleased with the book as I have always been with the work of the author.  Her work is more mature from the first book to this one.  She is growing into the strong, young, female novelist I knew she would become based on the first book.  She is well worth reading and appreciating.  Use the contact information above and order at least one of these books.  Do yourself a real favor and order all three.  You can have the set for just a little more than the price of a hardback bestseller from a major publisher.  You will enjoy this book and it will give you a better understanding of coal camp life shortly after the turn of the twentieth century.  

Symbolism In The Death Of Woodstock 50

I was a budding hippie in Knott County Kentucky in August of 1969 when Woodstock took place.  But I did not go to Woodstock and I have wished for fifty years that I had.  I also did not go to the Summer of Love in San Francisco and for fifty years I have also regretted that.  But I did not have any desire to attend Woodstock 50 if it had ever happened in any of the potential sites which were considered for it.  Times have changed since Woodstock.  America has changed.  The world has changed and it has not changed for the better.  Woodstock was a wonderful photo of what America could have become and should have become.  Half a million people spent three days and nights in a muddy field and no one got hurt.  Three people died out of that half million.  There have always been unconfirmed rumors that one baby was born there.  No one fought.  No one was robbed.  No one was raped.  There were no murders in a place where that many people in an average American city, even of that time in 1969, would have had one or two murders.  But Woodstock set the stage for hope of ending an unjust war in Viet Nam, for hope of world peace, for hope that the human race could interact reasonably, peacefully, and sensibly. Woodstock was truly a cultural phenomenon.

In recent weeks, promoters attempted unsuccessfully to stage a Woodstock 50 commemoration of that greatest music festival ever held.  They failed miserably, and after numerous potential sites and performers withdrew, they threw their hands up in defeat.  Woodstock 50 did not happen and I fear greatly that it would have been a frail imitation of the original if it had occurred.  The music of today is barely music and most of the performers who are popular today would have pointed out exactly how much American music and performers have fallen short of performers and their music such as Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young; Jimmie Hendrix; Joe Cocker; and the Paul Butterfield Blues Band. Woodstock 50 obviously would have fallen far short of the half million attendees at the original if it had happened anywhere in America.  I suspect it would have fallen far short of that attendance even if it had been held in a major urban area with free tickets.  

Now let's talk about the  symbolism of that failure.  Woodstock 50 and its failure is a symbol of the failures in America which have resulted in not one, but two, mass murders in the past 24 hours with 19 dead in El Paso and 9 dead in Dayton.  Over the last fifty years, with Woodstock 50 standing as an apt symbol, we have deteriorated into a country where an illegal and TREASONOUS occupant of the White House is allowed to force innocent children to live and die in chain link cages.  We have deteriorated into a country where no crime is horrible enough in our alleged leaders to cause us to feel shock and disgust as a nation, just as Germany did in the 1930's and 1940's.  The United States of America has become the laughingstock of the world because we have not only allowed a TRAITOR to occupy the White House but have also lost the morals sufficient to remove that TRAITOR and hold him responsible for his crimes.  We have seen the sixth largest coal company in America shut down and write bad checks to hundreds of men and women all over the Appalachian coalfields and we have not seen any great public outrage.  We have tolerated more than one mass murder a day in 2019 without doing a damn thing to stop it by passing rational gun control legislation to stop  it.   

Woodstock 50 and its failure to get off the ground is an apt symbol for many of the ongoing failures in and of America today.  Please don't let it become the last or lasting symbol of this great country.  Help me fight to bring America back to sanity.  Stand Up, Speak Up, and Speak Out!