SOME TIME AGO

By Thurman I. Miller

 

At almost age ninety-two now, I strive to see backward through the haze of time. I have been witness to many strange changes across these many decades.  In the year of my birth,1919, the population of America 1919 was 104 million.  A three-bedroom house cost $4,000, and the average annual income was $1,158.  A new Ford cost $525 and a gallon of gasoline 25 cents.  One pound of bread was 10 cents and a gallon of milk 62 cents.  The 18th Amendment was ratified and Prohibition took effect in 1920, as did the 19th Amendment, giving women the right to vote.

 

Popular tunes of the times included “Let the Rest of the World Go By,” “Sailing Through,” “Swanee,” “How Ya Gonna Keep 'Em Down on the Farm,” “I’m forever Blowing Bubbles,” and “Alice Blue Gown.” (When I was in boot camp in September 1942 there was a singer who sang this last song almost every day). Woodrow Wilson was Commander-in-Chief and Thomas Riley Marshall was Vice President.

 

I have mentioned in other writings about our house burning down when I was ten months old.  Stories emerge, tempers flare. My Dad told one about his eldest son by his first marriage. Seems Gilbert was in the habit of throwing a temper tantrum and throwing his clothes in the fireplace. Gilbert had a beautiful silk shirt and got mad and threw it into the fireplace.  Dad just sat there and to Gilbert’s dismay, just let it burn.  Was that the cure? Maybe. He never tried it again.

 

As I began to grow, history was unfolding. The great war in Europe was to make all wars unnecessary, treaties signed, tempers in the political arena surfaced and peace at home began to unravel. Then the country entered the decade commonly referred to as the Roaring Twenties.  I grew in that ten years witnessing things very curious to me and I began to wonder what it was I was supposed to learn. I found out there was much drinking and moonshining about.  I noticed women wearing fox fur about their necks, including one which my sister-in-law had with its head still on. I went to school in the two room school near out home in Cedar Creek and thus began my education.

 

I will insert some modern-day science here to illustrate a point. We have news of the end of the space shuttle program. It is a sad commentary that from this point on our astronauts must hitch a ride on Russian space vehicles. True, our nation may continue with outer space exploration. This brings to mind the first orbiting of Sputnik, which was just a small ball of sorts. But it also brings to mind the age of my youngest son, for this happened in his birth year. It is hard to imagine how long ago the space race began. As I grew up there were the celestial bodies we gazed up at and never imagined a time when men would walk on one of these heavenly bodies. The words celestial and terrestrial have come closer together in the span of my lifetime. We developed the capability to explore the celestial domain and yet we have not conquered the depths of the terrestrial, although many wonders have been discovered and recovered from the depths of the oceans of the world.

 

And so from thirty years ago our space shuttle is mothballed. It is retired with many useful things gleaned from its myriad missions in space.  As for me, as I approach my 92nd birthday, it is uncertain now that this old frame begins to succumb to maladies invading the body. 

 

I am now the last member of a great Miller and Meadows family and I have tried these last few months to bring as many distant relatives to knowledge they wished to know.  So I begin now to profile my siblings as I remember them or via the information I have collected for those I was too young to actually remember.  In listing these siblings it is odd that the children of Eli Center and Nancy Farley, and of Elvira Rinehart and Sanford Meadows, were all born so close in years to each other and I list them in the order of their births.

 

 

The children of Eli Miller & Nancy Farley

 

The children of Sanford Meadows & Elvira Rinehart

 

The children of Eli Miller & Elvira Rinehart Meadows

 

Opal

William Preston

 

Gilbert

Dewey

Gladys

Nettie

Lillie

James (Buster)

Orpha

Huey

Thurman

Kermit

Mary

Kathy

Lee

Vinson

Dempsey

 

Della

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE MILLER/ MEADOWS FAMILY

 

We siblings span a great number of years. Our births range from the late 1800 up into the twenties. We are the product of three marriages. My Father, Eli center Miller was married first to Nancy Farley and there were five children from that union. Given that he was born in 1876 and his first-born is listed as having been born in 1897, he was a very young man when he married. I have no information as to his youthful days or the amount of education he may have had. Our father coped with his life problems as they confronted him and I now begin to list his children as best I can. Sadly, I have no information about his first wife that I could pass on to the grandchildren. I list his children as I knew them.

 

 Opal, born February 5, 1897, died July 5, 1970. She married Si Day early on and moved to the sunshine state of Florida where she rests now to await. I was, as a youngster, always somewhat in awe of Opal and Si when they came home to Appalachia to visit. Si always had a beautiful car and they always brought with them a degree of cheer. As for Dad, one of his children came to see him. Opal passed from this life and is buried beside her beloved brother, Gilbert and his beloved wife Elizabeth.

 

 Gilbert, after whom I named my firstborn, born April 8, 1901, died December 7th, 1937.  Sad to say I never got fully acquainted this brother of mine due to the difference in our ages. I have only vague memories of him living in the same house as I.  Gilbert married an elegant lady named Elizabeth Webb.  He worked some in and around the coal mines of WV.  Around the mines, he and his brother Kermit worked in tandem, Gilbert running the motor and Kermit his brakeman. They pulled coal around the mountain above Helen, where we later moved.  His brother-in-law Si Day (Opal’s husband) helped him get the job with the railroad. He pulled an engine loaded with several cars of freight of various kinds. After Gilbert and Elizabeth moved to Florida he got a job as engineer on a freight line.  One fateful day in December of 1937 his engine went off the track and he lost his life. He left behind two beautiful little daughters, Shirley Ann and Betty Jo, and their mother, Elizabeth.  I have always regretted not knowing this brother of mine better. He was relatively young at the time of his death and I was with my Dad up in Cedar Creek when a family friend came with the news. My Dad took the news hard and he and other members of the family travelled to Florida when Gilbert was buried down there

 

Third was Nettie, born May 7th 1903, died November 12, 1979. Nettie was better known to me than any other of Dad’s children by his first marriage.  I well remember her as I grew from first memory to the very day she died. She was, in many ways my favorite for she paid more attention to me and I have been told many times she took me for walks and indeed broke up with a boyfriend on account of me. He did not want to take me with them when they were walking and she just quit him. Once a year all of us younger Miller children were able to go up to Stotesbury and send a week among Dad’s children, for they worked there and we divided  most of the time between Orpha and Nettie. l remember a time after my wife Recie and I came home from the war and Gilbert was about a year old. We spent the night with Nettie and Harley and Gilbert cried all night.  The next day as we left Nettie told us to come back anytime and we told her we probably would never take Gilbert to anybody’s house again. (Ha.)  We loved to see all of them come on holidays, for they always brought something good when they came.

 

 Fourth was Orpha, born May 18, 1905, died February 2nd 1970. As with Gilbert, I have no memories of living in the same house with Orpha. They had been gone before my time. She and her husband Jim lived in Stotesbury and we spent time at their house. I remember we were at their house once for Christmas and their tree was beautiful and had lights on it, the first time I had ever seen blinking lights on a Christmas tree.  I also remember the times the whole family would visit us in Cedar Creek. We were always elated when they came. We loved to play games with their children Junior, Juanita and Margaret (Boggy, as she was better known).  After I came home from the Marine Corps I saw Orpha become very ill with cancer. She was in a hospital down in Charleston and I hitchhiked down there to visit her. Now, on my old 8mm films I see her walking down the street in Helen’s "Pig Pen Bottom," where we lived for ten years. I see her and I remember her as she is pictured in that footage. Orpha was a gentle, humble and soft spoken woman.

 

 Fifth was Kermit, born October 4, 1908, died May 25th, 1974.  Kermit was a quick study in many ways. He had a good sense of humor and, as with Nettie, I was a bit closer to him and he also lived in Stotesbury but as far as I remember, I never spent a night as their house. After Recie and I married we visited him and his wife Nita many times in Stotesbury and I always enjoyed those visits. Kermit was a happy-go-lucky guy and always had a grin for each of us. After he moved to Cleveland when the coal mines begin to dwindle he seem to draw away from us and we did not see him very often after that. When he became ill my brother Buck and I went to visit him and I never saw him alive after that. All of his children are now gone though I do not know about his daughter, Opal. She may yet be alive but I have not heard from her in years. We were always close to Kermit and his whole family.

 

THE MEADOWS/RINEHART FAMILY

 

Elvira’s married a man named Sanford Meadows.  Their first born William Preston was dead at birth about 1898. Dewey was born 1899, died 1915.  From information I gathered from all my living siblings about Dewey I wrote the story "Truck Wheels, A Continuing Legend," which I include below.

 

 

 Lillie Prudence was born May 21, 1901, died September 13, 1992.  As Dewey’s birth bid farewell to the 1800’s so Lillie ushered in the 1900’s. It has always been a known fact that we all loved Lillie, for after all she came from the same mother’s womb as we. She seemed at times to be bitter toward life itself and I suppose that may have stemmed from the hardships of her youth, age when the family was thrown into turmoil after their father died. Their mother was faced with the seemingly impossible task of caring for them with very little resources. In her last years she grew a bit closer to all of us Miller children and our father Eli, and she passed this life with our love in her waning days.

 

 Huey, born May 13, 1903, died July 1, 1971. Huey was a study when it came to personality. Some said they had known him for years and never got acquainted with him. I laughed and told them I was his brother and still could not figure him out. He always had a tousled look about him, his hair always ruffled up, and that coupled with a limp made him look as if he were under the influence even if he was not. Every now and then the police would see him and make walk the line.

 

When I first went to work in the mine I worked with him couple of months and he taught me many helpful things during that time, like how to read the mountain when a cave in was imminent. He was a good electrician and I never saw him stumped by any problem. He taught me how to work safely and I practiced that all through my coal mining years. In my transition from "marine to miner“ he played an important role in that period of my life.  It was a very difficult time in my life and I cherish the attention and patience he afforded me. Aside from being a good mine electrician, he was also a good auto mechanic. I saw him completely tear down one of his cars and the parts were scattered all over the yard. I remember saying to myself, I’ve got to watch this. Lo and behold he would pick up a part and knew exactly where it went. Though his education was limited he was a dictionary, an avid Bible reader, and could talk with anyone on their level. He shared this ability with his brother, Lee.

 

Huey had a little black & tan dog which followed him everywhere, even rode the belt into the mine and stayed with him the whole shift. (The company didn’t pay the dog a dime.) Someone stole the little dog and Huey spent three months searching for it and spent quite a bit of money on the quest. He never did find him. Huey and his wife Marie were a great help to Recie and me in our early marriage days. When my son Gilbert was born they let us move into the company house they were renting. We had been living in a little homemade trailer Huey had built. It was truly no place to start a family, and I have always been grateful to them for this. Their names appear on our certificate of marriage as witnesses,

 

 Mary, born 1905, died 1921. Such a tender and beautiful name, such a sadness to have her life taken so young, never having experienced the normal ways of a woman, to marry and have a family of her own.  I think she died of typhoid and she is buried up the right fork of Cedar Creek in the Jim Cook cemetery. Since I was only two years old at the time of her death I have no memory of her. As I write this and think of the heartache my mother endured in losing this lovely young daughter, coupled with the death of William Preston later Dewey and little Dempsey, I wonder how she maintained her unshakeable faith in God. It calls to mind the tender prayers she was able to say in spite of all this. She is united now with these she gave up and some great time in the future all will come together.

 

 Vinson, born Sept. 25, 1907, died February 2, 1996.  It was said of this brother of mine that he also suffered from a bout with typhoid fever. He was a young man of 19 when this malady came upon him. Prior to this, and I can only take the word of those closest to him, he was an energetic person and a very good worker. After he got well they say he was a different man with a different personality.  As I grew older and was around him more I found him very interesting. He was a very good baseball player and other teams would recruit him to play for them. He was also prone to just leaving home for days without any explanation as to where he was going. (I was also prone to do just that myself.)   But Vinson had a tender spot in his heart for children, especially those less fortunate, and always found something to give to them in order to bring them a bit of pleasure. We never knew how he came to have these things and we never asked. Later in life he married the widow of Russell Odell, and raised a family with her. Vinson moved out to California and it was there he passed this life.

 

 Lee, born May 31, 1909, died July 14, 1997. Lee was a strange man in many ways, yet his demeanor was a simple one based on how he himself was treated. When he was young he was stricken with a bone disease which caused him to be crippled for several years during which he was forced to use crutches. This caused a bit of bitterness in his life and I suppose it is understandable he felt this way, for in his mind he felt life had dealt him a deck he found difficult to play. But the side of Lee I choose to dwell on was after he was grown. He worked for several  years in the Wyoming Hotel in Mullens during which he came in contact with many interesting people. He learned things in that job he could not have gleaned from school (and I do not know how far he advanced in school). Lee was a reader and a listener. In this way he became far more learned than many college students. He kept up on current events and the world of politics. While in his job at the hotel he came to know many in that latter field.

 

Though Lee never claimed to be a devout Christian, he read the Bible quite a lot. His favorite book in the Bible, strangely enough, was the book of Job. He could name all three of Job’s friends and relate each one’s argument with Job that he must have done something terrible in order for God to bring such punishment upon him.  He could also quote Job’s answers to them.

 

After I went into the Marine Corps we kept in contact with each other as well as we could although there were weeks I was isolated from civilization and could not write. I mentioned to him once that I had no watch and during the war watches were hard to come by. Lee went to a jeweler and explained this to him and the jeweler sold him a wristwatch which Lee sent to me.

 

After coming home from the war I worked in the mine for a time with Lee and Buck. I was very sick and both Lee and Buck would see me crawl over in the gob and just fall out, too exhausted to work until I rested a bit. They both helped me to bear this burden and many times did my share of the hard work. Lee and his wife Syredah came to our home in Cedar Creek and to many cookouts we held whenever they came in from California. The many times Lee and I sat on our front porch just talking are the memories I retain about this beloved brother.

 

 Della, born December 23, 1911, died Sept. 24th, 2009. Della was always a study in human nature for me. She was the only one of Mom’s children by Sanford Meadows to achieve a partial education. She went to a college somewhere in Virginia I think (I seem to recall “Foster Falls”). She managed to put in two years there.  Della was the one child who never saw her father, for Elvira was carrying her when Sanford died. There was always a saying that any person who had never seen their father could cure thrush, which babies have a tendency to get. Della was called on occasionally to perform this but I never knew if it was real or not. For several years she and a man operated a place down on Rt. 3 out of Glen Daniels and we nicknamed it "The Joint." They had some work that needed to be done and got Buck and I to come down and work for them. They did not pay in cash but it was free room and board and all the soft drinks we could consume while we were there. We took real advantage of this, for we were not used to having all the soda pop we could drink, and we also took advantage of the candy. Della moved to California and, sad to say, became a compulsive gambler. She was the first to migrate to the west but eventually my brothers Huey, Lee, Vinson, Buck and Gladys all went out there and went to work for the Borax mine.

 

Della lived for several years longer than did her brothers. She would, in latter days, always begin a conversation with, "You know, I am the last of the Meadows children." She lived a long and interesting life and was mother to wonderful children and grandchildren and that in itself is an accomplishment to be proud of. As she lived most of her life in the west I was never privy to her innermost thoughts, except she always expressed herself plainly and let each of us know she cared for us. In the end of it all she was my sister and I loved her.

 

                                                     

The Children of Eli C. Miller and Elvira Rinehart Meadows Miller

 

The fact that my Dad and Mom later met and married after the death of their first spouses (as covered at length in my book Coal Bloom) is evident but I do not know how they met. I only know and remember the brothers and sisters of their previous mates. Perhaps it was mutual loneliness that drew them together. We of the Miller family became aware of a lack of closeness between those of the first families, although there was never any physical reaction from either side. It is a fact that we of Eli and Elvira’s children always referred to them as our brothers and sisters.

 

 Gladys, born September 26, 1916, died August 2, 2005.  When the Lord made Gladys he threw the mold away. Our first cousin Mable Sizemore Huff grew up with us and spent many nights with in our Cedar Creek homes. She and Gladys made a pair, a team if you will, and there was not much she would not do in order to get a laugh. One night during a revival by the Holiness people in the school house at Otsego the room was so full many sat in the open windows, it being in the summer, and even if one was out in the yard everything from within could easily be heard. Gladys and Mable came strolling around the back of the school house. They spied the back sides hanging out the windows and their combined mischievous minds went into over drive. With hands over mouth they began to snicker, for they both came to the same conclusion: What if we took a pin and punched a few in the hind end and run. They got out their pins, looked at each other, and let go with a couple of pin pricks where it was felt immediately. Those with the pain leapt out the window into the room with various grunts and yells. The Holiness preacher thought they were having a spiritual reaction to his message and he began to shout, which in effect caused many more to shout. Gladys and Mable made themselves scarce.

 

Eventually Gladys made her way to California and made a life there in the edge of the desert for several years. She lived with a man named Jack Neal after Johnny died and we visited them in Boron and Las Vegas in 1987. They made us very welcome and it was a good time for us. We made the trip with Buck and his wife Cleo and we always termed it the best vacation we had. We really enjoyed traveling with Buck and Cleo and had many laughs enroute out and back.

 

Gladys had a temper and she displayed it when people rubbed her the wrong way. But she loved her children and one of the saddest moments I shared with her was the night her daughter Drema passed away. Gladys had gone to Drema’s house in Maben and stayed with her until  till she was called away. Gladys was a well loved sister by any standard.

 

 James Edward ("Buck"), born May 15th, 1918, died February 12, 2001.  Buck and I grew into manhood together in the hills above the coal town of Otsego. Our sister Lillie and her family lived on up Cedar on another lease. Their oldest son Russell and Buck and I existed, as I put it in one of my writings, as a tripod. We ran the mountains together, played together and in general were inseparable. We worked hard on our farm when necessary and when time permitted played hard. Our games were often with Lillie and Fountain's two girls.

 

Buck was a boy with his own ideas of fair play. We had a mare which was our work horse when plowing time came but had other uses. We also rode the mare on occasion and one day there were four or five of us taking turns riding the mare. One boy rode his turn, then took another turn, which rightfully belonged to Buck. A quick look at Buck and I saw him start to spit. I knew this to be a sign of anger in him and I backed up a few paces to watch. When the boy came back to us Buck said "Get off."  He was ignored. The boy turned the mare, started another ride and Buck picked up a pine knot and threw it with unerring aim and caught the boy on the side of his head and knocked him off the mare. "I told you, dad blame it!" Buck was very much in love with a certain girl. The girl did not take him very serious and I told him any one could take her away from him. His anger kindled at me and one night there was a party up the other fork of Cedar Creek and I walked the girl home. Buck already knew about it somehow and when I got home he let me have a blow to my jaw and knocked me over the bed. I never fooled with his girl again. 

 

Buck joined the CCC and was provided with a uniform somewhat like the army wore. His shoes were shined to perfection and Russell or I one asked him what he used on his shoes. “I use Dubbin," he said. For some reason this triggered uncontrollable laughter from Russell and me and we laughed until our stomach hurt. The more Buck looked at us the angrier he got. He started spitting and seemed to be doing it out of both sides of his mouth, and we took off running. I never looked back to see how Russell fared but from then on when we saw Buck we yelled "Dubbin!" and ran.

 

Gladys came into the fun side of him. One day he let off a lot of gas and she heard it and it sounded long and like a cat—peeerrr toowww. She would sneak up behind him and make this sound. This made him fit to be tied and she made a hasty retreat.

 

Buck was a good artist. Over across the creek from our house was a big flat rock about five feet square. He painted a cowgirl on it and she stayed on the rock for many years. He drew a picture of a horse and it was beautiful. I often wished he had pursued this talent further.

 

When I was twenty I joined the Marine Corps. A little while after the war broke out he also joined the Corps and was shipped to the South pacific. After coming to Pavuvu I got a v-mail from him and he was on Guadalcanal, a mere sixty miles away. I put in a request to catch a plane to the Canal and word came he had shipped out the day before for Iwo Jima. This proved to be incorrect and he wound up on Guam. One of his duties on Guam was to assist a corporal doing inventory on a huge number of bolts and nuts. H would pick up a bolt, call out the size and the Corporal recorded it. One day as they were doing this a mouse ran across the floor. He, in the same tone of voice, said "One mouse, field." The Corporal dutifully recorded the same and they continued on. Buck had a good sense of humor. Russell passed away first and then in 2001 Buck passed away. I relive those carefree days when we roamed free in the great forest of the left fork of Cedar Creek.

 

 Thurman, born November 26, 1919.  My life is summed up in the four books I have written and published. They are informative, describing farm living, World War Two battles in the south Pacific and the dangerous work of coal mining which I did for thirty-five years. These books contain much in the way of family history along with this present writing.

 

 Kathleen, born May 15, 1921, died August 8, 2001. Kathy was born with one of her eyes closed, and it remained closed her entire life because of it. As she grew up I think she may have been sheltered too much by Mom and Dad. Of course this was not in any way a sign they did not love her; they could not bear having her feelings hurt by some who did not have tact. Also as she grew up she become a very good housekeeper and as both Mom and Dad worked the fields with the rest of us kids she took care of the house except for the cooking. She  had a good sense of humor. One day Burl McComas came down the road holding a rope stretched very taut. Kathy yelled at him and asked where in the world he was taking the cow. To the bull, yelled Burl, and Kathy, before thinking, said “Looks like the cow is taking you!” She had embarrassed herself and ran into the house. We all had a good belly laugh.

 

Kathy was always a devout Christian. She became the Sunday School teacher for the small children. The pastor she was the best teacher the small ones had ever had. She, he said, is the only teacher I have been around that actually taught little children how to pray. When Gilbert and Gloria were small and Recie and I had to be away Kathy was the only one we would trust to take care of them. I never worried when she kept them.

 

Late in life Kathy married Sterlie Cook. Though they had their ups and downs, as do all of us, in his latter days he was very good to her. He passed away before she did. One day Kathy found a knot on her neck and eventually it spread to her vitals and finally took her life. She died a peaceful death and I was there for several hours before she died and every now and then she would raise her hand up and talk to our mother. "No, no, Mommy, I can't go yet," she repeated, and Dr. Roberts said she had some unfinished business here to take care of.

 

My mother’s last child, Dempsey, died in infancy 1923, and no pictures survive.  My brother Lee penned a little story entitled "The Tiny Coffin" which I included in my first book and also reprint below, and I gave Lee full credit for having written it. A beautiful story, well written and fitting.

 

 

Finally, I alone remain as the last member of this Miller/Meadows/Rinehart clan. Through the years I have tried to knit together a sort of family history with my old box camera, my 8mm movie camera and newer models of movie camera as they became available. For some half century I have taken movies of the various family members. It is possible now to view these movies and see my mother and father, my wife Recie's parents and siblings, and many other historic events and photos of life as it unfolded. It is a rare and God-given pleasure now for me, at age 92, to sit down in front of my TV, turn on my laptop computer, and watch all my children grow up, watch my grandchildren as they came into the world. and now a great-great-grandson. To me this is a blessing well beyond what I might have expected from life.

 

For my remaining days here on this little orb I suppose it is in the will of God for someone, like me, to attempt to fill in the blanks.

 

Thurman Irving Miller

October 18, 2011

 

Truck Wheels: A Continuing Legend

 

We journeyed to Troutville, Virginia to visit my sister Lillie. Seeing her there, her lined face and stooped shoulders, I was reminded of the fact that it had been exactly one year since we had visited my brothers and sisters in California. It was obvious that if I were ever to put together the story of the little truck wheels, I had better be about it. Otherwise, the information would be lost.

What I am about to relay to you, reader, will necessarily be part fiction or, rather, posed in hypothetical terms. However, I will try to present to you those facts I have been given. God willing, your questions will be answered in such a way as not to offend any member of the family, whether Meadows or Miller.

            In order to visualize the wheels you might simply go to the nearest railroad track and pick a car at random. You will notice that all the cargo cars are equipped with two sets of wheels on each end. The wheels I‘m writing about were miniatures of those, each wheel about eight inches in diameter with a connecting axle about an inch and a quarter in diameter, and overall about fourteen inches long.

Who owned them? The Meadows side of the family, my mother‘s side, did. To put this into perspective, when the truck wheels came into the Meadows family my father, Eli Center, had not yet met Elvira, our mother. The wheels were given to Dewey Meadows, the oldest of mother‘s children by her first husband, Sanford Meadows, when Dewey was small. I do not know what the wheels were originally used for or where indeed they came from, but they were a gift to Dewey from a man named Boyd Akers. His connection to the family I do not know. When he gave the wheels to Dewey he made him pledge to always remember his name as the one who gave him the gift. At a time when money was scarce the wheels were truly a prized possession.

            On April 28, 1914 there was a huge coal mine explosion at Eccles, West Virginia. (Eccles is located about six miles west of Beckley on Route 3.) This explosion killed one hundred and ninety men. Their names are recorded in the book They Died in Darkness by Lacy A. Dillon. Boyd Akers died in that explosion. We can only guess what value Dewey himself placed on the gift, or to what extent he used them for his own benefit. They were his and he could delegate this one or that one to play with them, or loan them out according to his own youthful judgment. We can only speculate on Dewey‘s thoughts: The young boy absentmindedly kicked up the brown leaves in his path and thought that thirteen or fourteen was very old. Why was I thrust into this position?  At this age both his peers and his elders looked him upon as a mere boy, but for all practical purposes he was a man on his own. What will Mom do if I go? he asked himself. Can she survive with the rest of the little ones?  But his mind harkened back to a time when she had prevailed in the face of hunger and privation. There had been, and these still were, hard times, where it was necessary even to count out the beans from the bowl in order to assure everyone an equal share.

Somewhere in his mind, though, there rested a word he had heard many times before: Faith. Many times he had considered it a hollow word. He reasoned that it would not fill an empty stomach. But he remembered his mother explaining the meaning of the word and he heard her say, Faith is the substance of things hoped for. He realized that she looked to a higher plane for help. So, the substance of things hoped for. He hoped for things. One in particular was for a job so he could contribute to the welfare of the family.

He had learned from some of his late father‘s relatives of a possible job in a coal mine in Fayette County. He reasoned that this news was evidence of his mother‘s faith in God and human nature. With these thoughts swelling in his breast he made his plans. He prepared to leave his home, his mother and sisters and brothers, in hopes of securing a better way of life for them all.

His idea was to have the entire family move to wherever he found work. In that period a young man need only be twelve or older to work in the mines. There may have been more personal reasons for his leaving. Perhaps he felt, with the coming of manhood, a need to exert himself, to find the answers to life‘s questions. If so, I have common ground with this brother whom I never knew.

He turned for a final backward glance at the house and yard where he had lived. His eyes chanced to fall upon a prized possession of his in the fence corner of the yard. He thought to himself that he should remind his mother about the wheels. He yelled out to her, "Mom, don‘t forget to pack the wheels when you move."  With this final admonition he turned and strode out of the yard on the first leg of his journey.

We can again only speculate. Was it a tender leaving? Did he dread facing the world?

His mother stood in the doorway for a moment and watched her children play. Her thoughts centered, for a moment, on the youngest. She would have gathered them all around her skirts as a hen gathers her brood, but there was work to be done. She cast her eyes skyward for a moment and quietly recited a verse of scripture dear to her. I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help.  Indeed, she had lifted her eyes upward many times in the past for spiritual guidance.

She had journeyed south to Florida with her husband and little ones in search of a better way of life. But in the land of sunshine she had lost the precious husband God had given to her, and she didn‘t know why. She only knew she was left alone to care for the many small ones. Her only recourse was to retrace her path back to the great mountains where she had been raised, back to her kin. To ask for help, to beg if necessary, to work, certainly, and to reassure herself that God would help her. She came back to misfortune. She longed for independence, but found none. She longed for togetherness, but it evaded her. She began by taking in washing, by doing any type of domestic chore that would bring in a little money. She ran a boardinghouse for a time.

She tried many things to make life workable. Now she looked again at the children at play and again sought out the youngest. Realizing she had never known her own father brought an extra sadness to her face. She saw the boys playing in their faded clothes and again thought of the limited worldly goods she was able to give them. She wondered what fate might have in store for them. She saw the girls at play in their equally faded dresses and longed silently for the day when she could view them in a more elegant setting.

She was jolted back to the real world. She saw a dismal future. She knew her only solace was in knowing God, her maker. From the corner of her eye she saw her eldest son coming up the pathway. He had grown up too quickly, for he had assumed the responsibility of seeing that his mother and the little ones were provided with the basics of life. She also could tell by the deliberate way he looked at her that something was on his youthful mind, some scheme she could only guess at. He strode toward her and announced that he was off to look for work in the coal mine. She seemed to hear his next words before they were even formed. A sense only mothers seem to possess. His last words before walking out of the yard were, “Mom, look after the wheels.” She watched his back disappear around the curve. She turned abruptly and entered the house to set about the task of preparing a meager meal for her children.

A few days later Dewey approached the mountain where he was to search for work and found the narrow trail leading up to the mine track and eventually to the mine entrance. He studied the rails and the gauge of the track as he walked along the winding haulway. A ground squirrel crossed rapidly in front of him. Perhaps a snake was after it. He paused momentarily to watch the circle of a buzzard. He noted the brightness of the day and wondered at the beauty of the land. He was totally unaware of the coal car bearing down on him from behind A relative soon appeared at her door. She needn‘t listen to his words, only read his expression. Something dreadful was about to be announced. She silently prayed for inner strength. She listened as if she were far away in another land.

But the words came nonetheless. "Elvira, I just helped set Dewey‘s coffin on the platform at the depot."

I have no reed to measure her grief. I only know I saw the same thing repeated some years later when my own Dad lost my half-brother Gilbert.

They buried Dewey on the mountaintop above Mullens, West Virginia. After Dewey died Mother strove to cope with life, her struggles magnified, her hunger increased, her despair deeper. Her children grew even more despondent. But eventually she crossed paths with a man and had also lost a mate. Perhaps they were drawn together in mutual loneliness. Both had children of their own, and soon more children began to come from their union. I am one of four of those children to survive into adulthood.

From this point many on both sides of the family played the role of keeper of the truck wheels. Lee remembers our brother Kermit selling them to a junk dealer. Upon hearing of this my Dad quickly made him go and get them back. Vinson recalls seeing Dad pick up the wheels and return them to a safe place in the yard. Gladys remembers seeing Dad dig them out of the snow and take them to the corner by the chimney, where they usually sat in winter. Some tell of Uncle Hiram, our mother‘s brother, having them a couple of years. My mother‘s sister Lillie kept them a time.

In the early 1950‘s various members of our family began to migrate to California to get work. Eventually the wheels were taken there, in the possession of first one and then another. One day Buck found the wheels half-buried in the sand and thought it would be fitting to shape them into a memorial to Dewey. He incorporated them into a miniature locomotive sitting on a wooden track, a pretty thing to have in one‘s living room. I am completely satisfied he had no intention of laying any personal claim to the wheels, but rather only thought of their preservation as our Dad had in the past.

So, the answer to the question of who became the keepers of the wheels is a lengthy one. The answer is left to the thoughts of every one of us for is it not a fact that we were all bound together by the common bond that we all came from our mother‘s womb? We all loved her and while she was yet in the flesh she demonstrated her love for all of us.

There came a day when Buck dismantled the small engine and returned the wheels to one of Dewey‘s full siblings, and rightly so. Eventually, they determined that a final, lasting memorial should be made of them, and so Buck brought them home to the mountaintop where Dewey was buried.

With the help of family friends the Whitt brothers, James and Joseph, Buck embedded the wheels in concrete on top of Dewey‘s grave. They have come full circle back home, where all our roots lie.

 

My late brother Lee wrote the following account of my brother Dempsey who

died in infancy.

 

The Tiny Coffin

 

The exact date escapes me, but it was along in the early nineteen twenties. There was my mother and stepfather and their four children. Their names, beginning at the oldest, were Gladys Lucille, James Edward, Thurman Irving, and Kathleen Shirley. Some time after Kathleen was born there came a fifth one to the family. It was a male child and was taken by death within hours after birth.

Pop, as I always called Mr. Miller, named him Dempsey. I always thought he was named after the boxer Jack Dempsey. That, however, is just a guess.

I‘m sure most everyone has heard of the extremely hard times in that era, so it will suffice to say there was money enough in the family for only the barest necessities. Yet the baby had to be buried.

Pop got his tools from the toolbox and sharpened the ones he needed. He went

in search of the best material he could find. Uncle Will Owen Whitt came down from his home and together they went to work. After some time they finally settled on a large poplar board log which they took from the fence. It wasn‘t much for looks, but when they began to work it over with the small jackplane it slowly began to improve. Their tools and material were so limited they had to use broken glass as a substitute for sandpaper. As they carved and scraped away, I began to wonder what people would think of someone being buried in a homemade coffin.

But when the tiny coffin began to take shape I knew in my heart that it would make no difference. Before my eyes it was turning into a beautiful little coffin. One of the grandmothers acquired a very large piece of white cloth and began to make pleats for the lining. Every pleat, like every stitch, was perfect.

With some small scraps of yarn she made a beautiful flower, a tulip, on the lid. They took one of the pillows off the bed and ripped it open to have enough padding for the bottom of the coffin.

Pop picked it up under his arm. Together they buried it nearby.

Many years later I watched as the news media depicted the President of the United States in a similar incident in which his baby about the same age died in Washington, D.C. I thought to myself as the President was carrying that little coffin under his arm, there was a man with all the power and money within his grasp, and he could not impress me nearly as much as two elderly men back in the Appalachian Mountains of West Virginia. With their meager

means and with their hearts and souls, they created something that all the Kennedy millions could not buy.

I sometimes wonder why some people are taken from this life before their lips are able to form a word, while others travel the full length, taking their last few painful steps with the aid of a crutch or and cane. Yet these facts are true, and we must accept them as the way God our Creator intended it. I believe that those three, Mom, Pop, and little Dempsey, are somewhere in the vast reaches of limitless space and are reunited in eternal bliss, along with many others now gone on to claim their just reward.

 

This account of the way of life in those trying years tend to emphasis the resourcefulness of men and women for when a need arose, regardless of cause or consequences,those near always came through with help. This, I think. was the reason survival was in the forefront of all the participants of that era.