You might be a Redneck

The phrase "You might be a Redneck", popularized by Jeff Foxworthy and defined by Merriam-Webster as a "a white person who lives in a small town or in the country especially in the southern U.S, who typically has a working-class job, and who is seen by others as being uneducated and having opinions and attitudes that are offensive", had an entirely different meaning in the 1920's.

How does this fit into my Rhea family history? One of the reasons my grandmother refused to live in the tiny area surrounding Sneedville, Tennessee was the mine. The only way to make extra money was to work in the mine and she didn't want that for her husband. So, in 1914, William Ogden Rhea and Mellie Farris Rhea, packed their bags and headed north until their money ran out in Billings, Montana.

William Ogden Rhea and Mellie (Farris) Rhea in Los Angeles, California, visiting my newly married parents in August 1947. 

The rest of the family, Martha Jane Rhea, my great grandmother, and three of the kids, continued to farm the land along the Clinch River. They did quite well supporting themselves by growing corn and tobacco. However, several family members were lured into working the mine for the money to supplement the farm income. The working conditions for the miners were brutal all through the Appalachian Mountains. There were no safeguards, the worker's and their families were terrorized, and working the mines brought black lung and other respiratory illnesses.

In a letter to my grandparents on January 1, 1919, Martha Jane Rhea wrote:

"The mining people is going slow. Wages for common work is $1.50, carpenter $3.00 or $3.50. A man by the name of Coberly from Joplin, M.O. is here to setup their machinery. His family is here. They claim to have one million and quarter dollars worth of mineral in sight." Big money for the investors, nothing for the miners.

It all came to a head in 1921 at the Battle of Blair Mountain in West Virginia when more than 10,000 coal miners confronted state and federal troops. Their goal was to unionize the Southwestern West Virginia mine counties. The labor laws in effect today were largely due to this battle for better working conditions. It was the biggest armed uprising in American labor history.

The protesting miners at Blair Mountain wore red bandannas around their necks, hence the term "Redneck". In this short video of the struggle, the bandannas can be seen in some of the pictures.

Do you have Rednecks in your family?

Sheldon Livesay - Someday an ancestor but right now, please help him feed the hungry in Eastern Tennessee

Someday Sheldon will be an ancestor. Our grandfathers were brothers. They lived in Sneedville, Tennessee where they eked out a living farming land along the Clinch River. The beauty of the area is breathtaking. Unfortunately, this portion of Appalachia is one of the most depressed areas in our country. While we support all the other causes around the world, this little area is overlooked. Children are hungry here. 

Along comes Sheldon Livesay, who says that God called him to involve himself in helping the poor where he lives. It has became much bigger and from there it became Of One Accord Ministry. With a small staff and wonderful volunteers, they are making a difference. 

My cousin Patty and I, traveled there in 2013 to see where our family came from and to meet Sheldon. It was a remarkable trip where we learned more about our family history but what we came away with was an appreciation for how fortunate we are. Sheldon and the people in the area run an outreach program that not only shares the message of God's love, they make a real difference in the lives of the people in their area. 

Patty at Amis Mill Eatery where Sheldon took us to eat. The mill was part of our family history. 

News report about "Of One Accord Ministry". This is the story Sheldon told us at lunch that day. 

Older "Of One Accord Ministry" video but does show all the ways they make a difference. 

At Christmas, when we fill red buckets for the Salvation Army and donate for the food drives in our area, please think about sharing a little with Sheldon and "Of One Accord Ministries".  

Day 9 - The home place

Jane loved her cliff house. As a wedding gift, John and his brothers had taken Sterling’s idea and turned it into a reality. The little house, built in 1885, had two large rooms. The front room with the view of the river held the sitting room and kitchen. The large wood cooking stove was enough to heat the house in the winter and the windows opened in the summer to keep the house cool. The granite back wall held a constant temperature making it perfect for the bedroom. Andrew was born the year after they married. He was an adorable child and always happy. Mary Leoni came along two years later. For the growing family, they added a wall in the backroom to afford themselves some privacy. The house was a little crowded as the kids starting walking but it was still comfortable.

However, when Jane found herself pregnant with the third child, it became apparent that more space was needed. Laura was born in 1870. With three kids, the crowding became more evident. Jane wanted to add on to the cliff house but there wasn’t much room. Not wanting to bother John with her concerns, she started scouting for land to build a new house. There was plenty to choose from since the family shared the acres and it was open to all.

She knew she didn’t want to live in the Hollow. She had grown up on the river and was loath to leave it. Like many people, the river held her captive. She couldn't imagine living without it as a background. Not far from the cliff house was a piece of land. The farmland was on the river and she knew that flooding could destroy it but the river didn’t flood all that often. There was a hill backing up the farmland that had a small plateau, plenty big enough for a large house and eventually a pump house. There was a stream that ran next to the property that would provide easy access to water. The river would be visible from the house and yet, not so close as to be overwhelming.

She sat doodling at the table next to the oil lamp. The three kids were asleep and John had gone to town. It was late and he would probably stay over and return in the morning. Town was several miles away and not a safe trip in the dark.

She drew her idea of the ideal house. It would be two stories. Their bedroom would be on the top floor with a window opening on the view of the crops and the river. It would be big enough for their bed, a crib for the babies, and a separate area for a closet and area to wash up. The other half of the upstairs could be split into two rooms. One for the boys and one for the girls. Downstairs, she drew a kitchen area and a separate area for family and friends to visit. She didn’t expect fancy stuff so she left out a bathroom but did add a large pantry. She figured the outhouse would fit nicely in the back of the house, close enough for the kids to get to without being in the way. Of course, the land would have to have room for the chickens and other livestock.

She drew her idea of the front of the house. It had a large porch so she could relax there when the work was done. The kitchen also had a view of the river as did the front room. The door opened into the middle of the house and the stairs were directly in front. Her bedroom had two large windows and adding curtains as a touch of whimsy, she blew out the light and went to bed.

John woke her early in the morning as he returned from town. His business had been successful and they had a new horse to add. It would be helpful with the plow and the kids could learn to ride. In fact, they could use the horse to go to school since it was quite a distance from their home. Jane had taught the kids their letters and they were quick learners. They wouldn't be able to go all the time but the horse would be helpful.

John picked up the drawings that Jane had left of the table.

“What’s this,” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she replied. “I was just doodling before bed. Give them to me and I will throw them away.”

“Nothing doing,” he said, “but I did make a slight alteration.”

She looked confused.

“I saw them when I came in. Looks pretty interesting but don’t you think you’d want a balcony from the bedroom? It would be a nice place to enjoy the mornings and the evenings. See, I drew it in for you."

Sure enough, the balcony was there. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“You’re not the only one to think this place is getting a little too small,” John remarked.

Set back against the hill, the daunting task of building the house took on a life of its own. The forested area had to be cut back. This was helpful as John and Sterling loaded the cut trees on the wagon to take to the sawmill. There was plenty of natural materials to build the house. The river roared on. It was spring and the snow was melting in the hills beyond. The river was higher than normal so it made bringing in the materials even harder as the dirt road tended to wash out.

Jane was busy removing any plants growing at the cliff house. Some of the vegetables from the previous year had self-seeded and she was not going to leave them behind. The kids were excited and split their time helping their mother and getting in their father’s way. He loved the help although some of it had to be redone. It was good for Andrew to learn new skills that he would need when he was grown. He figured he had lots of time to teach him but starting young was a good idea.

The foundation was the hard part. The house site was level with the river. Unlike the cliff house, it needed to be raised a good six feet. George, Jesse, and Lafayette were given the challenge to find flat rocks that would form the foundation. Once the foundation was set, the four brothers started with the construction. Jane wasn’t picky but did have an idea that it would be nice to have the porch and balcony decorated with cross lattice work. She also wanted the window to have real working shutters to keep the cold out when it snowed.

It took six weeks to complete the house. It might have been done faster but John and his brother’s had crops to get in. They planted the corn and tobacco between the road and the river. It was good fertile soil and they all shared in the work for equal profit. Tobacco was a good cash crop and the corn was used for food and feeding the animals.

While the guys were busy, Jane finished the garden and started stringing new beds for the kids. Andrew had his own room. He was the only boy. Eventually, she hoped, he would have to share it. She made a new bed for Mary Leoni who was 2 and a new crib for baby Laura. They would share the second bedroom. She plucked enough feathers to make new mattresses and when the house was finished, everything would be ready to move in. The furniture John had made for them was special and she looked forward to putting it in their new bedroom overlooking the river.

Moving day had arrived. They loaded the wagon with the rest of their belongings. It was a beautiful day and the weather was fine. The baby would not remember the day but Andrew would. He would talk about the day they moved into the new house with the memory of a 4 year old child. He would only live to enjoy it for 10 days for he passed away at age 14 in 1880. Victor, William, and Lillie would never know him but the other kids would share his joy at the new house and so he lived on in their hearts.

Originally, Jane was loath to leave the cliff house but soon found that the “Home Place”, which it would be known as, was her true home. It lasted 100 years until it was consumed by fire in the 1990’s. 

Note: What remains today is the foundation. The trees that were cut down in 1870 have consumed the land once more. The stream still runs next to the house. The river still floods but the foundation of the “Home Place” survives. Just as the foundation of the home still remains, it is also the foundation of the family and it endures as well.

The Family History Writing Challenge is coming.

February 1 - 28, 2014

I did this challenge last year and have a lot of disconnected stories and facts. That was actually helpful as it made me really work to find information. This year I am better prepared so for 28 days, I will try to put it into some sort of order.

My subject is Martha Jane McCollum. She was my great grandmother and captured my attention when I found myself in possession of five letters she wrote to my grandparents in 1918 and 1919. The letters were time capsules into the past and provided information on all the families in Sneedville, Tennessee.

I wanted to know more about her so I spent the last year searching for her. I was fortunate enough to make a trip to Tennessee and see the area where she lived. It has made a difference in how I view her. I also found new facts that changed my perception of her and her life.

The challenge should be interesting. What started as creative non-fiction has turned into historical fiction. It won't be perfect because it will be the first time I have tried to write her story in some sort of order. She was an interesting woman who struggled and rose above all the challenges to raise her children. I think she did well.

The past and present meet

My grandfather was a tall, lanky man who topped well over six feet. His mother was small and we don't know what my great grandfather looked like but I am going to make the assumption that he was also tall and lanky. My dad and his brothers were all over six feet as are my sons. 

John Carter Rhea was my great grandfather. He served in the Confederate Army, Company D, Tennessee 29th Infantry Regiment. My son is a Civil War reinactor. He is the one in the foreground. I was taken with this photo because with a little imagination, this might have been my great grandfather 150 years ago.   

The Greens of Tennessee

As I write this, I can look out my window and see the dried vegetation in the field across the street. Further out, our hills are covered in tan and the mountains that loom over our small valley, are different shades of brown. Except for the trees and plants watered daily in our valley, our summer colors are brown and tan.  

Tennessee was a revelation. Never do I remember seeing so much green. Everywhere you turn, the greens are overwhelming. It was like being transported to a different planet.

This is the view from where the home place stood. This is where my grandfather would have played as a child and farmed as a youth. All of the land between the road and the house to the river was planted. In the center of the picture is the Clinch River. I didn't have a visual from the older pictures but now see that the river was very much a part of their lives. My great grandmother talks about flooding and now I see why.

 

This photo was taken in 1982. My dad, on the left, is with two of his cousins. This was his first trip to Tennessee and the first time he saw the home place. Somewhere between then and now, the house burned and is no longer there. What is left is the foundation. 

This appears to be what is left of the pump house, which was on the left in the picture above. The forest is taking back its own and this is all that's left. What struck me is that although the house is gone and those who lived here are gone, the foundation of our family still stands. And while the forest may eventually obscure all,  the mark they made on this land will never diminish.

I am in Tennessee - Finding roots

The house place in Sneedville is long gone. Sheldon Livesay, a 2nd cousin and head of the Of One Accord ministry in Rogersville, says he thinks it burned down. There is only the foundation of rocks. I am disappointed but we walked on the farm. It was very large and the original land grant was 1000 acres.

For the first time, there is a visual of the home place. My grandfather played in the field and the river. I finally have an understanding of the topography. I was disappointed the house was gone but at the same time, delighted to see the river from the road. They lived in an incredibly beautiful spot; a small river valley between two hills. I understand all those things that my great grandmother mentioned in her letters.

Now my cousin and I are off to Nashville and beyond. The adventure continues.

2 weeks and counting

Growing up, we learned nothing about out Tennessee family. We knew they existed but it was never anyone's priority to share any information other than my great grandfather was murdered in front of his family. I can't think of a single other fact that was discussed.

Many years later, my mother got hooked on genealogy. My parents made a trip to the 1982 World Fair in Knoxville. It was then that my father met his Tennessee cousins for the very first time at the age of 60.

Things tend to repeat themselves so at roughly the same age, I am going to Tennessee. It's two weeks and counting. I have made arrangements to meet some cousins and to have the Sneedville Historical Society open for us to research. My companion on this trip is my cousin who knows as much (or as little) as I know about the family.

Patty and I are surprised at how we accepted the fact that the family was out there but not part of our lives. It might have to do with age but now we want know. These are our roots and part of who we are.

I can describe in detail, Montana and Texas. That's where my parents are from and we spent lots of time traveling to those states. That history is no surprise and I have a very complete family tree on my mother's side. It's my dad's side that has all the mystery. In fact, after we tackle my grandfather's family, I am going after my grandmother's story.

So I am packing. I am taking my family group sheets. I am taking my scanner and camera. I am going to meet my ancestors on their own turf and see what they have to tell me.

Wishful Wednesday - Who was Martha Jane McColloam?

Martha Jane McCollum was my great grandmother. Somehow, I can't seem to let her go. I want, or more so, need to understand who she was. I have five letters she wrote to my grandfather. I have read them over and over again. Still, she eludes me.

The other day at baseball practice when I was refusing to get out of the car, I wrote down the things I know about her from the letters. Maybe they don't add up to a lot but it's a start.

She had a strong tie to her children.
Her children did not want to disappoint her.
She had a great love for her grandchildren.
She was a hard worker.
She managed the farm.
She did not remarry after her husband was murdered.
She was on good terms with her daughter-in-laws and son-in-laws, at least those who lived in town.
She was money savvy.
She was business minded.
She was observant.
She believed in God.
She was in tune with the weather.
She could read and write.
She worried about her children.
She shared into about the community but was not a gossip.
She was never unkind in her comments but some were made with humor.
She was well aware of the event going on in the world.

This is a Wishful Wednesday post so what do I wish? I want to post this and have it all rearrange itself into a full and complete person who I can understand.

Part of the problem I am having is that I have no frame of reference, no setting. In three weeks, I am going to Tennessee, to Sneedville. I will be able to see where she lived. I will be able to walk in her steps. I need to take what I know and add it to what I will see, what I will find. Then maybe, this ultra-strong, self-reliant woman will reveal herself to me. When I have that down, I will be able to move onto the others who are crowding my mind, demanding a hearing.

I'm going to Tennessee!

Due to my gracious cousin Patty, we are making a pilgrimage to Tennessee to see where our grandfather grew up and to understand the area that made him who he was. We are going to the Historical Society to see what we can find about our great grandmother. We have a cousin there who is going to show us where the Rhea land grant was so we can see where they lived. This is more exciting than I thought because I never believed I would have this opportunity.

There is so much that I want to know. Facts and records tell only part of the story. I want to walk on the land, take in the sights and hear the river. I want to walk in their footsteps.

We never went to Tennessee as children. Our parents (my dad and her dad) never took us to see where Grandpa was from. We didn't hear much about that side of the family and it was only when my parents went there in the 1980's that we had any pictures or ideas what it was like. We heard the stories that were passed down and it wasn't until recently that we were able to confirm them.

The thought of going there makes me weepy. How much richer could our lives have been if we knew that part of the family? My mother had a large family in Texas and we were there a lot. My dad's family was only his parents and two brothers. We spent time with our grandparents, cousins and two uncles but never with any of my grandma's or my grandpa's extended families. We knew they were out there but only as abstracts. 

We have a short amount of time and lots of places to visit. I firmly believe that to write my great grandmother's story, I need to understand her surrounding. This is a gift that I am going to take full advantage of.

Annual Decoration Day – Day 22 of the Family History Writing Challenge

A quote from Wikipedia:

“Annual Decoration Days for particular cemeteries are held on a Sunday in late spring or early summer in some rural areas of the American South, notably in the mountains. In cases involving a family graveyard where remote ancestors as well as those who were deceased more recently are buried, this may take on the character of an extended family reunion to which some people travel hundreds of miles. People gather on the designated day, put flowers on graves, and renew contacts with kinfolk and others. There often is a religious service and a "dinner on the ground," the traditional term for a potluck meal in which people used to spread the dishes out on sheets or tablecloths on the grass. It is believed that this practice began before the American Civil War and thus may reflect the real origin of the "memorial day" idea.” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Memorial_Day)

As a child, I remember Decoration Day. We must have been in Texas visiting my mother’s family. I don’t remember a lot about it other than it had to do with food. I do remember the tablecloth on the ground with dishes full of great flavors. Now, this tradition seems to be a long lost memory.

We are planning a trip to Tennessee and I will have the opportunity to visit the grave of my great grandmother and other family members. Since Memorial Day falls into the period for the proposed trip, Decoration Day takes on additional meaning, I can see us having a picnic at the graveside. Decoration Day or not, we would still be going there to honor those who have gone on before. This just adds the tradition that I am sure was done in their time. Somehow, it seems to bring us closer.

The whole genealogy, family history trek started out with just birth dates, death dates, marriage, and children listed on a page. While it was gratifying to learn about these ancestors, it somehow was not enough. I really wanted to know these people, who they were, what they dreamed of, what they wanted.

I was fortunate to find some letters and documents to aid in the research. I searched my memories for stories and compared notes with other family members. I was lucky enough to find more distant cousins who were interested and learned what I could from them.

I am an excellent researcher if it is on-line. However, I am a total novice when it comes to physical research. Planning a trip to Tennessee where there are additional records is difficult. I need to refine my search techniques to know where to start. At least, the cemeteries are a good place to start.

The Depew Cemetery is in Sneedville, Tennessee is where we will have our picnic and meet Martha. Sarah Ellen (McColloam) Depew is there. She is Martha’s sister. James Northcross McColloam and Mary Polly (Grey) McColloam are there too. They are Martha’s parents.

Febra Northcross, the Indian maiden who walked off the Trail of Tears is buried in the Rhea Hollow Family Cemetery. She married John Rhea Sr. It is said that this cemetery is hard to find but someone in the family has to know where it is and we will find it.

The thought of celebrating Annual Decoration Day appeals to me on many levels. I am researching these people. They are family. Spending time, even with only the headstones, puts me in the trails they once traveled, getting me one-step closer to who they were.   

Trip to Tennessee - Day 21 of the Family History Writing Challenge

Today I am not going to make my word count. In fact, I didn’t even open Ancestry.com to verify my facts. Instead, I played with Google Maps and information on flights. I looked a bed and breakfast my cousin found and spent all day emailing her with how we could make this trip.

Patty and I are planning a trip to the places I have only been writing about. We are planning to meet the people who are family that we don’t know. We are hoping to find the old house or at least the property where our grandfather grew up. We want to go and visit Martha Jane and Grandpa’s brothers who are buried there too.

We want to take in the surroundings and breathe the air that they did. Patty lives in the San Francisco area and I am in Southern California. We have trees and very large mountains but the Appalachians are foreign to us. We want to see the Clinch River where it climbed the banks on the crops.

We want to see the town where they would have gone for supplies and gatherings. We want to see our grandfather’s life in a way that we can’t on paper. It is a time for discovery. While we may not learn any more about Martha Jane, we can learn about her through her surroundings.

The Rhea’s have lived in the bit of country for a very long time. According to some records, they were the second family that settled in Sneedville.

Besides, we just found a quilting trail. That’s all I need to know!

World War I - Day 15 of the Family History Writing Challenge

Martha’s letters were written in 1918 and 1919. The war had been going for a while but the Selective Draft Act was not enacted until May 18, 1917. The Selective Draft Act was canceled in November 1918 at the end of the war.

Fortunately, for the family in Sneedville, there were no lives lost. Victor, Floyd, and William all registered for the third registration held on September 12, 1918. The first two drafts were for younger men up to the age of 31. The law was amended and the third draft allowed men up to the age of 45. While all of Martha’s boys registered, none were called to serve.

We have draft records for all three. The registrar in Sneedville was more diligent in his completion of the forms. In Montana, they were not quite as meticulous.

Victor registered at the age of 38 on September 12, 1918. He listed his address as Sneedville, Tennessee. It says he was married to Cornie and his occupation as a farmer. He was of medium height and weight with blue eyes and brown hair.

Floyd registered at the age of 45 on September 12, 1918. He listed his address as Sneedville, Tennessee. It says he was married to Elisa and his occupation as a farmer. He was also of medium build and height with blue eyes and brown hair.

William registered at the age of 36 on September 12, 1918. He listed his address as 104 So. 28th in Billings, Montana. I know he and my grandma lived at 124 No. 24th Street when I was a child so in 1918, they had not built the house yet. He was married to Mellie. He was of slim build and tall but no eye or hair colors were listed. His occupation was a mailman for the railroad. That’s another story too about how he was the one who hung the mailbags of the post for the trains to snag as they came by.

Martha writes on November 22, 1918:

“Surely you are rejoycing over the awful slaughter ending. Did you get questionnaire, Victor didn’t.”

(The World War I questionnaire project (Record Group 239) was part of an effort to gather and preserve the history of Tennessee's involvement in what was then known as the Great War. http://tennessee.gov/tsla/history/military/ww1quest.htm)

She writes again on November 25, 1918:

“Nellie, I am so glad Peace is made. Surely every person in the world is thankful. I suppose Roy Hatfield and Leona's boys are living, was the last I heard.”

As an aside, my grandmother’s name was Mellie. I don’t know if she purposely writes her name incorrectly or not. I am of the opinion that they would not have gotten along living in the same place so I have to wonder about the use of the name. I have the original letters so I know that it was not transcribed incorrectly.

On the letter dated January 1, 1919, she write again:

“I hope Peace will soon be made and made forever. Leonas and Dellas boys all right since the armstice was signed. dont know when they will be at home, Perhaps not soon. Roy Hatfield says he is homesick.”

The timeline for the wars states that on November 11, 1918, Germany signed the Armistice at Compiegne, France. The fighting is to end on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.

On June 28, 1919, the Treaty of Versailles ends World War I officially. (http://history1900s.about.com/od/1910s/a/World-War-1-Timeline.htm)

Flu -Day 14 of the Family History Writing Challenge

Serendipity strikes. I had the good fortune to speak with June Rhea a few weeks ago. She is the wife of Robert Rhea, the last remaining child of Washington Floyd Rhea. He is 90 and has dementia. June says he gets frustrated when he can’t do the things he used to do. June married him when she was 16 and has been part of the family for 71 years. While she doesn’t remember much about Martha Jane McColloam (and that’s how she spelled it), she does remember other things. She promised that she would write and the letter came today. Having never been in Tennessee or met any one there, the letter brings the family closer.

One thing that struck me in the letter was a line about the family property. She writes, “It must have been a beautiful home…She must have had a big river bottom farm and had more than most people”.

It is the little tiny clues like this that spur me on. I know that Martha was resourceful. I know she bought land later in life and held on to the property she had. These little speculations add credence to what I already know. June is going to send me a picture of the home.

1918 was not the best year for Tennessee. The boys were returning from World War I. While that was a good thing, the winter had been particularly bad. They called it the Winterstorm. The Clinch River flooded in November 1918 and Martha wrote about it a letter she sent to my grandfather.

“The River got up on the bank corn and damaged a lot. We didn’t lose much as we had stock to ate it. But Victor had to pull and throw up higher all day in the rain to keep the water off it.”

Tennessee had already suffered a big flood in January. There would not be another flood to rival it until 1957.

However, the talk worldwide was the 1918 Flu Pandemic. It started around January 1918 and went away in December of 1920. They believe that 500 million people were infected and more than 50 million people died. The counts are not accurate as many of the deaths were not reported, especially those in the more rural areas.

Tennessee was not spared. There were 7,721 recorded deaths. The hardest hit area was Nashville. The DuPout plant in Old Hickory was a one of the biggest employers and became a hotbed for the virus.

Sneedville escaped the worst of it. The County Seat was more isolated and not close to the larger cities. Martha writes, in a letter dated November 22, 1918,

“Extremely glad you are well. I hope you will Escape the Flue. It has been all around as Several have Died. I hope it is abating. There is lots of sickness here the past month.”

Three days later, she penned another letter to my grandfather.

“We haven’t taken the Flue yet though it is all round us. Several have died. But I think the worst has passed, everyone that could stayed at home…Nellie, Keep close as you can Keep the Flu off if possible. some people Here sprinkle a little sulphur in their shoes every morning to keep off disease. Write me soon for I shall be uneasy”.

The flu was still a topic of conversation on January 1, 1919, when Martha wrote again, "There is a few cases of Flu here yet has killed several people but none closer us than Sneedville".

It was a concern for all of those who lived through the Spanish Flu. Treatments were non-existent and it was the start of the research into vaccines. They told people to stay home and closed businesses, churches, schools, and amusement areas. Many of the deaths were not from the influenza itself but secondary illness like pneumonia and other respiratory ailments. The treatment really hasn’t changed and the same advice remains today. Stay in bed, drink plenty of liquids, and take aspirin.

I don’t know what sulphur in the shoes would do but no one died in the Rhea family and for that we are grateful.

Research for the murder - Day 9 of the Family History Writing Challenge

Posting a day late. Wrote out all the notes and got sidetracked by a quilt. After reading about Civil War quilts, I decided to make one for my son, 2 down, 22 more Log Cabin block to go.

The story goes that John Carter Rhea was exchanging his rifle for a piece of land owned by John Brewer. The piece of land, on the Clinch River, bordered his property. The story we were told as children leave images are of the family going to the property where, as he turned to walk away, was shot dead by John Brewer using his own gun on September 21, 1884.

Andrew was 18
Mary Leoni was 16
Laura was 14
Floyd was 11
Luvena was 9
Della was 7
Victor was 4
William was 2

Martha was pregnant with Lillie who was born November 4, 1884.

John Brewer fled to New Mexico to avoid prosecution.

The story Bill Rhea tells is slightly different. He doesn’t change anything about the murder except the setting and the state where John Brewer went.

His story puts the family at home. There is a small tree he called the black tree that is next to the house. That is where John Carter Rhea was standing when he shot. The kids were all at home so assuming they were all outside to watch the transfer of the deed, they were all witnesses. He also says that John Brewer fled to Texas.

Bill Rhea is the grandson on Washington Floyd. His father was Howard Rhea who shared the story with him and showed him the tree. They live in Sneedville and are close to the actual event. Floyd was gone before Bill was born. Bill has the actual arrest warrant for John Brewer and says that he fled to Texas. I have to believe his version.

My grandfather was William. My father was Ernest Rhea. William left Tennessee sometime in 1914. He would know the story but time and distance changes the perspective. He was also only two that day. Washington Floyd was 11.

It doesn’t change the truth. John Brewer killed John Carter Rhea.

I recently contacted my 2nd cousin, Floyd William (Bill) Rhea in Sneedville, Tennessee. It was difficult for me since he is a total stranger and I tend to shy away from contacting people I don’t know. Still, he has info that I don’t.

He was very helpful and friendly. He is the one who told me about the small tree and the warrant. He doesn’t know where it is. He put it away for safekeeping and we have all done that. He is a sitting judge in Hancock County and busy so I appreciated his time. However, now I want to know more so I’m sending him another email to see what else he can share.

While I wait for a response, this is where my theme should take off. Martha Jane McColloam Rhea dealt with the death of her husband while she was still pregnant with her 9th child.

This ties into her mother who spent 30 years without her husband while he was off in California. She had to have learned how to deal with situations from her mother as she tried to raise her three children alone.

Sneedville was a small town with all the families inter-related. All of them had family around so one has to guess that help was available. How far that went is dependent on family dynamics. In her later life, Martha Jane shares information about family and neighbors in her letters.

Records for Joseph Andrew stop in 1880 when he was 14. A family Bible only says that he died young although there is a note on another tree saying he was her grandfather and lived much longer. The truth here is hard to determine. I tend to go with the family Bible. That would have been 4 years before John Carter died.

Mary Leoni married at age 20 and moved to another county in Tennessee, four years after the death of her father. Martha Jane talks about her visiting in 1918.

Laura married at age 22, 8 years after her father died. She lived in Sneedville until about 1910 when she moved to Oklahoma at the age of 40. That was 19 years before her mother dies.

Washington Floyd was 31 when his first child was born. He lived in Sneedville his whole life. He passed away at age 56 on February 3, 1929, a little over a month before Martha Jane on March 22, 1929.

Luvena died in 1913 at the age of 37. She never married and apparently lived at home. 24 Apr 1913

Fidello Florence – Della lived her whole life in Sneedville. She is mentioned a lot in the letters.

Victor Edwin was still living in Sneedville in 1940 but moved after that to Rogersville in Hawkins County. He lived in Sneedville while his mother was alive.

William left Sneedville in 1914 when he was 32.

Lillie was living in Sneedville in the 1920 census and in Virginia in the 1930 census. Martha passed away in 1929. I don’t know when Lillie went to Virginia but may not have moved before her mother was gone.

I really thought I had thought this out only to find that another timeline is necessary. Along with the timeline are the events of the period that needed to be researched. Back to the drawing board.

Writing prompts - Day 8 of the Family History Writing Challenge

As I wrote yesterday, we are going to spend today at the orthopedic office with my child who sprained his elbow. This cuts into my writing time so I picked up the writing prompts from The Armchair Genealogist that Lynn posted to us for writing today.

Write about someone you regret not asking more questions of when they were still living.

My mom was the genealogist in our family. She was the keeper of the family records and managed to save my great grandmother’s letters. She visited the graveyards in Tennessee and Missouri to document my father’s family. She took lots of pictures. I was younger and raising a family and although interested in her research, wasn’t passionate like she was. In hindsight, I missed so many opportunities.

My mother, Ruby Ellen (Yeakley) Rhea (1918-1998) was an interesting person on her own. She didn’t marry my father until she was 29-yrs-old. She was independent and college educated. When I was a senior in high school, she got her Master’s Degree in Library Science. She was the Children’s Librarian in Denver, Colorado. When we moved to California, she continued with the libraries in Covina and Monrovia. My childhood was spent in libraries. As a reader, it was a magical place. I remember the trees at the Monrovia Public Library. They had low-slung braches that paralleled the ground. They were an easy climb and she usually found me with my back against the trunk, book in hand. When I got to high school, she moved to high school libraries and was the librarian at La Puente High School. She was there when Kennedy was assassinated. She later moved to Rowland High School. It was a new school where she had the privilege of setting up the new library. That was also magical for me. We went to downtown Los Angeles to Barnes and Noble to buy books. The warehouse was enormous and filled to the ceiling with the most amazing books.

Before marrying my father, she traveled. She made a trip to New York City on her own and I have those pictures too. She loved adventure so unlike the women of her time, traveled where she wanted alone. She passed her love of traveling to me. Like her, if there is a side road off any Interstate Highway, I am on it.

Once she married, she devoted her time to my brother and I. The difference between our friends and us was that both of our parents worked. We were latchkey kids and learned very early how to take care of ourselves. While that may sound a little harsh, we lived in a neighborhood, 30 miles from Los Angeles, California where we knew all the families. We were never alone because there were 30 some sets of parents who were always around if we needed help. We never did because we were all playing on the streets and in and out of all the houses. Our neighborhood was the only tract of house for miles around and it was a very safe place to be.

If there was a school holiday, we were all home together. When our school was out for the day, we went to work with my mother, hence all the library time. My dad eventually started his own accounting business and worked from home. I am so grateful that I had wonderful parents. They were loving and kind. They shared their faith and love of God, which has carried me through so many things. I had the perfect childhood and I know that it was a gift.

What did you miss? Everything!

So many unanswered questions now rattle around in my brain. They would have been easy to ask had I been interested enough.

What would you like to know or discuss if they were alive today?

The Yeakley side of the family is well documented. That’s my mom’s family. It’s my dad’s family where I have issues.

Even if my dad did not know the answers, my mother would have.

What was my grandmother’s name? We only know her as Mellie Farris. Was that her full name? We know where she was born but there are no records. They fall into a period in Missouri history where the records were lost.

Where did she meet my grandfather? She lived in Missouri and he in Tennessee. Did he go to Missouri at some time? We don’t know.

Did my dad ever meet his grandmother? She wrote to my grandparents but my mom only managed to save five letters, written before he was born. What do my parents know about Martha Jane McCollum?

We know that my great grandfather, John Carter Rhea, was murdered. We know one story but I recently contacted a second cousin who had a slightly different version. I’m sure both versions are correct but the details differ slightly. With both stories, I could put it together. I would like to ask about that.

My grandmother was very strict. She ruled the roost and tolerated no nonsense from her boys. What was my grandfather’s role in the family? William Ogden Rhea was a very quiet man and I don’t remember him ever raising his voice.

My great grandmother’s father, James Northcross McColloam, left home to go to California. I suspect he went for the gold. He was gone for 30 years and ended up owning land in California. When he returned home 30 years later, his wife had divorced him. Still, they are buried together so what did my parents know about that?

I want to know when Mellie left home. I know she hated her stepmother. I want to know why she didn’t tell her kids that her mother was living.

If my grandfather were still living, he and I would have a very long discussion about his life. That may be my biggest regret. Delving into the family history, I am very curious about my great grandmother and my grandfather and they are the two I know the least about. I had a chance and didn’t take it.

Mellie Farris - Day 6 of the Family History Writing Challenge

In the story of Martha Jane McCollum, there is the conflict between her and my grandmother, Mellie Farris. Martha wanted her son to come home. William and Mellie never went back to Tennessee, not even to visit. I think anything that had to do with the past were places that she didn’t want to go. She created the life she wanted and Tennessee was not part of it.

It was Christmas Day in 1964 when my grandmother announced her mother had died in 1952. Twelve years seems like a long time to wait before telling them but they had never seen their grandmother and she had not been a part of their lives. Still, it was odd. I remember the look on my father’s face. He looked shocked.

I was fifteen that year and old enough to understand there was something amiss. Granny had always said that her mother was dead so it wasn’t a surprise to me. I would have been three when she passed away and not really old enough to have remembered her. Still, it was the look on not only my dad’s face but my Uncle Ralph and Uncle Howard’s too.

Matilda Jane Pitchford, my grandma’s mother, was born on December 12, 1863 to Alpheus Alpha Pitchford and Mary Ellen Shikle in Burris Fork, Missouri. Alpheus had done well for himself and in addition to the farm; he was also the town miller. Matilda and her two siblings grew up with the things they wanted.

Matilda Jane Pitchford


On October 14, 1880, 16-yr-old Matilda married 20-yr-old, Oliver Valentine Farris. Oliver was also a farmer so she was no stranger to that lifestyle. However, he was not a wealthy as her father but he was a good-looking young man.

Oliver Valentine Rhea

They had three children. Mellie was born in 1883, Eugene in 1885, and Bertie in 1887. In 1889, when Mellie was 6-yrs-old, Matilda disappeared. It was difficult for Oliver to raise the three children but he didn’t lack company for long. In 1891, when he was 31, he married 17-yr-old Luella Campbell. On the marriage certificate, it says her father gave written approval.

Mellie was nine when Luella and Oliver had their first child. Charles was born in 1892. Then there were Lillian, Emil, Emma, Raymond, Freda, John, and the last one, Opal, born in 1908. According to Mellie, they went from an indifferent mother to the evil stepmother in Cinderella.

My grandmother was a tiny woman and barely topped 4’7”. She tells how they pulled a crate up to the sink when she was a child so she could wash all the dishes. She did their laundry and all the cleaning. Eugene was sent out to work the farm and at the neighboring farms if they needed help. Bertie was small enough to get out of most of the work. On the 1900 census, it list Mellie and Eugene as stepchildren. Someone came through and crossed off the “step.” Both Mellie and Eugene are listed as servants. The family has debated whether that means they lived at home and worked somewhere else or if they were considered servants in their own home. The consensus is they were servants in their own homes. Regardless, Granny says her childhood was miserable.

In 1910, Mellie was living in Greer, Oklahoma with her brother and his wife. Two years later, she had moved to Bagnell, Mo.

Mellie Farris

It was not long after that she met William Ogden Rhea somewhere in Missouri. None of us thought to ask how they met so it remains a mystery. They married on October 24, 1914 when she was 31 and he was 32. They stayed in Missouri until 1917 when they packed up baby Ralph, born in 1915, and headed north, landing in Billings, Montana.

William Ogden Rhea

They had a farm on the outskirts of town. Howard was born in 1919 and Ernest in 1921. The Rhea boys were trouble. They had a lot of freedom once their chores and schoolwork was done. However, with all the stunts they pulled, none of them dared cross their mother.

They eventually moved to downtown Billings where they built a two-story Victorian home. Not content to live without making money, the upstairs rooms were rented. William worked for the railroad eventually running the depot. Mellie continued to accumulate property and had several rentals, For a long time, she held onto the farm until they had enough income to let it go. I think she may have been a little like Scarlet O’Hara. She was never going to be a servant again.

Politics were her passion and she was very involved in the Democratic Party. She went to all the state conventions and worked on all the boards but her biggest passion was her kids. . Mellie’s goal was to have her three boys graduate from college and they did. All three were overachievers with successful careers.

My grandmother controlled those around her. She was a dynamo in a small package. No one knows why she decided to share that information on Christmas Day but it was a shock to her kids. From the day they were born, they were told their grandmother was dead.

It was probably the only time the veneer slipped. She talked about how she and her siblings were abandoned. She talked about her evil stepmother. She knew her mother had remarried and had four more children she would never acknowledge. To my knowledge, it was never mentioned again. No amount of prying would get answers. She went back to being our loving Granny but none us dared cross her either



937 words

Quilts - Day 5 of the Family History Writing Challenge

Today is a good day. Jeanne, the one who is identifying the graves in the Old Catholic Church in Golden, New Mexico, sent me a list of the family graves with names, dates, and photos. She is having trouble identifying the graves for the three named “Narcisco.” I will have my sister-in-law contact her. She should be able to tell them apart. It is so nice for a stranger to take an interest. The best is part is they don’t stay strangers for long and when we finally get to Golden, we have a date to meet.

Now I am back to Martha Jane. While researching corset covers, I ran across an article on quilts. I am a quilter so it is understandable that I got sidetracked. My son, brother, nephew, and former brother-in-law are all Civil War Reenactors in Missouri. That sent me on another search for Civil War quilts. Everyone in my family is getting a quilt for Christmas and I have started a few but wasn’t sure what to make for my son. When I found that the Log Cabin Pattern was pre-Civil War, I was delighted. Guess what he’s getting for Christmas?

I have quilts on the brain. A friend and I walked into our local Salvation Army Thrift Store a couple of weeks ago. I was looking for bed sheets to use as quilt backings. I found a lovely sheet that was more than I expected and was continuing down the line when I spotted what looked like a quilt. The closer I got, the more excited I became. It is an old, crazy quilt. It is completely hand stitched. Some of the pieces are frayed but that’s not a big deal. The crazy quilting is hand embroidered and each piece is tied in the back. I told my friend that I didn’t care what it cost; I was going to have it. When it came time to pay for it, the clerk said it was $8.00 but that all the bedding was 30% off. I paid $5.60 for the quilt. I couldn’t wait to get to the car. I felt like I had just stolen it because had it been in an antique store, it would have been out of my price range. Although it is too fragile to use as a blanket, I am not going to put it away. It was meant to be used so I will hang it to enjoy every day.

The back tied

The larger picture

Stitching detail

Fabrics used

So what does that have to do with Martha Jane? In her letter dated, Oct. 10, 1919, she writes,
“Cornie says she has her bean gathered in and now wants to do some sewing. Lillie says come out and help her quilt some evening and she will help next evening. She is quilting 2 and wants to quilt 3 more.”

Cornie is her daughter-in-law. Lillie is her daughter. She is still trying to get William (my grandfather) to move back to Tennessee. That theme runs through all five letters. At the time the letters were written, he had been gone for four years. Although they didn’t get to Montana until 1917, they spent two years in Missouri. I don’t know anything about the two year period other than my uncle was born there in 1915. My grandmother was from Missouri so it is possible they stayed with family, although, she didn’t like any of them. That’s a story in itself.

I can imagine Martha, Cornie, and Lillie sitting in the kitchen of the house Martha and John built before 1884. This picture is of my father and his cousins, Hugh and Howard taken in about 1970. They are three of Martha’s grandchildren.

The quilting was done by hand because the house did not have electricity in 1919. The letters are full of information about the family and neighbors so that is what would be the conversation while quilting.

“Mama, how’s your hand?” Lillie asked.

“The bruise and skinned place came near killing me. I swelled all over bad but I think I am nearly well of that”, Martha responded. “I have been gathering chestnuts the past week. I have 3 or 4 gallons, do you want some?”

“I’ll take some,” volunteered Cornie. “I have my beans all gathered in.”

“I have plenty of chickapins too,” Martha replied. “Do you hear the whistles?” The crusher and separator is running now. You can hear one of their whistles 40 miles. They finally got water at the mine. Roy and Sam are running trucks and they say they will make a road from the mines through Sterling Hollow to Lawson’s Mill.

“They have the road graded in 2 ½ miles of the county line,” Lillie said. “They say they will build another crusher there and one at Keeton.”

“I wonder if William will come here this fall,” Martha mused. “I want Ralph to hurry and help me with the chestnuts. Essie wants him to come and help her ate molasses. Floyd made 45 gallons molasses and Nelson is making some now. Floyd has a fine crop of tobacco and corn enough to do him. I think we will too.

“They called Della new boy Luke Michael,” Lillie said. “Another nephew for me to spoil and another grandson for you, Mama.” Did you hear that Frank Rhea has moved to the camps?”

“I heard that,” Cornie said. “You would think at his age, he would stay in the house. He just can’t seem to get away from the mines.”

“I’m glad William is not mining,” Martha said, “But I wish he would come home. I have looked for a letter for 2 weeks. Floyd says to tell him that they fear that letter he was going to write to them will be gray headed when it gets here.”

988 words

Research, resources, and ready to roll - Day 2 of the Family History Writing Challenge

“Mama,” she yelled as she slammed the door behind her, “He’s home!”

Polly McCollum looked up from the pot she was stirring. “Who’s home?” she asked.

“John is home. Abijah and John are home,” she said. “Lucy just saw them and couldn’t wait to tell me. I expect their mother is happy.”

“I suppose she is,” replied Polly. “Will you please call your sisters, dinner is ready.”

Martha Jane hurried to find her sisters. Maybe now, he would ask her mother for her hand. He’d been gone almost three years and she’d heard that the Confederate Army was ready to surrender. It didn’t matter to her. John Carter Rhea was home and she was 17- yrs-old, in love, and all grown up. After all, John’s sister Sarah got to get married at 14, the same age that she had been when John went to war.

Polly filled the plates and set them on the table. The girls sat down and offered a prayer.

“I got a letter from your father today,” Polly started but 15-yr-old Caroline interrupted. “Is he coming home?” she asked. Martha and 13-yr-old sister Sarah waited expectantly for the answer.

“No, he said that they were finding gold all over the place and he thought he might have a lead on a vein”, she replied.

“Mama,, if I get married, will he come home?” Martha wanted to know. Caroline and Sarah looked up sharply. “Married,” they squealed. Martha looked a little smug. “John came home today”

The photo is James Northcross McCollum

James Northcross McCollum, born in 1820, grew up in Sneedville, Tennessee not far from the Gray farm. He and Polly Gray spent their early days together. Like his daughter would later do, he married his childhood sweetheart in 1847 when he was 26-yrs-old and she was 22-yrs-old. Polly knew that James had grander plans than living his life in a backwater town. When he came to her in 1853, seven years after they married, and told her he thought that he could make much more money for the family if he went off to California to find gold, she knew she couldn’t stop him. Martha Jane was just five when he left, Caroline was three and Sarah was a year old.

Polly was a little surprised that Caroline and Sarah still wanted their father to come home. Neither of them remembered him. Only Martha had memories of being Daddy’s little girl.

James had not found gold but did find a life that suited him. The weather in Northern California was similar to Sneedville and he lived in the Redwoods that lined the coast. By the time Martha decided she was going to marry John, he had been gone for twelve years. None of them knew that James Northcross McCollum would not return until 1886. By that time, Polly had divorced him and had been working all those years as a domestic servant for a wealthy family. 33 years is a long time to be gone from home but he did well. Even though he wasn’t fond of farming in Tennessee, he owned land that he farmed in Klamath, California.

If I were to write this as a short story, fleshing out the middle, this is how I would end it.

Martha quietly closed the door behind her. It the darkened room, Polly was asleep on the daybed in the front room. It had been a rough year for Polly who was not the robust person she’d once been. She was 61-yrs-old now and time had taken its toll.

The year was 1886 and Polly lived with her youngest daughter Sarah and husband, Henry Depew. She was no longer working and spent most of her time resting. She’d used up much of her strength and energy comforting Martha when John Carter was murdered in 1884. Martha was 8-months pregnant with Lillie on the day that John Brewer shot John Carter.

Martha tiptoed into the kitchen to find Sarah sitting at the kitchen table, pen in hand. Pausing in her writing, she looked up and answered the question she saw in Martha’s eyes. “Yes, I’m writing to Caroline. I imagine she’ll be shocked. I wonder if she and Robert will make the trip all the way from Oklahoma.”

Martha looked skeptical. “That’s a long way to go with all those kids and Robert may not be able to leave his job for that long. The lumber business is volatile as it is.”

“Still,” Carolyn said, “I’m going to let her know. This is the biggest news in years. Do you want to tell Mom?”

“I guess someone has to tell her,” Martha replied. “There’s no time like the present” and with that, Martha headed back to the front room.

She walked over to the daybed and touched her mother on her shoulder. “Mama,” she whispered. Polly opened her eyes and smiled at her.

“Mama, he’s home,” she said softly.

Polly looked confused. “Who’s home?” she asked.

“Daddy’s home.”

It seems to me that the story of James and Polly should have its own place. I like the thought of the ending and the beginning being the same because that’s how it would have gone down. Since this is only Day 2 of the challenge and I have already somehow changed the focus, I am going to leave this as is. Who knows where this will lead but I find myself more than vested in the lives of these people, my family.

BTW, 1886 was the 1st Rose Parade, something that my family attended all the years I was growing up. The first continental railroad transported the first oranges across the country. My husband and I were docents at the California Citrus State Historical Park in Riverside, California and we know all about this major event that made Riverside the richest city in the country at that time. The history that I know about California is colliding with the family history that I am learning.

991 words - 9 short

Ready, Set, Go - Day 1 of the Family History Writing Challenge

That is the title of the post for the 1st day of the Family History Writing Challenge hosted by The Armchair Genealogist. The challenge runs 28 days, all through February 2013. Each writer pledges to write a certain amount of word daily towards a family history. Since I am wordy, I set my goal at 1000 a day but know I will eventually have to edit out a lot of words. Still, the exercise is to write a comprehensive account of a family member, event, or timeline. I will be doing the writing as blog posts as I think I have greater accountability towards the challenge on something I publish.

My subject – Martha Jane McColloam (McCollom, McCollum), my great grandmother.

Steps for preparing for this challenge:
Note cards – Actual index cards in a file. It took a lot of time to list everything I had about Martha, her life, her family, and events that happened during her lifetime.
Timeline - I created a butcher paper timeline stretching across the closet doors. It begins in 1820 with the birth of her father to 1929, the date of her death.
Phone calls – I contacted two of my 2nd cousins living in Tennessee. While they don’t have much about Martha herself, they do have information on their grandparents who were Martha’s children. Sheldon sent me lots of pictures of his parents and grandparents. They were a real treat. Bill has a copy of the original warrant for the arrest of the man who murdered my great grandfather, Martha’s husband.
Ancestry.com – is current with the information I have so far.
Lots of research – Internet sources on the times.
The Armchair Genealogist – I read every post and all the comments.

I have five letters Martha Jane wrote to my grandparents in 1918 and 1919. They are what drew me to Martha Jane. A strong woman who raised eight children alone and yet, the letters show she was very human and at times wistful.

The best part about this whole process is the more information I write down, the bigger the holes I find in the research. I would not have ever considered calling the two cousins in Tennessee if I hadn’t need info. While I know they are family, they are strangers I have never met. What a treat to find them not only open to my request but also willing to be active partners in my research. The lesson here – is not to be afraid to contact people. The worst they can say is no.

The boring part – The Begats

Parents
John Elijah Rhea Jr 1804 – 1859
Lucy Anderson 1808 – 1995

Child
John Carter Rhea
2 Mar 1842 - 21 Sep 1884
Sneedville, Tennessee

Parents
James N. McColloam 1820 – 1898
Mary Polly Gray 1825 – 1888

Child
Martha Jane McCollum
1 Jan 1848 – 22 Mar 1929
Sneedville, Tennessee

John and Martha married on 4 Mar 1865

Children
Joseph Andrew Rhea - 20 Jun 1866 – no death date
Mary Leoni Rhea – 18 Mar 1868 – 26 Feb 1940
Laura Tisabel Rhea – 15 Feb 1870 – after 1965
Washington Floyd Rhea – 2 Jan 1873 – 3 Feb 1929
Luvena Finetta Rhea – 19 Dec 1875 – 24 Apr 1913
Fidello (Fidelia) Florence Rhea – 11 Aug 1877 – 31 May 1961
Victor Edwin Rhea – 13 Jul 1880 – Apr 1973
William Ogden Rhea – 15 Sep 1882 – 1 Jul 1962 (my grandfather)
Lillie Bower Rhea – 5 Nov 1884 – 1952

The opening:

“Jan 1, 1919

She sat at the desk in her upstairs bedroom watching. It was raining and the Clinch River was higher than normal. She kept her eye on it praying it wouldn’t flood again. The river ruined last year’s corn crop. They’d been safe; river people always built their houses high. Looking at the paper, she continued to write.

“Wm, I am 71-yrs-old this morning and I want to talk to my absent children.”
She stopped writing, lost in thought. Only Victor and his family lived in the old home now. For a one-year-old who was just walking, Little Jewell could make an awful racket but she was grateful for the noise. She could hear the echoes of the absent children as if they were still home, eight of them slamming doors and hollering at each other. She picked up her pen again.

“What I can and truly hope that when the end of their road is as near in sight as mine, they can rejoice as I can, that rest is near.”

She put the pen down again and slowly pushed herself out of the chair. “I’ll finish later,” she told herself and little by little made her way down the stairs.”

The story

Martha Jane McColloam was born on January 1, 1848 in Sneedville, Tennessee. There is no birth certificate; the information comes from family records. She does confirm the date in her letter dated January 1, 1919.

She was one of three girls born to Mary Polly Gray and James Northcross McCollum. James and Polly had a farm that bordered the Clinch River. Their closest neighbors were the Rhea’s. She knew John Carter Rhea all her life so it was no surprise she married him at the age of 17 in 1865. John was 23-years-old and had just returned home as a veteran of the Civil War.

Ending day one here

There is more research needed on weddings of the time. Reviewing the records will show family members who would have attended the wedding. There was family around. Given there were no stores or large towns nearby, what would the couple wear? What kind of gifts would they receive? Where would they live considering the house wasn’t built yet? They did have land to farm. Where did they get it? This information may not be important or used in a final draft but it will form a framework for later stories.

Word count 970, 30 short of the goal.