Saturday, November 29, 2008
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Knowing that, I wonder if this little machine ever predicted the end of the Cold War, or the Beijing Olympics? I wonder what the future was that it predicted? I wonder... but I'm really afraid to ask.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Monday, August 11, 2008
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
In September 1862, Colonel Basil Duke led 350 of Morgan's Raiders against the city of Augusta with Colonel Joshua Bradford leading 150 of the home guard and three gunboats in the harbor. The gunboats, however, abandoned their posts, leaving Augusta vulnerable to the raiders. A hand to hand battle ensued in the middle of town where 35 men lost their lives. A monument to the 11 unknown Confederate Soldiers was erected in town.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Sarah Hamby Webb was my great-grandmother, although I never knew her. She was born in 1865 and died in 1938.
Sarah was born to Elizabeth Cromwell Hamby and William Hamby at the end of the Civil War. She married John "Spoony" Webb about 1883, and she gave birth to Will, Jim, Martha, Laura, Lucy, Bertha, Annie and John Henry. John Henry Webb was my grandfather, my mother's father.
Sarah is described by the people who knew her as "a gentle soul" filled with grace and kindness. Not much is known about her childhood, except that she was raised on Hamby Mountain, and was probably no better or worse off than any of the neighbors around them. Bill Hamby was a farmer and Eliza was a homemaker. Sarah moved into the Webb family home when she and "Spoony" were married, and it was there that all her children were born.
Sarah & Spoony moved to Ludlow, Kentucky in 1930 to be closer to their children who had already migrated in search of work. Sarah moved on to be with the Lord in the spring of 1938, and she boarded a train one final time. The Southern Railroad that brought Sarah to Northern Kentucky took her home. Sarah lies in repose in the Webb Cemetery in Glenmary, Tennessee.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Glenmary, Tennessee is a small patch in the road. Located in the Cumberland Mountains, drive too fast, blink and you will miss it. I've only been there once in my life, but let me tell you, it is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.
Visiting the cemeteries where my ancestors are interred has to be one of the more emotional moments in my quest for family history. Standing there in Carpenter's Cemetery, looking at the graves of my gg-grandmother and ggg-grandparents, distant cousins, I had this sense that they knew I was there. No, I'm not talking about hearing voices or disassociating from my self. I'm talking about this serene feeling that I was standing in the presence of that great cloud of witnesses, and they were pleased that I paid them a visit.
This photograph is of my family in front of the old Webb home place in Glenmary. I haven't been able to date the picture yet, although I'm working on it. My mother and my aunts believe this is the only remaining picture of Margaret Webb (nee Stewart.) For that to be true, the picture must date back to the turn of the 20th Century, because she died in 1912. That would have been two years after my grandfather was born, and my mother believes that her aunts and uncles knew their grandmother, for she raised their father. My own grandfather would have been too young, of course, but his siblings were were much older than he.
My hope and prayer is that by putting this picture out there on the Internet, my extended Webb family, whom I've never known, may recognized someone in the photograph and get in touch with me. I want to know more, and I can't know enough or too much about these people who watch me run my own race.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Andrew Montgomery Goff was born, July 23, 1892, and Nellie Hughes Goff was born, July 10, 1892. Andy was the son of Richard and Mary Ellen Goff (nee Stephens,) of Somerset, Kentucky. Nellie was the daughter of Bud and Mattie Hughes, also of Somerset.
Andy used to talk about the first time he saw Nellie in almost fairy-tale prose. She was running across the meadow with her long red hair blowing in the wind, and she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. They eloped to Huntsville, Tennessee and were married by Justice of the Peace, James McDonald, on April 29, 1913.
Andy found work on the river barges, moving coal up and down the Cumberland River, while Nellie set up housekeeping. Their first child, Herbert, came along on February 28, 1914, but died on March 21, 1914. John Milton Goff came along on June 20, 1915, followed by Thelma, born February 12, 1920.
By 1920, Andy was working for the Southern Railroad, and he moved his family to Ludlow, Kentucky to become a foreman. They moved into the section house, a home owned by the railroad. Nellie would give birth to three more children, Richard on November 17, 1924, Paul Martin on June 12, 1927 and Abel on April 2, 1930.
The child rearing and discipline fell to Nellie, as Andy's job took him away from home five days out of the week. The depression hit the Goff family hard, as they were beyond poor but still had it better than some, since Andy always had work. Five children tried the patience of the fiery redhead who was known for her Irish temper. Nellie sometimes took drastic measures to keep her children in line. One legend that surfaces at every family reunion is about the time she tied Johnny to a tree to teach him not to run away from home!
Andy and Nellie were strict Southern Baptists. That defined who they were and how they lived their lives. Andy believed in the cooperation of churches to advance missions. He believed in that old fashioned, soul saving grace. Members of the First Baptist Church of Ludlow, Kentucky, Nellie attended as often as she could when her health permitted. Andy sported a perfect attendance pin 35 years of faithful service. They reared their children in the church, and when they were grown, they too reared their families in the church.
Andy retired in 1955, and with all his children married and on their own, he and Nellie bought a little home in Covington, Kentucky. The house on 18th Street is where they were living when I would come to know them. I can remember walking up the steps and into the front door. On the left was their master bedroom. Walking past that, the living room was a big open room with two huge windows that Nellie had covered with venetian blinds and white lace curtains. There was a couch on the front wall, and two chairs on both side walls. The main attraction, though, was the huge black iron wood stove with the smell of Andy's cornbread emanating from within.
The kitchen was simple with linoleum floors, white walls. It was very utilitarian with a stove and refrigerator and a table with six chairs. Nellie's signature dish was chicken and dumplings, and that is what she served whenever the family gathered there for dinner. Dinner was often followed by Andy playing his fiddle or banjo.
Nellie died on December 4, 1972, five months shy of being married sixty years. After Nellie died, Andy moved in with his youngest son, Abel. Abel's wife, Cora, took care of Andy when Andy could no longer care for himself. In the four years following Nellie's death, Andy got weaker and weaker until congestive heart failure finally took him home in May, 1976.
Andy and Nellie are together now in Gloryland. They watched the big Goff Reunion of 2004 from the Great Cloud of Witnesses, and must have been overjoyed by those of us who came together. Strangers met at Appalachian Park in Renfro Valley and came away family. Relationships were made that will endure forever, despite distance and absence. The Goff legacy is well established.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
This is the Rio Grande, the photo taken standing on the dam outside of Del Rio, Texas. The right side of the river is Mexico; the left is Texas.
Standing on the dam, it is easy to imagine standing on a bridge that crosses Jordan. Loved ones are on both sides, those we leave behind, and those standing in that great cloud of witnesses. The bridge across Jordan is a bridge built by love, not that we loved Him, but that He loved us.