Cora Hall Goff

Cora Sue Hall was born May 10, 1934, in Hindman, Knott County, Kentucky. She was my aunt by marriage, being the wife of my father's younger brother, Abel. They married on March 22, 1955 in the parsonage of Ludlow Baptist Church, Ludlow, Kentucky. Together they had five children, Shirley, David, Steve, Kathy and Tim and brought up their family in Covington, Kentucky.

Aunt Cora was a real country cook, making the best pot roast anyone ever ate. She loved crocheting, knitting and loved her country music. She was always laughing, and she loved her children and grandchildren more than anyone could ever know. It didn't matter what anyone ever did, if you were her family she loved you - end of story.

Aunt Cora died on March 30, 2011. She was interred next to Uncle Abel in Independence Cemetery, Independence, Kentucky, on April 2, 2011.

The Loss of a Giant

Richard Goff was the third child born to Andrew and Nellie (Hughes) Goff on November 17, 1924. The Goff family had migrated to Cincinnati from Somerset, Kentucky, and Richard was the first baby born in the city.

He started school in Cincinnati but transferred to Ludlow Independent Schools when Andy moved his family into what was known as the Section House, a place owned by the Southern Railroad. After graduating from high school, Richard enlisted in the U.S. Navy.

Richard Goff was a purple heart recipient for his service upon the U.S.S. Morrison. The Morrison, was sunk by a kamikaze at the Battle for Okinawa on May 4, 1945, killing 152 men. Richard was blown away from the destroyer, and grabbing a nearby life jacket, he watched as the ship plunged beneath the surface of the Pacific. Richard spent nearly a year recovering from his injuries, and he never mentioned the horrors of war.

Richard married June Hammond Perkins on June 10, 1950. The couple reared four children, Sherry, Sheila, Bruce and Richard, Jr. He worked as a tool and die maker at R.A. Jones in Erlanger, Kentucky for more than thirty years. The family resided in Covington, Kentucky until his retirement in the 1980s, at which time they moved to Palm Coast, Florida. He lived in the Sunshine State until his death from lung cancer on February 17, 2009.

Richard loved to camp, and he also loved boating. He was a member of Ludlow Baptist Church and was a third degree master Mason.

Richard was my father's older brother, my uncle. He was always larger than life to me and one of the funniest men I ever knew. He would run up to me as fast as he could with his fists clinched, saying, "I'm gonna punch you right in the nose." Of course I would run and scream, and he would pick me up and throw me over his shoulder and kiss and tickle me. With the exception of throwing me over his shoulder, he still did the "punch in the nose" routine until the last time I saw him, which was July, 2006, just before my father lost his battle to lung cancer. For the Goff family, Richard was the last of that generation to move on, and losing him was the loss of a GIANT.

Hello Again!

Has it really been a year and a half since I've been here? When I started this blog I remember how excited I was to tell all about my family, our lives and the lives of our ancestors. I am still excited about my family, and I've actually been spending time with family, as well as writing on a novel that I intend to finish one of these days.

Time marches on, however, and since I was last here, the Goff family lost two more from the greatest generation. I will post their stories in the coming days, and I will also recommit myself to telling the family stories here. Come back and see!

Sam Dodson

This is a picture of my gg-grandfather, Sam Dodson. Sam was born in White County, TN, exact year unknown. He was married to my gg-grandmother, Emily Bolin. Sam's lineage is said to go back to the Jamestown Settlement, but I have not seen the documentation that proves it. Sam was also 3/4 Cherokee, and likewise, I have not been able to document that either.

The latter legend, however, I do believe to be true if not totally accurate. My g-grandmother, Belle, talked often of growing up in "Indian Territory," where Sam and Emily ran a boarding house. (It was there in Oklahoma that Belle met the love of her life, Lonnie Grimes.) Belle also talked about how her father spoke fluent Cherokee.

Oddly, Belle wanted no part of her Cherokee roots. I now wonder if Sam's ancestors were among the assimilated Cherokee who married among Europeans and did everything they could do avoid the round up that lead to the Trail of Tears. There is absolutely no way to prove that without further research.

There are way too many legends that come with the name, Sam Dodson. I'm just beginning research into this interesting man, so there will be more to follow.

Emily Bolin Dodson

Emily Bolin was my great-great grandmother. She was Belle Dodson Grimes McCloud Cole's mother who was the mother of my grandma Virgie Grimes Webb.

I know she married my great-great grandfather, Sam Dodson, in the late 1880s. (I found the exact date in a marriage index, but I haven't seen a marriage certificate.) Not much is known about Emily.

When Belle became widowed in 1914, she moved from Whitwell, Tennessee to Sparta, Tennessee to live with Emily. Belle had two children, ages four and two, and one on the way. The one that was on his way is the lad in this picture, my great-uncle, Lonnie Edward Grimes. Uncle Lonnie looks to be about three or four in this photograph, so that puts the year about 1918.

This picture was given to me by my great-aunt Lena in 2004, the last time I saw her. She gave me this picture and a couple of pictures of great-great grandfather Sam Dodson. I love knowing where my mother got her high cheek bones. We always assumed it was from Sam Dodson, but now I see they were a gift from Emily. My mother also has Emily's eyes, set deep and close.

It amazes me that all the summers I spent in Crossville, Tennessee at great-grandma Belle's house with my grandma Virgie, nobody ever mentioned Emily. It never even occurred to me that this woman existed until I became interested in genealogy, yet I most surely carry her Mt DNA as it passed from her to Belle to Virgie to Reba (my mother) to me. Emily's life matters now. It is her existence that ties my life to a greater purpose. Although, she was of simple means and certainly not one for the society pages, Emily was here, and I hope I can honor her.

Angels in the Midst

I am just so happy! I'm happy as a pig in slop! I have a ten year old laptop computer that has about four years worth of research on it that has been dead for over a year. Talk about losing inspiration!

Finally, one of my husband's friends (and yes he has a few) said, "Paula, if you want, I can take the hard drive out of that laptop and see if I can retrieve your data."

Uh, what was that? Did the sky just open? I really thought I heard the sound of wings, because this little offer has changed my life - or at least the life of my research. In fact, this single little act brought my research back to life. I am no longer shackled with the notion that I will have to retrace my steps through history in order to retrieve the 24,000 plus names in my database. I have birth dates, death dates and burial information. I have pedigrees and registries. Where once I was lost, I have found my citations and they are complete.

Burdens have been lifted from my shoulders by my husband's friend. It just goes to show, there really are angels among us.

Random Thoughts About My Father

This is a picture of my dad, Paul Martin Goff, born June 12, 1927. Dad was the fifth of six children, born to Andrew M. Goff and Nellie Hughes. The back of this picture says 1950, and I think it may be in front of the cabin in the Smokies where Mum and Dad stayed on their honeymoon. It appears he was reading a map, something of a foreign concept to the man I knew.

My dad was always neat. He wore only certain kinds of clothes, and the only time he wore blue jeans was when he was working. He has more hair in this picture than he ever had after I came along. There are more pictures of his wavy auburn hair, but I remember that he kept it very short.

Dad was one of a kind. I'm sure everybody says that about their parents, and I'm certain that in all cases it is true. Dad was a strict Southern Baptist. My parents insisted that I was in church every time the doors were opened, and as a teenager, I balked consistently and was consistently overpowered!

Dad loved his bluegrass music. He would drag me around to bluegrass festivals, and I didn't really learn to appreciate the music until I was up into college and recognized what an art it truly is. Since my grandfather played several different instruments, dad always encouraged my music. He bought me a guitar when I was about seven and a 5-string banjo when I was 9. He bought me a flute when I was old enough to join the school band. He paid for voice lessons. Ha, I think if I had just listened to Dad more often, I could have learned how to sing just from hearing him do it. He was an awesome singer, even if the only song he ever sang all the way through was, Froggie Went A-Courtin'!

Dad worked for the railroad for 37 years! The longest I've ever been on a job is five. He loved trains, and after he retired, he would buy and watch all these videos of different trains around the country. I used to tease him that the trains weren't really moving, they just moved the background. He'd get so ticked, and I'd laugh and laugh.

I was an only child, and I was definitely Daddy's little girl in every sense of the concept. Dad brought home my first cat when I was two! It was a black and white cat that he brought in under his railroad jacket. It had a litter of kittens, and he took all of them off, including the mother, except for two little grey ones. Then he accidentally ran over one of those with his car!

He also raised collies. We had one collie that he named Boy, and Boy was my buddy. One time I made my mom really angry, and I couldn't have been more than five or six years old. Well, I knew my mom was going to spank me, so I let Boy loose, and he cornered my mom between the propane gas tanks and the back wall of our house! I was standing back saying, "Good Boy! Yeah!" My mom was yelling at the dog and me, and when Dad got home from work, he was pretty livid. I remember that particular spanking, and I never tried that trick again. (It is pretty funny though, isn't it?) We had lots of different dogs, including a beagle named, Peanuts, and a toy poodle named Trampy.

I miss my dad more than I could ever express. When he passed away on August 13, 2005, time stood still for a long while for me. Paul Martin Goff had fought a twenty year battle against cancer. He had lost his voice to carcinoma in 1986. He fought diabetes, skin and prostate cancer. In 2002, we thought we were losing him to congestive heart failure, when a wonderful doctor finally suggested sending him to the University of Kentucky for an experimental defibrillator. By God's grace, that defibrillator bought him five more years of life. In fact, Dad used to tell people, "I've got the kind of defibrillator Dick Cheney's got, only mine is better, on account it came from the University of Kentucky!"

He fought small cell and non-small cell lung cancer valiantly and with great strength and dignity, not that there is much dignity in dying. When he breathed his last breath, Mum and I were both at his side. I remember telling him in those final hours, "Dad, when you meet your gg-grandfather, (whom we call Richard 1810,) will you tell him to send me some clues?" He was really sick and in a lot of pain, but he laughed and promised to do it. I'm still waiting for the clues, so maybe he hasn't met him yet. Maybe he's still at the feet of Jesus praising Him for the fact that Paul Martin Goff has his voice back.