Thanksgiving 2008

For the past two years we have celebrated a "blended" Thanksgiving, and it's been wonderful both years. The Paul Goffs and the Buddy Webbs gathered, and The Phil Christy's gathered; In-laws and out-laws around one table. Miranda and David came in from Nashville to join us. It was special.

This marked the first year that Uncle Buddy wasn't with us. I suppose he's gathered with the great cloud of witnesses, happy that we are still together. I can't say it wasn't difficult, though, to look over at the blue leather recliner in the corner and not see him sitting there. As hard as that was for me, I'm sure it was even harder for Aunt Dorothy and Rhonda. We missed him, but we know where he is, and for that assurance, we gave thanks.

Helen Elizabeth Houston Goff

Helen Elizabeth Houston Goff was born on February 6, 1920. She was married to my father's oldest brother, John Milton Goff. This post is solely for the purpose of remembering one of the finest ladies I have ever known.

Aunt Helen was perfect for riding shotgun to my Uncle Johnny. Neither of them ever met a stranger, nor did they ever meet a person they couldn't like. I cannot recall a time when I walked into a room occupied by Aunt Helen when she didn't greet me with, "I love you, Paula Kay. Where have you been?" I never left her presence that she didn't say, "I love you, Paula Kay. Come and see me."

Uncle Johnny died in April of 1972 when I was 13 years old. I have fond memories of him playing the guitar and singing. My parents always told me that Uncle Johnny and Aunt Helen traveled all over Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky singing in churches. I remember Aunt Helen's lilting alto, and I have to say that besides my father, Uncle Johnny and Aunt Helen were the first to encourage my love for music. Uncle Johnny used to lift me up onto the piano bench and say, "Now, sing, Paula Kay, just sing." That was when I was four years old.

I stayed with Uncle Johnny and Aunt Helen when my mom's father was in the hospital dying of a cerebral hemorrhage. I remember sitting at the piano and pounding the keys like I'd seen Liberace do; then I'd turn around and say, "Clap everybody." The strange thing is that everybody would, and if I drove them crazy, nobody let on.

Uncle Johnny and Aunt Helen had four children; Tommy, Ronnie, Darlene and Donna Sue. I loved going to their house when I was little because Donna Sue was so utterly beautiful. She let me get away with nearly anything. Tommy was the photographer, always taking pictures of family events. I always loved Tommy too. (He's the one person I know who actually read the Encyclopedia Brittanica! Who does that?) We didn't have enough of those family events.

Aunt Thelma had a gathering at her house in Ohio in the fall of 1971. That particular gathering marked the last time the entire Goff clan would be together in one place. It was the last time Uncle Johnny and Gramma Goff would be with us. Uncle Johnny played a 12 string guitar, THE instrument of the early 70s. We were gathered around the dining room table, and Aunt Thelma had an old Broadman Hymnal, and Dad had brought along an old singing convention songbook with the shaped notes. Of course the only ones who could read the shaped notes were Grampa and Aunt Helen! Anyway, we had our own little singing convention, and Dad kept getting on me about staying on my part. Aunt Helen stopped everything and said, "Paulie, leave her alone. She'll figure it out." I don't know that I ever did, but I'll never forget how loved I felt at that particular moment. I remember leaving Aunt Thelma's house that night, and Uncle Johnny told Dad that he probably wouldn't be around at the next reunion, but he surely enjoyed this one. Dad never got over that, because Uncle Johnny died a few months later. Aunt Helen continued to come to all the Goff gatherings. It wouldn't have been the same without her. She called on every holiday just to tell us that she loved us.

Aunt Helen continued to be active in New Banklick Baptist Church. She and Darlene loved going to gospel music concerts, and she loved the Gaither Homecomings. When I gave a concert at my own church in the mid-90s, Aunt Helen brought her whole family! I looked out and half the sanctuary was filled with my family all because of Aunt Helen. Then she made sure that I was invited to her church to do a concert, and yep, once again, her family filled the pews. She was like that for everybody though. I wasn't special. Everybody in her life was special to her.

Aunt Helen went home to be with the Lord on September 17, 2008. Heaven welcomed the gentlest soul and kindest heart that ever lived. Although we'll miss her, she is no doubt singing alto in that Heavenly choir. The years that stole her legs, hearing and eyesight are long behind her now. She's already reunited with Uncle Johnny, her children, Ronnie and Darlene, my dad, Gramma and Grampa Goff, Uncle Able and Aunt Thelma. I know without a doubt that we'll see Aunt Helen Goff again. Until then, we'll go on singing.

Rebecca

Rebecca Ann Gover was born November 1, 1835 in Pulaski County, Kentucky. She was the first of eight children born to Samuel D. Gover and Elizabeth Jasper, a family that settled along Pittman Creek at the turn of the 18th century. Brothers, John and Samuel, moved their family from Pittsylvania County, Virginia. Samuel D. Gover's grandfather, John came to America from England in 1750. According to Immigrant John Gover and Wife Elizabeth Duvall and Descendants, written by Rose and Bess Gover, published in 1982, the Govers are of Scotch-Irish descent. The family were devout Methodists, and according to the Gover sisters, freedom of religion was the primary reason for the Govers move to the new world.

Land records indicate that John Gover and his wife, Polly Dyer, bought land from Francis McWilliams in Elihu, Pulaski County, Kentucky in 1819. "Old timers do remember that John and family lived in a two-room dry cave for a time after moving to Pulaski County, presumably while a home was being built." (Gover, 1982) John and two sons, James and William drowned in Pittman Creek on July 1, 1821. Surviving sons were John Jr., Samuel and Wesley.

Samuel married Elizabeth Jasper on December 30, 1834. Elizabeth gave birth to Rebecca Ann, Mary Catherine, John Thomas, James William, Samuel Wesley, George Alford, Elizabeth Polly and Milton Parker. Samuel Gover was a farmer who accumulated a modicum of wealth, as property records show that the Govers owned approximately six slaves. The records do not indicate what the slaves were used for, but it can be surmised that they were used in the tobacco fields as well as in the house.

Rebecca married William Monty Goff on November 20, 1853. Legend has it that the Govers were not pleased about this union. It is known that William Goff's family was not as well to do as the Govers, but that is probably not the reason for the grief. Rebecca would have been 18, and it may have been her youth that gave her family pause.

Rebecca gave birth to three children, Richard in 1855, a daughter in 1856 who was stillborn, and Samuel in 1857. Rebecca never recovered from giving birth to Samuel. Her death record indicates the cause of death was "a cold," however, it was very likely complications from childbirth. Rebecca died August 20, 1857, just three months shy of 22 years old. Her infant son died five days later. Presumably, Rebecca is buried in the Gover Cemetery in Elihu, Kentucky, however, there is no record to prove this.

Rebecca Ann Gover was my great-great grandmother. There are no surviving pictures of her. We don't know if her Scotch-Irish descent manifested itself in fair skin and strawberry blond hair. We don't know if she was musical or otherwise artistic. All we know about Rebecca is that she lived and died.

James Lonnie Webb

James Lonnie Webb was born March, 1931, in Glenmary, Scott County, Tennessee. He was the only son of John Henry Webb and Virgie Belle Grimes, the middle child. The Webbs moved to Ludlow, Kentucky shortly after Buddy was born. Although he was named after his parents' brothers, his sister called him Buddy, and that's what stuck.

Buddy lettered in varsity football, but he wasn't a particularly great student in school. He graduated from Ludlow High School in 1950, and shortly thereafter, he married his high school sweetheart, Dorothy Reeves. He joined the U.S. Marine Corp right after high school and served his country in the Korean conflict.

Buddy and Dorothy had three children; Steve, Jeff and Rhonda. After Buddy got out of the Marines, the family settled in their hometown of Ludlow, Kentucky. Buddy took a job on the N&W Railroad where he worked until he retired some thirty years later, true to his railroading heritage.

Buddy was a member of the First Baptist Church of Ludlow. He was a very well read man and loved a great debate. Sometimes he would take a position just to get everybody riled up, and then he'd walk away laughing. He was always something of a prankster.

Following a tornado that damaged his sister's house in 1972, Buddy was the first person on the scene. He was the first person the following morning to start with the clean-up. He remained close to both his sisters, Reba and Shelba.

Buddy was my uncle and in many ways, my second father. He died from complications that followed a stroke on April 6, 2008. He is interred in the Hebron Lutheran Church Cemetery, Hebron, Kentucky.

Sam Dodson

Sam Dodson was my great-great grandfather. He was born in White County, Tennessee, June 2, 1831. He was married twice, the second time to Emily Bolin. Together they produced my grandmother, Belle.

Sam is the son of Jesse Dodson of White County. The Dodson clan goes back to the Jamestown Settlement, or so legend has it. Actually, it does go back deep into the foundation of Virginia, but much has not been documented.

Another such legend is that Sam was 3/4 Cherokee. From 1895 until 1903, Sam ran a boarding house in what was Oklahoma (Indian) Territory. My grandmother, Belle, spoke often about her days living next to "the reservation," and it was there that she met her first husband, Lonnie Grimes. However, at this point, our Cherokee heritage has not been documented. It isn't hard to imagine it, though, when one looks at his deep set dark eyes and enormously high cheekbones.

To date, we have not found any documentation as to where Sam was during the Civil War, although, he would have been of age to have served. Sam had a son, Frank, from a previous marriage, and Belle and Frank were close until his death in the 1970s. Emily Bolin Dodson raised her children in the Baptist tradition. It is not known whether Sam Dodson had any tradition of religion. Sam Dodson died on June 22, 1908 and is buried in the Bon Air Cemetery, White County, Tennessee.

Aunt Lucy!

This is a picture of Aunt Lucy and Aunt Annie. Lucy is on the left and Annie is on the right. It's amazing how these faces keep repeating themselves. I have two cousins, one who is spitting image of Lucy and the other, Annie. My mom looks exactly like Annie.

They are great-aunts on my mother's side, sisters to my grandfather, John Henry Webb. I think every family in the south has an Aunt Lucy! Lucy was born March 17, 1906 in Glenmary, Tennessee. She died on May 10, 1978 in Holiday, Florida.

Aunt Lucy was a character! She could do anything. She sewed beautiful clothing. She could knit and crochet and was an avid quilter. I have some beautiful quilts that she made. I don't know anything about quilts, except that they are beautiful.

Lucy married Fred Bieber in 1937. Fred was a widower and 13 years her senior. Lucy had never been married. Fred was the perfect uncle! He was a talented painter, and in his later years, he made jewelery. He used to make necklaces and earrings our of sea shells. I have so many of them in my jewelery box, but none of the earrings are for pierced ears.

Lucy moved to Northern Kentucky in the 1930s with her mom and dad. It was there that she met Fred. They lived in Erlanger, Kentucky, where Lucy raised chickens. Legend has it that she supplied several restaurants with fresh chickens. She loved dogs and hated cats, a trait that I did not inherit. (I love cats.) The Biebers moved to Florida in 1955.

We visited Lucy's house every summer. My mother and I took the train from Union Station in Cincinnati to Columbia, South Carolina. My aunt Shelba would meet us at the station and we'd spend a week at her house in Charleston. Then my dad would come down and we drove down to Tampa and onto Lucy's house in Plant City. Lucy would have supper waiting, and she always had watermelon! That was the main thing.

I didn't see as much of Aunt Lucy in her later years after I got up into high school. She died when I was in college, and I didn't get to go to her funeral. She left me a ring that I wear on my right hand and will someday pass down to one of her great-great nieces. Lucy is interred beside Fred in Hillsborough Gardens in Brandon, Florida.

Wealth Is In the Spirit

It has occurred to me on several occassions that Belle Dodson Grimes McCloud Cole may never have realized how impoverished her family truly was. If ever there was a spirit filled with love, grace and joy, it was Belle.

You can see the little ramshackeled shack where she lived. Notice the windows had no glass! This was in Cumberland County, Tennessee; Winters do not pass over Crossville.

However, there was a wood stove in the middle of her living room and in the winter time, it provided just enough warmth. The stove in the kitchen was archaic, and used wood in its belly to heat the top. The wood stove in the living room was used for baking pies or cakes. Cornbread was usually fried in a cast iron skillet on top of the stove. If you got baked cornbread, you were very special company.

The bed linens were heavy cotton; the quilts were all handmade by Belle or her mother, Emily. The blankets were made from the wool of a neighbor's sheep. The shaving stand in the bedroom was where a person bathed for every day. On Saturday nights, the boys would carry enough water from the well so everyone could take a bath in a tub that was hidden away for the rest of the week.

The well water was ladened with iron and turned everything yellow. It tasted of sulfur and smelled like rotten eggs. It tainted nearly everything that came in contact with it, everything except her food. For some reason, her pinto beans were always mountain perfect, no doubt from all the salt and pure lard. The iced tea was loaded with sugar to camoflage the sulfur. Bottled cokes were usually on hand.

She did have electricity, because she had a Zenith console television in the corner of her living room. One had to look around the stove to see it, but it didn't matter because it was never turned on. There was a huge picture of her youngest daughter, Rilda Dean, hanging over it. Rilda was beautiful, and Belle was immensely proud of her.

The inside of Belle's house was always spotless clean. She swept her house daily and dusted habitually. Dishes were always washed and put away immediately following a meal. Clothes were always clean. The smell of clothes drying on the clothesline in the noonday sun could make one forget the outhouse which was at least 50 yards away from the house, but in the summer time, when the wind blew just right, sittin' on the front porch, one could get a wiff of it. It stunk to high Heaven! It was made of pine with three ports, two tall and one small.

Belle loved children, and there were always plenty around. From three marriages, Belle had five children, twelve grandchildren and twenty great-grandchildren. She loved being around the children, and she would coddle and feed them. She'd laugh out loud, and when there was music, she would dance a jig. Literally, it was a jig, something never seen on Dancing With the Stars.

When Belle was 90, she moved into Crossville's City Limits, into a house that her son, Hubert, owned, not far from the hospital. It was the first time in her life that she had hot and cold running water, which meant an indoor bathroom. She left the farm and her little ramshackeled shack with her cornfields, chicken coop and outhouse; and she traded it for the modern conveniences of an electric stove and windows with glass.

If Belle knew how poor she was, it never showed. If she knew there was no money, her grandchildren who stayed with her in the summer time never knew it. We ate more than our share. We went to church on Sundays. We played in the cornfields and ran through the house with abandon. We used the outhouse and complained, but we still used it.

Grandma Virgie was Belle's first born, and she rarely spoke of her early life in Tennesee. She never wanted to go back and cried her eyes out when I moved to Nashville. Her memories of abject poverty stuck in her mind like peanut butter on a horse's tongue. When those memories surfaced, it took genuine fortitude for her to swallow them. She knew poverty. Virgie understood how hard she had worked to escape it, and Virgie always feared having to back.

Yet, she did go back every summer, often with me in tow. When I visited Great-Grandma Belle, I always slept with Grandma Virgie. When we were going off to sleep, Grandma would ask, "Did you have fun today?" For me, going to Belle's was an adventure. I loved riding the pony, chasing the chickens and running back and forth to the outhouse. I loved pumping water from the well and carrying it into the house. I loved sleeping in a bedroom where the windows were completely opened.

I didn't know Grandma Belle was so poor. It wasn't until she died that I really understood that. She didn't represent povery for me. She represented an adventure. Now, in my memories, she represents a very wealthy spirit. When she met the Lord, she knew that she had lived a very full life, measured by the love she had in her heart. She had children who had children, and all the children loved her. What's so poor about that?