When I was 9 or 10 years old, I was allowed to accompany and help a professional forester buying logs for the U. S. Government during WWII. We went from one logging camp to another across the mountains in Oconee and maybe Pickens counties. My job was to strike the end of each log with the back of a hatchet that imprinted “U S” into the wood. Then I would write the sequential number on each one, using a big blue grease pencil. The forester, a man named Frank Palmer, recorded the number of logs marked at each site. It was a long, tiring day for this tag-along boy. The scents, sights and sounds in those loading areas are fresh in my mind to this day. I saw teams of oxen dragging huge logs out of deep hollows. I was standing on the back end of one log when a whip cracked and the team gave a jerk, sending me sprawling in the mud.
—Gene Smith
I wish I could go back and see the sights and hear the sounds that Gene experienced. I often felt the longing to go back and see and hear the things Pap told me about from the time when he was a boy.
Today I sometimes surprise the girls when I tell them about something that happened when I was a girl or about a social or cultural thing that was common then. I see that same sense of longing in their eyes.
When I study on our lives today it’s hard to believe there’ll come a time when the events of our every day lives will inspire someone to wish they could come back to 2023 and see and hear for themselves. But I suppose if time goes on that will surely happen.
Last night’s video: We Finally Replace Our Herb Bed!
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Timber, Coal, and Oil were often found in many areas of Appalachia; many families were dependent on them to make a living or get by. Snakin’ logs outta the holler with a good team of matched mules or draft horses was common sight in my part of Eastern Kentucky and a way of life for those who owned a nice team. Back in the day, a pair of matched mules were not cheap and a valuable asset to the owner of such. Lot’s of memories of the 40’s and early 50’s before mechanization came in. It was hard work and the monies weren’t that great • but, it fed and clothed many, many families.
I love watching your videos and listen to you I’ll talk about Appalachia my father was from Hancock county Tennessee and I love always listen to his stories I’m hoping one day I can afford to get your cookbook I really want it really bad but as soon as I can I’m going to try my best to get it I hope you all have a blessed day you are a blessing to us
Awesome, I love hearing stories like that. This generation don’t have a clue or can’t even imagine. And lot of don’t believe it!. Thanks for sharing that. And your gardening is awesome!!
Storytelling is a dying art. As a kid growing up before TV and air conditioning, I experienced the front porch on Summer evenings. Family friends and neighbors often joined my Pa there where one story led to another and another and another as different ones were reminded of them by one being told. Most of those people were born in 1890s to around 1910. Their youth was without radio and automobiles. Their amusements were very often found in those storytelling evenings that could stretch from after supper to past midnight. Alas, I never learned the art.
Pa was living in Ducktown, TN, around 1909-10 working as a printer. He roomed in a boarding house with his oldest brother who was born in ’84. They were offered the sale of standing original growth hardwood forests for 50-cents an acre. The acreage was well covered in trees but was too steep to log profitably with the available technology. They had the money – maybe a hundred dollars – but passed on the deal thinking they were being had. Oh how I wish they had bought that land and just held it for the hundred years or so since.
Someone remarked on the ability of a 9 or 10 year to do real work. It is only since WWII that youngsters have been protected from it in such operations. Child labor laws took children out of cotton mills and other factories earlier, but kids that age were expected to pull their weight in family enterprises, farming being the most common. I can recall being sent to my aunt and uncle’s tobacco farm in late Summer at 8 years old to help with getting in a bright leaf crop. Older brothers helped crop or hand, but I was too small; so I was given the job of sledding with the mule to take leaf from the field to the curing barn. The mule was, of course, smarter than me and knew the job much better. I only had to know how to make him stand after coming back from the barn and to start when the sled was full. He knew every step and even knew where to stop at the barn. I think I got a dollar for doing this for a week. By the time I was 10, I was carrying the morning newspaper with my brother-in-law, at first only on weekends but weekdays too after the first summer. Neither of those activities hurt me none ’cause here I sit at 81 tellin’ you about it.
Blessings to all . . .
Robert my father in law told us he began to plow one of their most gentle mules when he was 8 years old. He said his hands would be closed in fist each morning and his mother would massage his hands to get them to open.
An interesting timber salvaging operation occurred after Hurricane Hugo struck the S. C. coast in 1989: the old and the new, mule teams and helicopters, were both used to harvest the broken, mostly flattened pine forests of the Sumter National Forest. Who would have thought it?As I recall, the mules were brought in from Missouri.
What are hollows?
I also would love to go back in time and see the things my parents told me about. I miss the stories so much, but I miss them more. I have a granddaughter who has always been interested in how things where when I was a young girl and I love telling her my stories and so it continues… Tipper, I love your herb garden. It was so nice to see everyone pitching in to help. That makes it even more special. Ya’ll are making sweet memories even in the most trying of times.
Wow, I am so impressed that a youngster of 9 or 10 would be so motivated and reliable to take on such a job. I know my parents and their parents were strong in work ethics even when they were young but looking at today’s youth I’m still in awe of what our older generation accomplished even at young ages. Tipper, when I was a young kid I loved to hear of my parents growing up times with their parents and siblings. My cousins still contact me and tell me they were just thinking about some story my Mother would tell them. You could have heard a pin drop when she was telling a story, I mean it was like you were right there smack dab in the middle of the whole story hanging on every word she said and actually seeing it in your mind. I thought when I was young that I would like to go back to that time until I was married, and even though I had no problems when I became pregnant with our first child, it ended up being a rush to surgery with a c-section. My Grandmothers seemed to have no problems birthing babies at home; one had 11 and the other 6. Oh how I loved them all and miss them so much, it would be interesting to go back and see them as teens but my Mother told such vivid stories about her brothers and sisters and husband’s family, that it seems I actually saw them and all their reactions to situations in stories she would tell. My Mother’s daddy came from a timber cutting family that had been in the Carolina’s, but had settled in Waterloo, Al. He was in the business part, buying tracts of timber and bringing his men in to cut the trees, haul them out with horses or mules, and had his saw mill where the logs were cut and sold to lumber companies. Some of my uncles cut trees and worked at the saw mill too when they were teens.
I really enjoyed seeing you all work together to get those herbs planted before the rain rolled in. By the way, our youngest son introduced us to those Outshine popsicles a couple years ago and we sure enjoy them in the summer too.
Oh, Tipper, I had ordered the cookbook and I was thrilled to find it in the mail yesterday!! Thanks for signing it too:) My sons are going to be checking it over too:) I took a few minutes to look it over yesterday, before my sons returned from their Trout fly fishing trip up to Little Juniata River, NE about 2 hrs from where we live in SC PA. Fishing was great and each son has inherited that story telling ability from my Mother. I am still smiling thinking of the fun they had and the two elderly fishermen they helped out. May God bless and keep you all safe.
Dee, this is the one of the differences between then and today. Back then kids were taught to work from the time they were about 3 years old. They were not be made to do work they too young or physically unable to do. Working in a 1-2 acre garden, feeding and helping take care of the animals or bring in firewood were some things we did. The girls would help with things in the house. In the summer from the time I was 12 years old I help the farmers gather up the square bales of hay to make me 50 cents or a dollar. When you had nothing you were glad to get whatever they would pay. A friend of mine tells of hoeing out the weeds in the middles between roes in the garden when she was 4 years old. As for motivation, a good keen hickory switch would give you more than enough motivation. Kids were TOLD, not asked to do things in the past. I worked on blue collar manufacturing jobs all of my life, many young kids were given some of the safer jobs to while going to school. Many of them were good kids, but had no idea of how to work, others were to lazy to hit a lick at a snake.
My Daddy was born in 1930 and my Mama was born in 1926. They were both originally from Overton County, Tennessee. They’ve both talked about their childhood many times. I wish I could experience the 1930s. I miss my parents all the time.
My Dad worked in timber all his life and worked long and hard, no matter the weather. He used horses and eventually heavy equipment. There were a few summers my family stayed in logging camps, which made for a great summer and many happy memories. For extra money our family would cut and sell firewood and Christmas trees. What I find most amazing is that he would work hard all week and then on the weekends he would want to go back and camp. He loved the mountains and knew all the best fishing spots. I cherish those times.
Tipper, interesting thought about those that will think back on 2023. God Bless All.
My mom’s old place in Henderson county has had every last tree taken down. So sad to see that bare hill missing the woods that sheltered deer, foxes, and so much more.
My dad would use our horse to pull logs down out of the mountain. Our horse (Nell) was a great one. She was tough. My cousin had a horse Bill , he had him doing what my dad did. They made extra money that way. There was one time my cousin couldn’t get Bill to pull that log out so my dad got O Nell and she did. I don’t know how she did it but she did. It weighed 1,000 pounds People would come up in the holler and get stuck so O Nell would have to pull them out because there were no tractor. we couldn’t afford one. I’ll never forget her.
I tried to spend every minute I could with my Granddaddy Kirby until he died when I was 17 years old. In the earlier years of my youth, he owned a small mule “Kate” that had been used around a sawmill. She was too small to pull many of the logs and had been beat because of this. Granddaddy won her trust back and either him or Kate would have died for one another. The maddest I ever saw my daddy was when he tried to drag a cedar post from the woods to our house for me to use for my basketball goal. Kate went crazy with fear when he tried to hook her to this log. At first he was mad at Kate but he immediately felt sorry for her and told me “ if I could get my hands the man that beat her that way , I would beat him just like he beat her.”. I am sure most of the sawmill men did not beat their animals.
My uncle was a logger in the deep hollows of eastern KY. I don’t recall him ever owning the machinery that logging requires. His work made very little noise as he used mules and a crosscut saw to get the timber to level ground.
The sound of my daddy playing the banjo and singing is one I’ll never forget. He wanted to teach me to play, but no I had better things to do. How I wish I had listened. We cannot go back but the memories of sights and sounds will endure.
I’m glad you got the herb garden planted before the rains came. Planting in those raised beds and having lots of help sure make it easy on the back.
Sending prayers and blessings today for all the family. Have a wonderful day
good morning friends of Appalachia, have a great day with Jesus, God bless you friends, God bless Tipper and her family God bless Ms Cindy with healing and health in Jesus name we pray Amen, say a word for my son Josh, he going to godsmack concert tonight, lots of evil there , drugs and alcohol, God keep my son safe and well, guard him and protect him I ask in Jesus name,
Amen! And, Norman…I will keep your son Josh, in prayer, also. Meanwhile, continue to pray without ceasing.
What brand of popsicles do you buy?
A Keith-the brand is Outshine 🙂
Two or three yrs back, used to get them too. And yes, I love the coconut. Only flavor I like. However, the cost kept going up so I quit buying them-cold turkey!
They were/are available at the grocery at even a higher price tag.
Our HEB supermarket doesn’t carry the Outshine brand. I’ve asked them to change that. I made a reluctant special trip to wallyworld last evening just to get some Outshine Popsicles. Their choices were very limited. I got pineapple, grape, and strawberry. No coconut to be had.
Never heard of that brand and I wouldn’t want coconut. I will only eat a few things made with coconut.
A Keith..if you’re diabetic they have sugar free.
Seems every family has a ‘story teller’ that can entertain for hours (usually around a campfire) with the stories they remember. It is a cherished talent that some have in abundance. They tell the story in such a way as we can almost see it happen and everyone stops what they are doing to listen. I hope the new generation has these people still or it may be a long forgotten talent. replaced by fast finger pokers that can spell without looking. I remember when we could type without looking on a much more cumbersome machine – called a typewriter.
I have never saw logs being drug out by oxen or mules except on tv. In the past many times during the winter months the same tractors used for farming during the growing season was used to drag the logs or even used to run the sawmill off the tractors pto. My neighbor that made his living by logging used a small 25 hp JD bulldozer to drag the logs. This was in late 40’s-60’s. He was killed by being run over by this tractor. Back then the sawmill would sometimes be took to the woods instead of like today the logs being taken by truck to the sawmill. I have cut a good bit of pulpwood when it was still being cut by chainsaws ( most often a bow chainsaw) in 5ft lengths and often manually loaded across the bare frame of a truck right behind the cab. I have talked with Gene through emails and know he lived at Walhalla, SC when he was a young boy, this is in the mountains of Oconee County, SC and I would think the logs would have to be pulled by either ox or mule on those steep hillsides. My sons and grandsons tease me when we go together somewhere, I will always be telling them about what use to be there or done there in the past when I was their age. Now my son will start telling me about things he remembers that are no longer there or done and I will tease him about getting old. I worked with a man one time that said he had used a stripped down Ford Model T with chains on the back tires to drag out logs for the sawmill.
I remember my Uncle Bill who worked as a Forrest ranger in Talladega National Forrest, Ala would take us in his old International pickup through the woods to one of the fire towers. What a climb! We would look through his binoculars over the immense acres of trees. On the way he would educate us on the different kinds of trees. Thanks, Richard
I grew up on stories of my Grandmother’s childhood. We lived in the Blue Ridge and the power went off frequently. Being that we only had 2 television stations, one out of Roanoke and one Greensboro if the wind blew right, my Grandmother’s stories were so entertaining. Our folks settled the farm I grew up on in the early 1700s and I so longed to go back and live in their time. At least I did get to walk where all of my forefathers tread.
Good morning Tipper. Not often I get here this early, considering our 3 hour time differences.
Yes, I find it hard to believe these will be the good ole days too.
Watching yet another raised bed come together and be planted is a challenge we have here in upstate Florida. Even though there are people in my area planting it is a challenge. I have watched so many YouTube videos on what and how to plant and I still learn something new all the time. Our biggest challenge seems to be obtaining a large amount of composted soil and just plain soil. It seems to be at a premium. Whatever it takes, we will trudge on. We are in the learning and planning stage as neither of us has ever planted and raised a very large garden but we are learning and I am taking notes. Give Granny and Miss Cindy our best. God Bless you guys as you travel these tough times.
so true tipper. i have had these thoughts many times too!