Today’s guest post was written by David Anderson.
The winter of 1900 had been an unusually bad one. A true story book picture of what a Christmas scene must be like. It seemed as though the bad weather kept roaring into the Shooting Creek Mountains day after day without ceasing. First the freezing rain came, piling up on the earth and timber causing the mountains to sound like a battle was taking place as the trees gave way to the awful weight of tons of accumulating ice. The snow had piled up at the Abraham Anderson cabin there in the Bethabera section of the county with little chance for folks to get any work done other than to break a trail to the barn to feed the animals and to find a decent pole of standing dry timber to fuel the fireplace.
Abraham hadn’t been able to get to the mill that was situated further down the valley to try to buy or trade for a turn of cornmeal so his new wife Mae could make their everyday cake of cornbread for their table. Fact was that if he had been able to get to the old tub mill he wouldn’t have been able to get any meal since the miller wasn’t there to do the grinding. The miller like everyone else in the settlement was shut down solid. Mae, the young bride, had worries that went a little deeper than those of Abraham. Although she was just a recent bride she felt an obligation to provide a good meal for their table as this was the tradition that was understood by most women of the time, young and old alike.
The old peddler, Mr. Bramlett, who came over their way from across the mountain in Georgia and who made his usual rounds every few months with his wagon and team, had not showed up because of the bad weather as well. The folks who depended on him to deliver their short grocery list of coffee, salt and other such items that they couldn’t produce on their small mountain farm were pretty much in the same shape as Abraham and Mae.
Finally the weather began to break sharing a bit of sunshine from time to time to perhaps shorten the life of the thick covering of snow. As night time slowly began to settle upon the valley Mae called to her husband and with a tone of sadness and some measure of defeat in her voice she told him to come and sit down at the table for a meager bite. With her call she explained that this was the last bite of anything in the house for them to eat. There was nothing else left in the house that she could cobble together to be made into another meal.
As they sat down at the table and started to eat their supper they both began to hear faint sounds coming up the cove. Could it be the gentle sounds of trace chains and the crunch of snow falling under the feet of a struggling team? As the sounds came closer, sure enough that was what they both were hearing. It had to be the peddler, Mr. Bramlett! As the sounds came closer, and finally stopped in the yard Abraham stepped out the door to greet this night traveler. A better Christmas gift could not be found on the earth than just to know that sitting outside their door was a wagon that held provisions enough to get them through the darkest and leanest winter that Abraham and his young wife Mae would ever have to endure.
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This is a true story often relayed to me by my father many, many times. Abraham was my father’s uncle. My grandfather was married in 1899 there in Shooting Creek and Abraham was next down from him in age, so his marriage to Aunt Mae was very near this time. Aunt Mae and Abraham later moved over to Union County GA where they raised a large family. Uncle Abraham lived until 1957-58 and was taken back to be buried in the Bethabera Church Cemetery. Aunt Mae died in the middle sixties and was buried beside her husband a stones throw from their cabin there in the valley of their birth. My great-grandfather was Col. Bramlett, so not knowing the real name of the peddler I have substituted the Bramlett name. Artistic license??? You understand. –David Anderson
I hope you enjoyed David’s post as much as I do.
Last night’s video: My Appalachia a Memoir 8.
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Thankful God had a servant that was dedicated in doing his job of delivering what he was peddling. It’s hard to find that kind of dedication now days in any type of work. Sweet story of provision in hard times.
Yes hopefully David will share more stories….
What a beautiful story! We are so blessed and should be thankful everyday.
I wonder if David Knows about Abe Anderson mountain in Union County? It can be seen from Dollar General on Murphy Hwy at Gumlog Rd looking SE. Abe cut all the trees off the little mountain and farmed it…a lot of erosion happened..it was easy to spot from Pop Mauney’s house on Reece’s Creek(Mauney Rd). Sometimes we could see Abe’s cow grazing on the mountain when I was a kid. Last time I looked at it it was covered on trees. May be covered in houses now…Will check out Monday.
Excellent post, Mr Anderson needs to share more with us in the future.
The Winter of ’48 brought a huge amount of snow to Raleigh. After a day or so we ran out of milk, bread, eggs and bacon. I was sent to the Piggly Wiggly to buy some only to find the store closed. As I recall, it was several days before they re-opened. That didn’t mean that we were without any food in the house, but it shows that even more recent times had their issues. Of course there are not many still around who recall that ’48 snowstorm.
Bless that peddler for getting through as it had to be hard work. Good man.
Inspiring story. I always think about the faith, determination and energy living in those situations took and I also think about the animals. The peddler’s team must have been worn out.
Your vintage Christmas cards are lovely.
Boy, that sure was tense! What a narrow escape and such grim conditions. Such times have come before, yet most of us are so far removed in experience and/or thought from them (or think we are) they seem a fantasy. We would have to re-discover helping each other.
What a wonderful story. The more you read/hear of what our ancestors went through to survive, it’s a wonder we’re all here today.
I doubt we, today, will ever fully understand or can accurately appreciate the struggles of our past generations. No phones, cell or otherwise, internet, Google, Alexa, etc.. They were tough & very resourceful.
That beautiful Christmas story brought tears to my eyes this morning. It’s hard to believe a similar winter storm caught many of us off guard 109 years later. It truly did sound like a battle was taking place in the woods around my house during the ice storm of 2009. Unlike Abraham, most of my neighbors had food in the house but had no way to cook it. When our electricity came back on after being out for ten days, the excitement could be compared to the day the peddler arrived.
This story made me think about how God always provides our needs! Thank you for sharing. Take care and God bless ❣️
Realistic and a pleasure to read, especially since it mentions the iced over grist and the old tub meal.” I could see and feel it all.
Wonderful story that should make us all stop and count our blessings!!!!
I just love stories like this I can’t get enough of them. David has a gift for story telling. Keep it up.
What a precious story! I love the old story tellins of days gone by.
I enjoyed this story by David Anderson. This is why so many of our people learned to store extra food and prepare for the long hard winters ahead. I never thought much about it growing up, but I remember flour and cornmeal was always bought in larger sacks. The way they made biscuits usually always required a flour sifter, because they had to sift out any chunks of flour and make it lighter. It is interesting to see how much everything has changed overtime. My grandson advised his mother’s sausage gravy and biscuits were sweeter than mine. I was puzzled for a moment, as I never known of any instance where sugar was added to sausage gravy. Then I remembered canned biscuits sweet taste, and the mystery was solved.
What a beautiful story. For most of us nowadays, bad weather like in his story is little more than an inconvenience. Those times were much harder than many realize.
Wonderful story! I always enjoy David Anderson’s posts!
Donna. : )
I just loved this TRUE story! I’d have liked to have met and talked to Mr. Abraham and Mrs. Mae! They were tough and I believe what layeth ahead are many hard times and only tough survivors will make it through. Thats my beiefs and to each his own. These tender foot, sensitive types are about to get a shaking, huh? Good luck and let’s see what folks are made of and my guess is not a good one. Merry Christmas all! We here get stuff we need and there’s nothing given we won’t use- hats, blankets, a calendar…. No room for fluff in this economy.
Those who have not been “right up against it” cannot fathom the feelings of near starvation. That’s a wonderful story. Thank you
I’ve heard many a similar story pass down like this. We live in such a time of plenty and waste that it’s hard to imagine this nowadays. I’m thankful for the quiet strength of my parents and grandparents to endure hardships. I never heard them complain.
I so love your stories of Appalachia. I watch your Youtube stories every night for a couple of hours. I especially like the ones where you show your gardens & all of you working in them. The girls make me laugh & you & Matt have such a sweet, loving relationship. Everyone works in tandem & you all seem so happy. Have a blessed Christmas week.
This story reminds me how Good God is. He’s RIGHT ON TIME !!!
Merry Christmas and a Healthy New Year ♡
That was when bad times were really bad. I can’t imagine having no more food in the house when there is a raging snowstorm outside. I have had a few lean times, but nothing compared to this!
I think I have read this story somewhere before, but it is good to read it again. It makes me wonder what the winter of 1900 was like for Greenville county, SC. Both of my maternal grandparents would have been 12 years old. They were born about 3 months apart in 1888. Once in my childhood before I was old enough to be of much help after my daddy had been out of work for several months because of sickness, I remember my mother crying and praying one morning at about this time of year telling us she did not know what we would have to eat that night, there was no food left to cook. That same day a neighbor brought us a pickup truck load of firewood. That afternoon two neighbors came by after their shift at work driving a 53 Ford car with the trunk and back seat full of groceries. They worked with daddy and his coworkers had given him a pounding that day at the plant he worked at. My aunt gave my sister and me one gift for Christmas. I ask her for a box of shotgun shells. Until then I had never had a full box of shells. Daddy would buy the shells 5 at a time for about 5 cents each at an old country store. Having my daddy back home and getting well was the best gift of all that Christmas.
Goodness…We do have so many things to be grateful for. God Blesses us daily, from the time we wake til the time we end our day. Thanks for this, it make you be thankful. God Bless
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