A few years ago when my Aunt May came to visit we drove up to Yellville and the surrounding areas so that she could see where her father my grandfather Thomas Lumpkin was born. One of the places that we visited was Rush where Grandpa's father John had a mine. When we returned home I wrote this and maybe some of you can relate to the feeling I had about this little place. Sharon Rush In taking the isolated road to Rush we traveled through woods so lush, weathered boards and rusted nails, make up the last building still in this vale. Water gurgles and trickles over stones that lay in the now quiet creek that roams through the middle of this desolate town made up now of ghosts of men who seeked and found ore rich in the minerals they mined to support the families in the homes that lined the steep winding road that sits in the hush of the once busy little town known as Rush.