What a beautiful image..... thanks for sharing! All of your stories bring to life another time and place and are well appreciated! Please keep sharing! a very Merry Christmas to all, Kerri (researching Chaffin/Chafin, Romans, Spaulding, Marcum, Deskins, Kirk, Roberts, Vawter...) On Dec 8, 2007, at 11:41 AM, STANLEY BROWNING wrote: Sometimes our most precious memories are about the simple things. To me, Christmas is about experiences, not stuff. Christmas 1934 was the first Christmas that I can remember. I knew Christmas was special because Mother considered it special. My mother seemed to be an unhappy person by nature. She had very little to be happy about other than her children. As Christmastime approached she became even more melancholy. In retrospect, I can imagine what must have been going through her mind as she tried to think of ways to make us especially happy on Christmas. Pine trees were not common to the area where we lived, but one day as we were walking near our home at the mouth of Turkey Creek, Mother spotted a live holly tree growing on the riverbank nearby. It was about five feet tall, perfectly shaped and loaded with bright red berries. We dug it up, put it in an old water bucket and took it home with us. Mother did not possess any tree ornaments or ribbons, which was just as well because further decoration of the tree would have been redundant. There were no festivities or gift exchanges that Christmas, but everyone loved and admired our tree. We children were happy and Mother was happy. Even without presents under its branches, that little holly tree remains in my memory as the prettiest Christmas tree I have ever seen. It stood in the front room of our house long after Christmas was forgotten. Enjoy the season, but remember the reason, STAN ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to WVLOGAN- [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

K, I have William Mead m. 2nd Manerva Tiller bef. 1865. D/o William Mead and Manerva Tiller was Susan Meade. Susan Meade's death certificate. Her mother is listed as Manerva Evans. http://www.wvculture.org/vrr/va_view.aspx?Id=1256612&Type=Death Joel -----Original Message----- From: [email protected] [mailto:[email protected]] On Behalf Of dkb Sent: Tuesday, December 11, 2007 12:15 AM To: [email protected] Subject: Re: [WVLOGAN] John Henry Mead John Henry Meade was the son of William Meade and Minerva "Polly" Clark. Are you sure that you have the right John Henry Meade in that census year. William and Polly had children together until at least 1867. K ----- Original Message ----- From: <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Sunday, December 09, 2007 12:41 PM Subject: [WVLOGAN] John Henry Mead > Hello Logan County, > > I have a question for you. Does anyone know who the parents of John Henry > Meade that married Pricilla Sturgell was? John was born in Logan County > in > about 1852 and is listed in the 1860 census with his mother, Mary and no > husband. > Was Mary a widow or did she have John out of wedlock? > > Please help if you can. > > Anita </HTML> > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the > quotes in the subject and the body of the message > ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

My last message didn't seem to go. Hotmail has changed their e-mail & I am still trying to learn how to send e-mail. This e-mail address was sent to me by my cousin & it has pictures of W.V.'s Archives different rooms and such. Some might enjoy reading some of the blogs. If some don't know our Archives may be moved from their present location to another area of the Culture Center. There is talk of adding a Cafe & Gift Shop. The Cafe would be disastrous to our wonderful History Collections. Especially the varmints that a Cafe would attract. I usually don't get on bandwagons, but I hate the thought of what is being talked about concerning our wonderful Archive and its collections. Let me know if this doesn't work: http://saveourarchives.blogspot.com:80/ _________________________________________________________________ Get the power of Windows + Web with the new Windows Live. http://www.windowslive.com?ocid=TXT_TAGHM_Wave2_powerofwindows_122007

_________________________________________________________________ Don't get caught with egg on your face. Play Chicktionary! http://club.live.com/chicktionary.aspx?icid=chick_wlhmtextlink1_dec

'Possum in the 'simmon tree Racoon on the ground Racoon says'you sonofagun' Shake dem 'simmons down. >From the mountain song, Hear Rattler Hear ************************************** See AOL's top rated recipes (http://food.aol.com/top-rated-recipes?NCID=aoltop00030000000004)

STANLEY BROWNING wrote: >Beingst" (?) its approaching Christmas, it would be appropriate for >me to further revive your memories of old times in southern West >Virginia with a few church stories. However, I have decided to let >them wait for awhile so that I could wrap up tales about my school >days. Meanwhile, collect your old church stories and be ready to >join in on that subject later on. > >I look forward to your comments, good or bad. I never know which >stories are allowed to pass through to the mailing list, so let me >know if you receive them. > >We must not forget another important aspect of school life "back >then," and that is what we did on our way to and from school. > >I enjoyed school as a child. That first year was filled with many >marvelous discoveries and learning experiences outside as well as >inside the classroom. My list of friends grew rapidly as I met other >children at or near my age who were attending school at Matheny plus >various people that lived along my route to school. Some of those >people showed acts of kindness to me that I count as even more >valuable to me today than they were then. > >Students usually walked and played together to and from school. >Uncle Al Rollins (not my real uncle) had three boys, Jack, Jim and >“Dare” (Darrell), who frequently joined our group of school children >who regularly traversed Coon Branch from early September until late >May. Dare was my age and he liked to fight. More accurately put, he >liked to fight me. Once we had a huge fight and I got in a lucky >punch that bloodied Dare’s nose. His older brothers joined the fray, >whereupon Denise, who was several years older than I came in on my >side. The dispute fizzled out quickly after that and the incident >was all but forgotten. We all continued to be friends. > >Parents had mysterious ways of finding out things then that could >measure up to any modern CIA communication device. My Mother and >Daddy were ready for me when I got home. Seeking sympathy and thus >avoid punishment, I told them that Dare Rollins attacked me and >bloodied my nose. My flimsy attempt to parry blame might have worked >were it not for my lack of an explanation for the bloodstains on my >back left from Dares profusely bleeding nose when he had me down on >the ground pounding me. > >Aunt Valley Stewart lived in a large two-story house farther down the >“Branch” from us. Aunt Valley always kept a large drawer full of >gingerbread cookies and was generous in distributing them to those of >us who often lingered at her house on our way home from school. > >There was a huge black walnut tree above Aunt Valley’s house and >another below. When the frost came and the walnuts fell, the road >was covered from one side to the other with walnuts. These trees >were significant landmarks and cause for my being late from school on >many occasions. The logging trucks traveling the road helped to >remove the outer, stain- producing hulls from the walnuts, but they >didn’t complete the job. Cleanup was left for the school kids. The >longer the unhulled walnuts lay on the ground, the softer and nastier >they became but the easier it became to remove them. The walnut >stain that we had on our hands would wear off eventually, but it was >ground into our clothes forever. We made a game out of cracking >walnuts with stones and seeing who could extract the biggest portion >of the kernel without breaking it. > >Apple trees grew wild in many locations along the road to our >school. Some were holdovers from earlier orchards and others were >from suckers that had sprung up from ancient trees or seeds in those >same old orchards. We knew every one of those trees and the type and >quality of fruit it yielded. The walk home from school was one huge >feast from one end to the other. > >Pawpaws started to ripen shortly after school began. They were a >delicacy for youngsters of my day. We ate the ripe ones that had >fallen to the ground and picked those that were nearly ripe from the >trees and hid them from the other kids until they finished ripening. >I know the location of only a few Pawpaw trees now; however, they >flourished in southern West Virginia when I lived there. > >Close behind pawpaws in desirability were chinquapins. Those little >miniature chestnut look-alikes grew in only a few select places even >in the thirties. I am told that they have essentially disappeared >from the area. My favorite place on Coon Branch, which was a tightly >held secret, was high on a hill behind Uncle Lon Scott’s house. > >There were lots of wild persimmon trees along our route. Those wild >fruit trees were very interesting; that’s the best thing I can say >about them. Those persimmons bore no resemblance to the fruit by >that name found in our modern supermarkets. Although all the >persimmon trees looked alike, their fruit could be quite different. >Some of the trees were characterized as being males and never >produced any fruit. Persimmons don’t ripen until well after the >first frost or into winter, and even then only youngsters with dead >taste buds could tolerate some varieties. We knew of a few trees >that yielded a small deep orange, wrinkled persimmon that was >delicious, but the somewhat larger varieties were best used for >slingshot ammunition. Never try to eat a persimmon before it is >ripe. Only one is enough to produce a pucker such that your best >friend might misunderstand you, and the feeling that the inside of >your mouth is coated with sheetrock dust persists for several minutes. > >Other wild delicacies that renewed our hunter-gatherer instincts in >season were hazel nuts (“hazenuts”) and hickory nuts. Like the >chinquapins, you had to know where to look for hazenuts, but their >whereabouts were well known to the young boys of my generation. >Beech nuts were delicious, but were too small to justify the effort >required to gather them. The same could be said for many of the >large hickory nuts. It was worthwhile to only gather the nuts from >the shell-bark hickory trees; the larger nuts from other varieties of >hickory were too hard to crack. Besides we wanted to leave something >for the gray squirrels. > >There were several large buckeye trees that were usually loaded with >large attractive nuts. Two nuts were contained in a single outer >shell and we were cautioned by old timers to not eat but one of the >nuts because one of them was poison. I never was brave enough to try >to figure out which was the poison nut and verify if there was any >truth in the advice. > >Blackberries and mulberries were all gone by the time school >started. We were cautioned not to eat the mulberries because they >contained insect eggs; but we ate them anyway. The resulting >sickness was due to gluttony, not insects. > > >------------------------------- >To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message > >Hi Shelby What a good story teller & writer u are......Good memories again...Tbere was a persimmon tree in grandma's {Georgia Workman} cem. at poor branch & right down on side of the road was the hazel-nuts 7 walnut trees.....At that schoolhouse at Lenore back in the 40's was a beechnut tree that i have always though about...I cannot find them up here in Bflo, Ny, but I do have lots of black walnuts in the garage ready to be shucked and eat...I might try to make some choc. candy with some of them and that brings back memories. I usually get them along the road down in Va & Tenn. Denzil woodson > > >

Laurel, You are very welcome. I am only sorry that you are so much younger than I am and don't have the memories that I do. Did you know that Brad names his daughter for her, too? Her name is Katherine Elizabeth and we call her Katie. PS we do have a great heritage! Anita </HTML>

Catherine Elizabeth Sturgell Buzzard Runyon, daughter of Eli Sturgell and Mary Alice Belcher was my great grandmother. My sister fondly named her the "June July Fairy Godmother, Queen of the dog-eared Reader's Digest." She was a wonderful woman and we were blessed to have her in our lives. Anita PS Thanks for your help. </HTML>

Hello Stan; About the Pawpaws : they grew in horse & cow pastures back then. That may be reason they are almost extinct today. If you ate more than one or two pawpaws, you may be be ready to vomit; they were very rich fruit, and the tummy would act up. Mulberries have always been good; but I broke an arm from climbing out on one of their fragile limbs one time.I fell about 10 feet on my arm. Oh, well; boys hardly escaped broken arms & legs back then. Fights were common practise, but no one was ever seriously hurt from boyhood fights. We all thought we were a Dempsey or Tunney back then ! But it wasnt all play either; the firewood had to be gathered, and coal placed in the kitchen, before darkness. Shelby ************************************** See AOL's top rated recipes (http://food.aol.com/top-rated-recipes?NCID=aoltop00030000000004)

Regrettably I only got to meet her once when I was three. But I always had a special place in my heart for Granny Runyon, even named my daughter after her (Elizabeth). I was 13 when we lost her and I will always remember when we got that phone call...Juanita's(Buzzard Frailey) the matriarch now (of my branch) and hopefully she'll be around driving Anna Lou up the wall for several more years. Thanks for the smiles (remembering Granny Runyon the first time I saw her, sitting there in her wheel chair and saying "Get over here close enough for an old woman to see ya young'uns!") Laurel [email protected] wrote: Catherine Elizabeth Sturgell Buzzard Runyon, daughter of Eli Sturgell and Mary Alice Belcher was my great grandmother. My sister fondly named her the "June July Fairy Godmother, Queen of the dog-eared Reader's Digest." She was a wonderful woman and we were blessed to have her in our lives. Anita PS Thanks for your help. ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message Homo nosce te ipsum...Man know thyself! --------------------------------- Be a better friend, newshound, and know-it-all with Yahoo! Mobile. Try it now.

Anita I hope that it helped some. K ----- Original Message ----- From: <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Tuesday, December 11, 2007 8:09 AM Subject: Re: [WVLOGAN] John Henry Mead > Thanks for sharing. I believe that we have it straight now. > > Anita </HTML> > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the > quotes in the subject and the body of the message >

Through the Meade side K ----- Original Message ----- From: <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Tuesday, December 11, 2007 8:13 AM Subject: Re: [WVLOGAN] STURGELLS and BELCHERS > //are you related to us? I tell you the branches on that side of my tree > are > getting smaller and smaller. > > Anita </HTML> > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the > quotes in the subject and the body of the message >

Beingst" (?) its approaching Christmas, it would be appropriate for me to further revive your memories of old times in southern West Virginia with a few church stories. However, I have decided to let them wait for awhile so that I could wrap up tales about my school days. Meanwhile, collect your old church stories and be ready to join in on that subject later on. I look forward to your comments, good or bad. I never know which stories are allowed to pass through to the mailing list, so let me know if you receive them. We must not forget another important aspect of school life "back then," and that is what we did on our way to and from school. I enjoyed school as a child. That first year was filled with many marvelous discoveries and learning experiences outside as well as inside the classroom. My list of friends grew rapidly as I met other children at or near my age who were attending school at Matheny plus various people that lived along my route to school. Some of those people showed acts of kindness to me that I count as even more valuable to me today than they were then. Students usually walked and played together to and from school. Uncle Al Rollins (not my real uncle) had three boys, Jack, Jim and “Dare” (Darrell), who frequently joined our group of school children who regularly traversed Coon Branch from early September until late May. Dare was my age and he liked to fight. More accurately put, he liked to fight me. Once we had a huge fight and I got in a lucky punch that bloodied Dare’s nose. His older brothers joined the fray, whereupon Denise, who was several years older than I came in on my side. The dispute fizzled out quickly after that and the incident was all but forgotten. We all continued to be friends. Parents had mysterious ways of finding out things then that could measure up to any modern CIA communication device. My Mother and Daddy were ready for me when I got home. Seeking sympathy and thus avoid punishment, I told them that Dare Rollins attacked me and bloodied my nose. My flimsy attempt to parry blame might have worked were it not for my lack of an explanation for the bloodstains on my back left from Dares profusely bleeding nose when he had me down on the ground pounding me. Aunt Valley Stewart lived in a large two-story house farther down the “Branch” from us. Aunt Valley always kept a large drawer full of gingerbread cookies and was generous in distributing them to those of us who often lingered at her house on our way home from school. There was a huge black walnut tree above Aunt Valley’s house and another below. When the frost came and the walnuts fell, the road was covered from one side to the other with walnuts. These trees were significant landmarks and cause for my being late from school on many occasions. The logging trucks traveling the road helped to remove the outer, stain- producing hulls from the walnuts, but they didn’t complete the job. Cleanup was left for the school kids. The longer the unhulled walnuts lay on the ground, the softer and nastier they became but the easier it became to remove them. The walnut stain that we had on our hands would wear off eventually, but it was ground into our clothes forever. We made a game out of cracking walnuts with stones and seeing who could extract the biggest portion of the kernel without breaking it. Apple trees grew wild in many locations along the road to our school. Some were holdovers from earlier orchards and others were from suckers that had sprung up from ancient trees or seeds in those same old orchards. We knew every one of those trees and the type and quality of fruit it yielded. The walk home from school was one huge feast from one end to the other. Pawpaws started to ripen shortly after school began. They were a delicacy for youngsters of my day. We ate the ripe ones that had fallen to the ground and picked those that were nearly ripe from the trees and hid them from the other kids until they finished ripening. I know the location of only a few Pawpaw trees now; however, they flourished in southern West Virginia when I lived there. Close behind pawpaws in desirability were chinquapins. Those little miniature chestnut look-alikes grew in only a few select places even in the thirties. I am told that they have essentially disappeared from the area. My favorite place on Coon Branch, which was a tightly held secret, was high on a hill behind Uncle Lon Scott’s house. There were lots of wild persimmon trees along our route. Those wild fruit trees were very interesting; that’s the best thing I can say about them. Those persimmons bore no resemblance to the fruit by that name found in our modern supermarkets. Although all the persimmon trees looked alike, their fruit could be quite different. Some of the trees were characterized as being males and never produced any fruit. Persimmons don’t ripen until well after the first frost or into winter, and even then only youngsters with dead taste buds could tolerate some varieties. We knew of a few trees that yielded a small deep orange, wrinkled persimmon that was delicious, but the somewhat larger varieties were best used for slingshot ammunition. Never try to eat a persimmon before it is ripe. Only one is enough to produce a pucker such that your best friend might misunderstand you, and the feeling that the inside of your mouth is coated with sheetrock dust persists for several minutes. Other wild delicacies that renewed our hunter-gatherer instincts in season were hazel nuts (“hazenuts”) and hickory nuts. Like the chinquapins, you had to know where to look for hazenuts, but their whereabouts were well known to the young boys of my generation. Beech nuts were delicious, but were too small to justify the effort required to gather them. The same could be said for many of the large hickory nuts. It was worthwhile to only gather the nuts from the shell-bark hickory trees; the larger nuts from other varieties of hickory were too hard to crack. Besides we wanted to leave something for the gray squirrels. There were several large buckeye trees that were usually loaded with large attractive nuts. Two nuts were contained in a single outer shell and we were cautioned by old timers to not eat but one of the nuts because one of them was poison. I never was brave enough to try to figure out which was the poison nut and verify if there was any truth in the advice. Blackberries and mulberries were all gone by the time school started. We were cautioned not to eat the mulberries because they contained insect eggs; but we ate them anyway. The resulting sickness was due to gluttony, not insects.

Beingst" (?) its approaching Christmas, it would be appropriate for me to further revive your memories of old times in southern West Virginia with a few church stories. However, I have decided to let them wait for awhile so that I could wrap up tales about my school days. Meanwhile, collect your old church stories and be ready to join in on that subject later on. I look forward to your comments, good or bad. I never know which stories are allowed to pass through to the mailing list, so let me know if you receive them. We must not forget another important aspect of school life "back then," and that is what we did on our way to and from school. I enjoyed school as a child. That first year was filled with many marvelous discoveries and learning experiences outside as well as inside the classroom. My list of friends grew rapidly as I met other children at or near my age who were attending school at Matheny plus various people that lived along my route to school. Some of those people showed acts of kindness to me that I count as even more valuable to me today than they were then. Students usually walked and played together to and from school. Uncle Al Rollins (not my real uncle) had three boys, Jack, Jim and “Dare” (Darrell), who frequently joined our group of school children who regularly traversed Coon Branch from early September until late May. Dare was my age and he liked to fight. More accurately put, he liked to fight me. Once we had a huge fight and I got in a lucky punch that bloodied Dare’s nose. His older brothers joined the fray, whereupon Denise, who was several years older than I came in on my side. The dispute fizzled out quickly after that and the incident was all but forgotten. We all continued to be friends. Parents had mysterious ways of finding out things then that could measure up to any modern CIA communication device. My Mother and Daddy were ready for me when I got home. Seeking sympathy and thus avoid punishment, I told them that Dare Rollins attacked me and bloodied my nose. My flimsy attempt to parry blame might have worked were it not for my lack of an explanation for the bloodstains on my back left from Dares profusely bleeding nose when he had me down on the ground pounding me. Aunt Valley Stewart lived in a large two-story house farther down the “Branch” from us. Aunt Valley always kept a large drawer full of gingerbread cookies and was generous in distributing them to those of us who often lingered at her house on our way home from school. There was a huge black walnut tree above Aunt Valley’s house and another below. When the frost came and the walnuts fell, the road was covered from one side to the other with walnuts. These trees were significant landmarks and cause for my being late from school on many occasions. The logging trucks traveling the road helped to remove the outer, stain- producing hulls from the walnuts, but they didn’t complete the job. Cleanup was left for the school kids. The longer the unhulled walnuts lay on the ground, the softer and nastier they became but the easier it became to remove them. The walnut stain that we had on our hands would wear off eventually, but it was ground into our clothes forever. We made a game out of cracking walnuts with stones and seeing who could extract the biggest portion of the kernel without breaking it. Apple trees grew wild in many locations along the road to our school. Some were holdovers from earlier orchards and others were from suckers that had sprung up from ancient trees or seeds in those same old orchards. We knew every one of those trees and the type and quality of fruit it yielded. The walk home from school was one huge feast from one end to the other. Pawpaws started to ripen shortly after school began. They were a delicacy for youngsters of my day. We ate the ripe ones that had fallen to the ground and picked those that were nearly ripe from the trees and hid them from the other kids until they finished ripening. I know the location of only a few Pawpaw trees now; however, they flourished in southern West Virginia when I lived there. Close behind pawpaws in desirability were chinquapins. Those little miniature chestnut look-alikes grew in only a few select places even in the thirties. I am told that they have essentially disappeared from the area. My favorite place on Coon Branch, which was a tightly held secret, was high on a hill behind Uncle Lon Scott’s house. There were lots of wild persimmon trees along our route. Those wild fruit trees were very interesting; that’s the best thing I can say about them. Those persimmons bore no resemblance to the fruit by that name found in our modern supermarkets. Although all the persimmon trees looked alike, their fruit could be quite different. Some of the trees were characterized as being males and never produced any fruit. Persimmons don’t ripen until well after the first frost or into winter, and even then only youngsters with dead taste buds could tolerate some varieties. We knew of a few trees that yielded a small deep orange, wrinkled persimmon that was delicious, but the somewhat larger varieties were best used for slingshot ammunition. Never try to eat a persimmon before it is ripe. Only one is enough to produce a pucker such that your best friend might misunderstand you, and the feeling that the inside of your mouth is coated with sheetrock dust persists for several minutes. Other wild delicacies that renewed our hunter-gatherer instincts in season were hazel nuts (“hazenuts”) and hickory nuts. Like the chinquapins, you had to know where to look for hazenuts, but their whereabouts were well known to the young boys of my generation. Beech nuts were delicious, but were too small to justify the effort required to gather them. The same could be said for many of the large hickory nuts. It was worthwhile to only gather the nuts from the shell-bark hickory trees; the larger nuts from other varieties of hickory were too hard to crack. Besides we wanted to leave something for the gray squirrels. There were several large buckeye trees that were usually loaded with large attractive nuts. Two nuts were contained in a single outer shell and we were cautioned by old timers to not eat but one of the nuts because one of them was poison. I never was brave enough to try to figure out which was the poison nut and verify if there was any truth in the advice. Blackberries and mulberries were all gone by the time school started. We were cautioned not to eat the mulberries because they contained insect eggs; but we ate them anyway. The resulting sickness was due to gluttony, not insects.

//are you related to us? I tell you the branches on that side of my tree are getting smaller and smaller. Anita </HTML>

Thanks for sharing. I believe that we have it straight now. Anita </HTML>

Blackburn's first wife was Lourissa Irick. Married Sept. 10, 1878 Pike County, Kentucky. Produced at least one child, Alpha Sturgill b. about 1879. I do not know about a marriage to Martha Jane Hannah. K ----- Original Message ----- From: <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Monday, December 10, 2007 5:49 PM Subject: [WVLOGAN] STURGELLS and BELCHERS > Got another question for the list... > > On Oct. 2, 1884 (according to the Logan County marriages on line) > Blackburn > Sturgell, II married Eliza Belcher. That I already knew. However it > states > that Blackburn was divorced. Does anyone know who his first wife was? He > also > apparently married a third time to Martha Jane Hannah in 1926. > > Anita </HTML> > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the > quotes in the subject and the body of the message >

Blackburn's son, John married (1) Sarah Meade d/o James Alexander Meade and Amanda Lowe, But prior to his marriage to Sarah Meade John had a fling with (2) Celia Meade that produced Peter Henry Meade. This Celia Meade was also a daughter of William Meade and Minerva Polly Clark. Blackburn's daughter (3) Sarlida Jane Sturgill married Lewis Meade s/o James Alexander Meade and Amanda Lowe. Blackburn's daugther (4) married a Meade, first name is unknown but they had a son named Julius Blackburn Meade. It is unknown if they were actually married or not, her first husband was Hensley Bailey, then the Meade and last Wiley Sheppard. Then you have Blackburn's daughter Priscilla who married (1) John H. Meade also a son of William Meade and Minerva Polly Clark. K ----- Original Message ----- From: <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Sunday, December 09, 2007 3:00 PM Subject: Re: [WVLOGAN] John Henry Mead > Laurel, > > No, you are not confused, we just have a very screwed up ancestry!! > Blackburn's mother was a Pricilla Mead but get this three of his children > married MEADS! > > Daughter Serilla (?) aka Jane married Lewis Mead. Her brother John married > his sister Sarah Mead. Then little sister, Priscilla married his John > Mead. It > is he that I m trying to find the parents of. > > Do you know the parents of the original Priscilla Mead? > God help us all.... > > Anita </HTML> > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the > quotes in the subject and the body of the message >

Priscilla Meade married Elijah Sturgill. This Priscilla was the d/o Sameul Meade and Catherine Goodbread. This is of what I refer to as the Kentucky Meade's. Although I do believe that the WV Meade's and the Kentucky Meade's are related I have not in 20 years been able to find that one link. It was Elijah Sturgill and Priscilla Meade's son, Blackburn Sturgill that married Lucinda Clay and their daughter Priscilla Sturgill that married John H. Meade. K ----- Original Message ----- From: "Laurel Pardo" <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Sunday, December 09, 2007 2:22 PM Subject: Re: [WVLOGAN] John Henry Mead > Anita, > I have a Priscilla Meade married to James Elijah Sturgill, parents of > Blackburn. Am I all confused on this?? I gotta remember to write to Anna > Lou and see what she has (she and Juanita were talking geneaology this > summer, but I was chasing kids and unable to pay full attention, I also > found out Romaine did ALOT of work before she died. I need to remember to > ask Pnut for it). > Laurel > > [email protected] wrote: > Hello Logan County, > > I have a question for you. Does anyone know who the parents of John Henry > Meade that married Pricilla Sturgell was? John was born in Logan County in > about 1852 and is listed in the 1860 census with his mother, Mary and no > husband. > Was Mary a widow or did she have John out of wedlock? > > Please help if you can. > > Anita > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the > quotes in the subject and the body of the message > > > > Homo nosce te ipsum...Man know thyself! > > --------------------------------- > Be a better friend, newshound, and know-it-all with Yahoo! Mobile. Try it > now. > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the > quotes in the subject and the body of the message >

John Henry Meade was the son of William Meade and Minerva "Polly" Clark. Are you sure that you have the right John Henry Meade in that census year. William and Polly had children together until at least 1867. K ----- Original Message ----- From: <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Sunday, December 09, 2007 12:41 PM Subject: [WVLOGAN] John Henry Mead > Hello Logan County, > > I have a question for you. Does anyone know who the parents of John Henry > Meade that married Pricilla Sturgell was? John was born in Logan County > in > about 1852 and is listed in the 1860 census with his mother, Mary and no > husband. > Was Mary a widow or did she have John out of wedlock? > > Please help if you can. > > Anita </HTML> > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the > quotes in the subject and the body of the message >