My Dad was also in the Korean War and still living, Franklin Vanover. Joyce L. Yonts Client Service Representative 571-423-3000 [email protected] "People Making A Difference " american-flag-2a.jpg -----Original Message----- From: [email protected] [mailto:[email protected]] On Behalf Of [email protected] Sent: Tuesday, November 27, 2007 11:10 AM To: [email protected] Subject: Re: [WVLOGAN] (no subject)Re Stanley Stanley, I have a living Uncle from Logan who also was in Korea in 1952. Because he is living I should not post his name here but he also is in the Browning line. Write to me, you might know him. [email protected] ----- Original Message ----- From: "STANLEY BROWNING" <[email protected]> To: "[email protected]>" <[email protected]> Cc: <[email protected]> Sent: Tuesday, November 27, 2007 12:22 AM Subject: [WVLOGAN] (no subject) With so many interesting thanksgiving stories flying about I had resolved to just sit back and enjoy them because I have so many fond memories of Thanksgivings past that I couldn't choose the best story from among them. However, when someone mentioned Army Thanksgiving chow, and I thought of the lonely soldiers away from home stationed in Iraq this Thanksgiving, I no longer could contain myself. I have much to say on the general subject, of Army chow, but I digress. I will relate only one experience. It was Thanksgiving 1952 high on a ridge overlooking the sea in Korea. Climactic conditions and the topography were somewhat similiar to what one might encounter on the ridges in winter here in our Rocky Mountains; however, I was not there because of the exellent skiing. There were no roads to our positions. The snow was deep, it was terribly cold and all of our food, water and supplies were carried up to the lines by caravans of South Korean nationals who were enlisted just for that purpose. (We called them "chogi-bears.") That was how provisions for our Thanksgiving dinner were delivered. I had received letters from home that restated what the papers were saying that each soldier was to receive mega- pounds of turkey with all the trimmings for Thanksgiving dinner. Our cooks set up a makeshift kitchen in a trench behind the lines where they cooked and tried to keep the food warm. We left our positions in shifts and toted our metal mess kits and canteen cups to the "chow hall" expecting to eat ourselves silly. One hasn't really lived until he has eaten and drank from army metal mess equipment at temperatures below zero while wearing heavy mittens and standing and moving around to stay warm. As an aside, I want to say that my hat goes off to the well-meaning designer of mess gear who chose to provide a heavy rim around the lip of the canteen cup. It was a terrific heat sink. Hot coffee would raise the temperature of the rim to a point that one could not bear to place it to his lips. By the time the temperature at the rim could be tolerated, the coffee was near ice cold. On this Thanksgiving, I was served hydrated powdered milk, not coffee; it froze in the cup. Our meal included the usual Thanksgiving fare, i. e., turkey, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, etc. but the portions were miniscule. I took a look at the lonesome little mound on my "plate" and remarked quite loudly that I planned to take a picture of it and mail it to my senator along with a copy of the news story hyping the soldiers' Thanksgiving. Boy did that get attention! My company commander, who overheard my remarks, took me seriously and rushed over and told the cooks to fill my plate and if need be to give me seconds. If something sounds fishy about this story, it apparently was just that. As the rumors had it, the cooks, or someone in a position to do so, had black-marketed some of the provisions intended for troops on the front lines. I don't know if that was true; I never tried to follow up on it as I had other things on my mind. I had plenty to be thankful for in spite of having to threaten everyone but the Almighty to get my Thanksgiving meal. After that, any time I saw my company commander, he asked if I was getting enough to eat. My company commander was not the only one who was interested. That night as the Korean version of Axis Sallie was signing off after providing an evening of music and propaganda from loudspeakers on the next ridge over, she asked if the soldiers of the Forty-Fithth Division had enjoyed their Thanksgiving so far removed from their loved ones. By the way, I can verify that there was plenty of turkey consumed here in Utah this Thanksgiving. STAN ------------------------------- 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

I lived in Korea for 2 years, 1967-1969, I can agree with you about how cold it gets. My husband was on advisory duty with USMC. We were certainly not living under the conditions you guys were. You all were a magnificent group, as are our young people today. Clara Weatherford, TX Ralph Sewell <[email protected]> wrote: Stanley I can certainly relate to your story of Thanksgiving in Korea 1952. I debarked at Inchon about 2 weeks before Thanksgiving 1952 and was quickly

Stanley, I have a living Uncle from Logan who also was in Korea in 1952. Because he is living I should not post his name here but he also is in the Browning line. Write to me, you might know him. [email protected] ----- Original Message ----- From: "STANLEY BROWNING" <[email protected]> To: "[email protected]>" <[email protected]> Cc: <[email protected]> Sent: Tuesday, November 27, 2007 12:22 AM Subject: [WVLOGAN] (no subject) With so many interesting thanksgiving stories flying about I had resolved to just sit back and enjoy them because I have so many fond memories of Thanksgivings past that I couldn't choose the best story from among them. However, when someone mentioned Army Thanksgiving chow, and I thought of the lonely soldiers away from home stationed in Iraq this Thanksgiving, I no longer could contain myself. I have much to say on the general subject, of Army chow, but I digress. I will relate only one experience. It was Thanksgiving 1952 high on a ridge overlooking the sea in Korea. Climactic conditions and the topography were somewhat similiar to what one might encounter on the ridges in winter here in our Rocky Mountains; however, I was not there because of the exellent skiing. There were no roads to our positions. The snow was deep, it was terribly cold and all of our food, water and supplies were carried up to the lines by caravans of South Korean nationals who were enlisted just for that purpose. (We called them "chogi-bears.") That was how provisions for our Thanksgiving dinner were delivered. I had received letters from home that restated what the papers were saying that each soldier was to receive mega- pounds of turkey with all the trimmings for Thanksgiving dinner. Our cooks set up a makeshift kitchen in a trench behind the lines where they cooked and tried to keep the food warm. We left our positions in shifts and toted our metal mess kits and canteen cups to the "chow hall" expecting to eat ourselves silly. One hasn't really lived until he has eaten and drank from army metal mess equipment at temperatures below zero while wearing heavy mittens and standing and moving around to stay warm. As an aside, I want to say that my hat goes off to the well-meaning designer of mess gear who chose to provide a heavy rim around the lip of the canteen cup. It was a terrific heat sink. Hot coffee would raise the temperature of the rim to a point that one could not bear to place it to his lips. By the time the temperature at the rim could be tolerated, the coffee was near ice cold. On this Thanksgiving, I was served hydrated powdered milk, not coffee; it froze in the cup. Our meal included the usual Thanksgiving fare, i. e., turkey, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, etc. but the portions were miniscule. I took a look at the lonesome little mound on my "plate" and remarked quite loudly that I planned to take a picture of it and mail it to my senator along with a copy of the news story hyping the soldiers' Thanksgiving. Boy did that get attention! My company commander, who overheard my remarks, took me seriously and rushed over and told the cooks to fill my plate and if need be to give me seconds. If something sounds fishy about this story, it apparently was just that. As the rumors had it, the cooks, or someone in a position to do so, had black-marketed some of the provisions intended for troops on the front lines. I don't know if that was true; I never tried to follow up on it as I had other things on my mind. I had plenty to be thankful for in spite of having to threaten everyone but the Almighty to get my Thanksgiving meal. After that, any time I saw my company commander, he asked if I was getting enough to eat. My company commander was not the only one who was interested. That night as the Korean version of Axis Sallie was signing off after providing an evening of music and propaganda from loudspeakers on the next ridge over, she asked if the soldiers of the Forty-Fithth Division had enjoyed their Thanksgiving so far removed from their loved ones. By the way, I can verify that there was plenty of turkey consumed here in Utah this Thanksgiving. STAN ------------------------------- 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 Dodie, you mentioned previously: " I have finally finished my book, Whirlwind In Appalachia. It is not for sale. I am sending it to family members as a Christmas present this year. I was born at Whirlwind in Appalachia and most people have never heard of it. Whirlwind is is now extinct, like the lost city of Gilgal in the Bible. According Webster's dictionary, the definition of whirlwind is "a small rotating windstorm of limited extent marked by an inward and upward spiral motion and usually with a progressive motion at all levels." " Dodie (Smith) Browning Where exactly was Whirlwind located? In my research of close familial relations in the Logan County Courthouse record books, I have found that Whirlwind was listed as some of their place of residences....and I often wondered where Whirlwind was, being that the majority of the persons I was researching were originally from Lincoln Co., WV. And knowing that it has been one of those towns that has since disappeared, just like the community of Gill, Lincoln Co., WV, I was not surprised when the courthouse clerks did not know where it was originally.... Thank you, Sandi Chapmanville ____________________________________________________________________________________ Be a better pen pal. Text or chat with friends inside Yahoo! Mail. See how. http://overview.mail.yahoo.com/

Stanley, I enjoyed reading about the apple butter making. I have had the occasion to make apple butter. A women from my church, (deceased now) would have the women and men of our church do an apple butter stir every October. This year I was unable to get the people involved. It is a very time consuming and laborious job, but I thoroughly enjoy every minute of it. The most precious is the time spent with friends. My kids have also had the pleasure of stirring the apple butter, so they know what it is like. I don't think they would call it a pleasure though. Jane in Lorain OH

With so many interesting thanksgiving stories flying about I had resolved to just sit back and enjoy them because I have so many fond memories of Thanksgivings past that I couldn't choose the best story from among them. However, when someone mentioned Army Thanksgiving chow, and I thought of the lonely soldiers away from home stationed in Iraq this Thanksgiving, I no longer could contain myself. I have much to say on the general subject, of Army chow, but I digress. I will relate only one experience. It was Thanksgiving 1952 high on a ridge overlooking the sea in Korea. Climactic conditions and the topography were somewhat similiar to what one might encounter on the ridges in winter here in our Rocky Mountains; however, I was not there because of the exellent skiing. There were no roads to our positions. The snow was deep, it was terribly cold and all of our food, water and supplies were carried up to the lines by caravans of South Korean nationals who were enlisted just for that purpose. (We called them "chogi-bears.") That was how provisions for our Thanksgiving dinner were delivered. I had received letters from home that restated what the papers were saying that each soldier was to receive mega- pounds of turkey with all the trimmings for Thanksgiving dinner. Our cooks set up a makeshift kitchen in a trench behind the lines where they cooked and tried to keep the food warm. We left our positions in shifts and toted our metal mess kits and canteen cups to the "chow hall" expecting to eat ourselves silly. One hasn't really lived until he has eaten and drank from army metal mess equipment at temperatures below zero while wearing heavy mittens and standing and moving around to stay warm. As an aside, I want to say that my hat goes off to the well-meaning designer of mess gear who chose to provide a heavy rim around the lip of the canteen cup. It was a terrific heat sink. Hot coffee would raise the temperature of the rim to a point that one could not bear to place it to his lips. By the time the temperature at the rim could be tolerated, the coffee was near ice cold. On this Thanksgiving, I was served hydrated powdered milk, not coffee; it froze in the cup. Our meal included the usual Thanksgiving fare, i. e., turkey, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, etc. but the portions were miniscule. I took a look at the lonesome little mound on my "plate" and remarked quite loudly that I planned to take a picture of it and mail it to my senator along with a copy of the news story hyping the soldiers' Thanksgiving. Boy did that get attention! My company commander, who overheard my remarks, took me seriously and rushed over and told the cooks to fill my plate and if need be to give me seconds. If something sounds fishy about this story, it apparently was just that. As the rumors had it, the cooks, or someone in a position to do so, had black-marketed some of the provisions intended for troops on the front lines. I don't know if that was true; I never tried to follow up on it as I had other things on my mind. I had plenty to be thankful for in spite of having to threaten everyone but the Almighty to get my Thanksgiving meal. After that, any time I saw my company commander, he asked if I was getting enough to eat. My company commander was not the only one who was interested. That night as the Korean version of Axis Sallie was signing off after providing an evening of music and propaganda from loudspeakers on the next ridge over, she asked if the soldiers of the Forty-Fithth Division had enjoyed their Thanksgiving so far removed from their loved ones. By the way, I can verify that there was plenty of turkey consumed here in Utah this Thanksgiving. STAN

Stanley, I enjoyed reading about the apple butter making. I have had the occasion to make apple butter. A women from my church, (deceased now) would have the women and men of our church do an apple butter stir every October. This year I was unable to get the people involved. It is a very time consuming and laborious job, but I thoroughly enjoy every minute of it. The most precious is the time spent with friends. My kids have also had the pleasure of stirring the apple butter, so they know what it is like. I don't think they would call it a pleasure though. Jane in Lorain OH

Will read this in a moment, but first I wanted to say thank you for the stories. I was born in Logan, but my parents left after about 6 months and moved to DC. I love hearing the old stories and then relaying them to my mom and dad and then they both add some of their own. Keep sending them along. God bless you for sharing, Joyce (used to be Vanover) Yonts :) Joyce L. Yonts Client Service Representative 571-423-3000 [email protected] "People Making A Difference " american-flag-2a.jpg -----Original Message----- From: [email protected] [mailto:[email protected]] On Behalf Of STANLEY BROWNING Sent: Monday, November 26, 2007 5:21 PM To: [email protected] Subject: [WVLOGAN] Growin Up in WV Friends of Southern WV I hope you can receive and will enjoy this short story taken from my own experiences of growing up in southern WV, which is intended to present our region as it existed in the early thirties and forties. Please respond if you like my approach and would like to see more of these stories occasionally. I recognize and respect the decisions of any of the mailing list administrators who are hesitant to allow these narrative inputs. Turkey Creek, Wyoming County My family left Coon Branch, West Virginia, for a short time in the early thirties and moved to the mouth of Turkey Creek on the Guyandotte across the road from where the town of Marrianna now stands. The road down main Turkey Creek connects with the road down Coon Branch and Mother occasionally took my brother, Gene, and sister, Augusta, and me up Turkey Creek and across the mountain to visit my grandparents on Coon Branch. We made the trip on foot except one time when Grandpa John picked us up in his Model-T Ford. The trip could easily be made in a day, even with three small children, but my mother stretched it out for a couple of days so that she could visit along the way. Now, in retrospect, I often consider that, because we were extremely poor, it was one of my mother's ways of obtaining something for us to eat. We wound up Turkey Creek by the large farm and magnificent home of John Ball and then past the Turkey Creek Church. My Browning and Cook ancestors were charter members of the congregation that started that church. Our first stop was at the home of Uncle Walter R. and Aunt Minnie Cook. Aunt Minnie was my Grandma Martha Browning's sister. Uncle Walter's boys Sid and Dale were favorite relatives of my father and I especially liked them because they showed me a lot of attention. They were frequent guests at our house. They would stop in for coffee, a drink of water or just plain conversation as they walked off Turkey Creek on their way to somewhere else. Roscoe , who was older, visited our home at the mouth of Turkey after his corn was "laid by," when he and his boys took time off from farming to visit their favorite fishing hole on the Guyan. One of our visits to Uncle Walter's that stands out in my memory was during apple-harvesting time. The Walter R. Cook household was alive with activity "working up" the apple crop. It was customary for neighbors to help each other on special workdays such as this so there was an unusual number of people present. Beyond the pleasure provided by this opportunity to meet friends and neighbors, people of the community depended upon each other. They knew they would be repaid in kind when they had a need for extra "hands." My mother pitched in while my siblings and I joined the other children there for games and kid's mischief. Later that day neighbors would be seen leaving for home after a hard days work bearing a sampling of the goods they had helped to produce. The ladies and girls were peeling and coring apples and everybody was involved in making cider, apple butter, "fruit" and jelly. ("Fruit" was a generic name for canned apples that often resembled what we commonly would call applesauce today.) Bushels of various types of apples were spread out on the porch and hundreds of yellow jackets crawled and/or circled over them. Different types of apples were best for different types of apple products and little was wasted, Rotting apples were not discarded; the rotting portion was simply removed and the remainder of the apple went into one or the other of the pots. Even the apple peelings were cooked, strained and further cooked to make jelly. They made apple butter in a huge copper kettle with a large hinged steel handle. The kettle and ingredients sat in a special steel frame over a large open fire, which had to be maintained religiously throughout the long operation. It took a long time for the apples to be converted into apple butter and they would easily stick to the container if not stirred continually. Stirring was accomplished with a long-handled, L-shaped paddle with several large holes through the blade. The business end of the device had been stained to a distinctive reddish-brown color from many hours of contact with hot apple mixtures of the past. Apple butter production was labor intensive. Cider was the best of all the products. Old Timers knew which apples produced good cider. Fortunately, cider could be made from small or "blemished' apples, if they were of a variety that produced the right taste. Although the apples did not have to be flawless they could not contain any evidence of mold or spoilage. First, the apples had to be peeled, trimmed of any bad spots and washed. Next, they were crushed into pulp; I don't recall how and can only guess at the procedure. Finally, the juice was extracted from the pulp in a press made especially for that purpose. It was common in that day for a farmer fortunate enough to own special implements, such as a cider press, to share it with neighbors who were not so fortunate. Of course, at this stage, Uncle Walter's cider was only apple juice, called "sweet cider," but we kids pretended it was the real stuff ("hard cider") as we feigned drunkenness and reeled about the premises. Nonetheless, we found it to be delicious, and there was plenty to go around. Some of the juice would be made into hard cider by allowing it to ferment naturally and age before use. This final step is very critical to get the right product and not vinegar, I have no idea of the details involved. Later on in the season, different kinds of apples would ripen on this and other local farms often resulting in different uses for the fruit. Apples from sweet-apple trees didn't "cook up good" and were made into preserves. Other apples were peeled, cored and cut into wedges, which were strung on a cord and hung out in the sun until they were dry and ready for storage for use later on. Lots of people didn't bother with stringing the wedges, preferring, instead, to spread them on the roofs of their houses to dry. Some varieties were good "eatin apples" and would be wrapped in paper and stored in the cool, hillside cellars or a deep hole in the ground so that the family could enjoy fresh apples far into the winter. Continuing up Turkey Creek from Uncle Walter's the Browning family visited the homes of Uncle Birt and Aunt Fanny Stewart and Uncle Burl and Aunt Lilly Cook. Uncle Frank and Aunt Nellie Webb also lived on Turkey creek, but I don't recall ever visiting them. The little Turkey Creek schoolhouse with the high steps in front, which had also served several generations as a community center, was a special landmark along the way. Neither Uncle Birt nor Aunt Fanny were close relatives, but it was easier to simply call them uncle and aunt than to take the time to try to figure out if they really were our kin. Youngsters habitually called elderly people aunt or uncle in our neck of the woods. I have never felt a necessity to change. Uncle Burl Cook was my Grandma Martha's brother and Aunt Minnie Webb was her sister. All of our hosts were farmers. Usually, neither they nor their grown children who were still at home worked at public works, and a visit afforded an opportunity to meet the whole family. They were generous and kind and seemed always glad to see you. It was their nature to never let anyone leave their house hungry. Our last stop before crossing the mountain that separates Coon Branch and Turkey Creek was the home of John and Margaret ("Mag" or "Meggie") Spence. I am guessing that Meggie was a favorite girlhood friend of my mothers because it was obviously her favorite visit. It was there that we stayed all night before we assaulted the steep mountain road that led to Grandpa and Granny Shumate's house. Mother and Meggie spent hours sitting and talking after everyone else had gone to bed. It was no big deal that we slept on the floor. It was also my favorite stop because the Spence children were closer to my age than my cousins farther down Turkey Creek. Although I enjoyed frolicking with Wayman, Benton and Warren at Uncle Birt's house, that was no substitute for playing at the Spence house with a house full of girls who had a brother who was only slightly younger than I was. On Nov 18, 2007, at 8:20 AM, LifeBuyDesign wrote: > Stan: > Thanks for the memories. I went to Wyoming School. I also attended > from time > to time the little white school house on Turkey Creek, the school > where my > Grandpa, Walter R Cook taught for so long. Your stories bring back > good > memories of good and peaceful times that always touch the heart. > Memories of > a time past that make us who we are today. Once a West Virginian, > always a > West Virginian. A place that touches the soul. > When my girls were small I would tell then stories of home and > family. My > one daughter finally confessed that when she was little she thought > I was a > pilgrim. HAHA! > Betty Cook Martinez > ----- Original Message ----- > From: "STANLEY BROWNING" <[email protected]> > To: <[email protected]> > Cc: "Business Source" <[email protected]> > Sent: Saturday, November 17, 2007 9:14 PM > Subject: [WVWYOMIN] School Days > > > To: Any who wish to take the time to read this > From: Stan Browning > > The following was originally written for the enjoyment of my two > granddaughters. It is offered here as a nostalgic reminder to us > all. Please look past the personal aspects to the descriptions that > typify conditions and attitudes of the times. I wager that the Old > Matheny Grade School was similar to the one that some of you attended. > > +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ > > SCHOOL DAYS > > Times were hard in Wyoming County when I became old enough that the > law required that I start school. I looked forward with much anxiety > for my first day of school commencing in September 1936. My mother > had outfitted me with some store-bought clothes from the Montgomery > Ward Catalog, which were probably the first clothes that I had ever > owned that had not been home made or worn first by some other child. > I was ready to show off. > > I guess I was fairly typical of the boys who were beginning a journey > that year at the old Matheny Grade School, in Wyoming County, West > Virginia, that would take us, by differing paths, from the confines > ------------------------------- 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

Thank you, again. I had Gore cousins at Pecks Mill and remember the area. Rick On Nov 26, 2007 1:41 PM, Sandi <[email protected]> wrote: > Rick, > > You are welcome....I failed to mention that the main way of access to Lake > is by way of Mill Creek Rd, at Pecks Mill, from old Rt 10, or coming across > the Guyandotte River on the Pecks Mill Bridge from old Rt. 119 that goes to > Mitchell Hts, and on toward West Logan and to the big town of Logan..... > > I love where I live. ;-) > > Sandi > > ----- Original Message ---- > From: Richard Stewart <[email protected]> > To: [email protected] > Sent: Monday, November 26, 2007 1:32:00 PM > Subject: Re: [WVLOGAN] Town of Lake > > Thank you, Sandi. I've seen Lake referred to in news stories in the > Banner > lately. Rick > > On Nov 26, 2007 12:05 PM, Sandi <[email protected]> wrote: > > > Hi Rick, > > > > Lake is not a town, but just a small, unincorporated community. You > could > > drive through it and miss it....lol. > > It allows access to the mouth of Craddocks' Fork. > > > > It can also, be accessed by way of the end of Garretts Fork Road off of > > Rt. 119 from Chapmanville. > > > > Sandi > > > > > > > > ----- Original Message ---- > > From: Richard Stewart <[email protected]> > > To: [email protected] > > Sent: Sunday, November 25, 2007 5:14:16 PM > > Subject: [WVLOGAN] Town of Lake > > > > Does anyone know anything about the town of Lake in Logan Co.? I looked > > on > > a map, and it seems to be between Hewitts Creek in Boone Co. and the > > Chapmanville area. There are roads to the town from Hewitts and > > Chapmanville, but it seems very isolated. Thanks. Rick > > > > ------------------------------- > > 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 > > > > > > > > > ____________________________________________________________________________________ > > Never miss a thing. Make Yahoo your home page. > > http://www.yahoo.com/r/hs > > > > ------------------------------- > > 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 > > > > ____________________________________________________________________________________ > Get easy, one-click access to your favorites. > Make Yahoo! your homepage. > http://www.yahoo.com/r/hs > > ------------------------------- > 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 >

Friends of Southern WV I hope you can receive and will enjoy this short story taken from my own experiences of growing up in southern WV, which is intended to present our region as it existed in the early thirties and forties. Please respond if you like my approach and would like to see more of these stories occasionally. I recognize and respect the decisions of any of the mailing list administrators who are hesitant to allow these narrative inputs. Turkey Creek, Wyoming County My family left Coon Branch, West Virginia, for a short time in the early thirties and moved to the mouth of Turkey Creek on the Guyandotte across the road from where the town of Marrianna now stands. The road down main Turkey Creek connects with the road down Coon Branch and Mother occasionally took my brother, Gene, and sister, Augusta, and me up Turkey Creek and across the mountain to visit my grandparents on Coon Branch. We made the trip on foot except one time when Grandpa John picked us up in his Model-T Ford. The trip could easily be made in a day, even with three small children, but my mother stretched it out for a couple of days so that she could visit along the way. Now, in retrospect, I often consider that, because we were extremely poor, it was one of my mother’s ways of obtaining something for us to eat. We wound up Turkey Creek by the large farm and magnificent home of John Ball and then past the Turkey Creek Church. My Browning and Cook ancestors were charter members of the congregation that started that church. Our first stop was at the home of Uncle Walter R. and Aunt Minnie Cook. Aunt Minnie was my Grandma Martha Browning’s sister. Uncle Walter’s boys Sid and Dale were favorite relatives of my father and I especially liked them because they showed me a lot of attention. They were frequent guests at our house. They would stop in for coffee, a drink of water or just plain conversation as they walked off Turkey Creek on their way to somewhere else. Roscoe , who was older, visited our home at the mouth of Turkey after his corn was “laid by,” when he and his boys took time off from farming to visit their favorite fishing hole on the Guyan. One of our visits to Uncle Walter’s that stands out in my memory was during apple-harvesting time. The Walter R. Cook household was alive with activity ”working up” the apple crop. It was customary for neighbors to help each other on special workdays such as this so there was an unusual number of people present. Beyond the pleasure provided by this opportunity to meet friends and neighbors, people of the community depended upon each other. They knew they would be repaid in kind when they had a need for extra “hands.” My mother pitched in while my siblings and I joined the other children there for games and kid’s mischief. Later that day neighbors would be seen leaving for home after a hard days work bearing a sampling of the goods they had helped to produce. The ladies and girls were peeling and coring apples and everybody was involved in making cider, apple butter, “fruit” and jelly. (“Fruit” was a generic name for canned apples that often resembled what we commonly would call applesauce today.) Bushels of various types of apples were spread out on the porch and hundreds of yellow jackets crawled and/or circled over them. Different types of apples were best for different types of apple products and little was wasted, Rotting apples were not discarded; the rotting portion was simply removed and the remainder of the apple went into one or the other of the pots. Even the apple peelings were cooked, strained and further cooked to make jelly. They made apple butter in a huge copper kettle with a large hinged steel handle. The kettle and ingredients sat in a special steel frame over a large open fire, which had to be maintained religiously throughout the long operation. It took a long time for the apples to be converted into apple butter and they would easily stick to the container if not stirred continually. Stirring was accomplished with a long-handled, L-shaped paddle with several large holes through the blade. The business end of the device had been stained to a distinctive reddish-brown color from many hours of contact with hot apple mixtures of the past. Apple butter production was labor intensive. Cider was the best of all the products. Old Timers knew which apples produced good cider. Fortunately, cider could be made from small or “blemished’ apples, if they were of a variety that produced the right taste. Although the apples did not have to be flawless they could not contain any evidence of mold or spoilage. First, the apples had to be peeled, trimmed of any bad spots and washed. Next, they were crushed into pulp; I don’t recall how and can only guess at the procedure. Finally, the juice was extracted from the pulp in a press made especially for that purpose. It was common in that day for a farmer fortunate enough to own special implements, such as a cider press, to share it with neighbors who were not so fortunate. Of course, at this stage, Uncle Walter’s cider was only apple juice, called “sweet cider,” but we kids pretended it was the real stuff ("hard cider") as we feigned drunkenness and reeled about the premises. Nonetheless, we found it to be delicious, and there was plenty to go around. Some of the juice would be made into hard cider by allowing it to ferment naturally and age before use. This final step is very critical to get the right product and not vinegar, I have no idea of the details involved. Later on in the season, different kinds of apples would ripen on this and other local farms often resulting in different uses for the fruit. Apples from sweet-apple trees didn’t “cook up good” and were made into preserves. Other apples were peeled, cored and cut into wedges, which were strung on a cord and hung out in the sun until they were dry and ready for storage for use later on. Lots of people didn’t bother with stringing the wedges, preferring, instead, to spread them on the roofs of their houses to dry. Some varieties were good “eatin apples” and would be wrapped in paper and stored in the cool, hillside cellars or a deep hole in the ground so that the family could enjoy fresh apples far into the winter. Continuing up Turkey Creek from Uncle Walter’s the Browning family visited the homes of Uncle Birt and Aunt Fanny Stewart and Uncle Burl and Aunt Lilly Cook. Uncle Frank and Aunt Nellie Webb also lived on Turkey creek, but I don’t recall ever visiting them. The little Turkey Creek schoolhouse with the high steps in front, which had also served several generations as a community center, was a special landmark along the way. Neither Uncle Birt nor Aunt Fanny were close relatives, but it was easier to simply call them uncle and aunt than to take the time to try to figure out if they really were our kin. Youngsters habitually called elderly people aunt or uncle in our neck of the woods. I have never felt a necessity to change. Uncle Burl Cook was my Grandma Martha’s brother and Aunt Minnie Webb was her sister. All of our hosts were farmers. Usually, neither they nor their grown children who were still at home worked at public works, and a visit afforded an opportunity to meet the whole family. They were generous and kind and seemed always glad to see you. It was their nature to never let anyone leave their house hungry. Our last stop before crossing the mountain that separates Coon Branch and Turkey Creek was the home of John and Margaret (“Mag” or “Meggie”) Spence. I am guessing that Meggie was a favorite girlhood friend of my mothers because it was obviously her favorite visit. It was there that we stayed all night before we assaulted the steep mountain road that led to Grandpa and Granny Shumate’s house. Mother and Meggie spent hours sitting and talking after everyone else had gone to bed. It was no big deal that we slept on the floor. It was also my favorite stop because the Spence children were closer to my age than my cousins farther down Turkey Creek. Although I enjoyed frolicking with Wayman, Benton and Warren at Uncle Birt’s house, that was no substitute for playing at the Spence house with a house full of girls who had a brother who was only slightly younger than I was. On Nov 18, 2007, at 8:20 AM, LifeBuyDesign wrote: > Stan: > Thanks for the memories. I went to Wyoming School. I also attended > from time > to time the little white school house on Turkey Creek, the school > where my > Grandpa, Walter R Cook taught for so long. Your stories bring back > good > memories of good and peaceful times that always touch the heart. > Memories of > a time past that make us who we are today. Once a West Virginian, > always a > West Virginian. A place that touches the soul. > When my girls were small I would tell then stories of home and > family. My > one daughter finally confessed that when she was little she thought > I was a > pilgrim. HAHA! > Betty Cook Martinez > ----- Original Message ----- > From: "STANLEY BROWNING" <[email protected]> > To: <[email protected]> > Cc: "Business Source" <[email protected]> > Sent: Saturday, November 17, 2007 9:14 PM > Subject: [WVWYOMIN] School Days > > > To: Any who wish to take the time to read this > From: Stan Browning > > The following was originally written for the enjoyment of my two > granddaughters. It is offered here as a nostalgic reminder to us > all. Please look past the personal aspects to the descriptions that > typify conditions and attitudes of the times. I wager that the Old > Matheny Grade School was similar to the one that some of you attended. > > +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ > > SCHOOL DAYS > > Times were hard in Wyoming County when I became old enough that the > law required that I start school. I looked forward with much anxiety > for my first day of school commencing in September 1936. My mother > had outfitted me with some store-bought clothes from the Montgomery > Ward Catalog, which were probably the first clothes that I had ever > owned that had not been home made or worn first by some other child. > I was ready to show off. > > I guess I was fairly typical of the boys who were beginning a journey > that year at the old Matheny Grade School, in Wyoming County, West > Virginia, that would take us, by differing paths, from the confines >

Friends of Southern WV I hope you can receive and will enjoy this short story taken from my own experiences of growing up in a rural area in southern WV, which is intended to present our region as it existed in the early thirties and forties. Please respond if you like my approach and would like to see more occasionally. Some mailing list administrators are hesitant to allow these narrative inputs. Turkey Creek, Wyoming County My family left Coon Branch, West Virginia, for a short time in the early thirties and moved to the mouth of Turkey Creek on the Guyandotte across the road from where the town of Marrianna now stands. The road down main Turkey Creek connects with the road down Coon Branch and Mother occasionally took my brother, Gene, and sister, Augusta, and me up Turkey Creek and across the mountain to visit my grandparents on Coon Branch. We made the trip on foot except one time when Grandpa John picked us up in his Model-T Ford. The trip could easily be made in a day, even with three small children, but my mother stretched it out for a couple of days so that she could visit along the way. Now, in retrospect, I often consider that, because we were extremely poor, it was one of my mother’s ways of obtaining something for us to eat. We wound up Turkey Creek by the large farm and magnificent home of John Ball and then past the Turkey Creek Church. My Browning and Cook ancestors were charter members of the congregation that started that church. Our first stop was at the home of Uncle Walter R. and Aunt Minnie Cook. Aunt Minnie was my Grandma Martha Browning’s sister. Uncle Walter’s boys Sid and Dale were favorite relatives of my father and I especially liked them because they showed me a lot of attention. They were frequent guests at our house. They would stop in for coffee, a drink of water or just plain conversation as they walked off Turkey Creek on their way to somewhere else. Roscoe , who was older, visited our home at the mouth of Turkey after his corn was “laid by,” when he and his boys took time off from farming to visit their favorite fishing hole on the Guyan. One of our visits to Uncle Walter’s that stands out in my memory was during apple-harvesting time. The Walter R. Cook household was alive with activity ”working up” the apple crop. It was customary for neighbors to help each other on special workdays such as this so there was an unusual number of people present. Beyond the pleasure provided by this opportunity to meet friends and neighbors, people of the community depended upon each other. They knew they would be repaid in kind when they had a need for extra “hands.” My mother pitched in while my siblings and I joined the other children there for games and kid’s mischief. Later that day neighbors would be seen leaving for home after a hard days work bearing a sampling of the goods they had helped to produce. The ladies and girls were peeling and coring apples and everybody was involved in making cider, apple butter, “fruit” and jelly. (“Fruit” was a generic name for canned apples that often resembled what we commonly would call applesauce today.) Bushels of various types of apples were spread out on the porch and hundreds of yellow jackets crawled and/or circled over them. Different types of apples were best for different types of apple products and little was wasted, Rotting apples were not discarded; the rotting portion was simply removed and the remainder of the apple went into one or the other of the pots. Even the apple peelings were cooked, strained and further cooked to make jelly. They made apple butter in a huge copper kettle with a large hinged steel handle. The kettle and ingredients sat in a special steel frame over a large open fire, which had to be maintained religiously throughout the long operation. It took a long time for the apples to be converted into apple butter and they would easily stick to the container if not stirred continually. Stirring was accomplished with a long-handled, L-shaped paddle with several large holes through the blade. The business end of the device had been stained to a distinctive reddish-brown color from many hours of contact with hot apple mixtures of the past. Apple butter production was labor intensive. Cider was the best of all the products. Old Timers knew which apples produced good cider. Fortunately, cider could be made from small or “blemished’ apples, if they were of a variety that produced the right taste. Although the apples did not have to be flawless they could not contain any evidence of mold or spoilage. First, the apples had to be peeled, trimmed of any bad spots and washed. Next, they were crushed into pulp; I don’t recall how and can only guess at the procedure. Finally, the juice was extracted from the pulp in a press made especially for that purpose. It was common in that day for a farmer fortunate enough to own special implements, such as a cider press, to share it with neighbors who were not so fortunate. Of course, at this stage, Uncle Walter’s cider was only apple juice, called “sweet cider,” but we kids pretended it was the real stuff ("hard cider") as we feigned drunkenness and reeled about the premises. Nonetheless, we found it to be delicious, and there was plenty to go around. Some of the juice would be made into hard cider by allowing it to ferment naturally and age before use. This final step is very critical to get the right product and not vinegar, I have no idea of the details involved. Later on in the season, different kinds of apples would ripen on this and other local farms often resulting in different uses for the fruit. Apples from sweet-apple trees didn’t “cook up good” and were made into preserves. Other apples were peeled, cored and cut into wedges, which were strung on a cord and hung out in the sun until they were dry and ready for storage for use later on. Lots of people didn’t bother with stringing the wedges, preferring, instead, to spread them on the roofs of their houses to dry. Some varieties were good “eatin apples” and would be wrapped in paper and stored in the cool, hillside cellars or a deep hole in the ground so that the family could enjoy fresh apples far into the winter. >

All those Craddocks & Lakes my cousins too : The Craddocks(thru the Canterburys); the Lakes are cousins also, as grandpa Baisden m. Geordiannis Lake (Ist marriage) Im beginning to wonder if there's a holler down there That DOESNT have any of my kin , in Logan & Boone counties !! Shelby ************************************** Check out AOL's list of 2007's hottest products. (http://money.aol.com/special/hot-products-2007?NCID=aoltop00030000000001)

Thank you, Sandi. I've seen Lake referred to in news stories in the Banner lately. Rick On Nov 26, 2007 12:05 PM, Sandi <[email protected]> wrote: > Hi Rick, > > Lake is not a town, but just a small, unincorporated community. You could > drive through it and miss it....lol. > It allows access to the mouth of Craddocks' Fork. > > It can also, be accessed by way of the end of Garretts Fork Road off of > Rt. 119 from Chapmanville. > > Sandi > > > > ----- Original Message ---- > From: Richard Stewart <[email protected]> > To: [email protected] > Sent: Sunday, November 25, 2007 5:14:16 PM > Subject: [WVLOGAN] Town of Lake > > Does anyone know anything about the town of Lake in Logan Co.? I looked > on > a map, and it seems to be between Hewitts Creek in Boone Co. and the > Chapmanville area. There are roads to the town from Hewitts and > Chapmanville, but it seems very isolated. Thanks. Rick > > ------------------------------- > 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 > > > > ____________________________________________________________________________________ > Never miss a thing. Make Yahoo your home page. > http://www.yahoo.com/r/hs > > ------------------------------- > 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 >

Rick, You are welcome....I failed to mention that the main way of access to Lake is by way of Mill Creek Rd, at Pecks Mill, from old Rt 10, or coming across the Guyandotte River on the Pecks Mill Bridge from old Rt. 119 that goes to Mitchell Hts, and on toward West Logan and to the big town of Logan..... I love where I live. ;-) Sandi ----- Original Message ---- From: Richard Stewart <[email protected]> To: [email protected] Sent: Monday, November 26, 2007 1:32:00 PM Subject: Re: [WVLOGAN] Town of Lake Thank you, Sandi. I've seen Lake referred to in news stories in the Banner lately. Rick On Nov 26, 2007 12:05 PM, Sandi <[email protected]> wrote: > Hi Rick, > > Lake is not a town, but just a small, unincorporated community. You could > drive through it and miss it....lol. > It allows access to the mouth of Craddocks' Fork. > > It can also, be accessed by way of the end of Garretts Fork Road off of > Rt. 119 from Chapmanville. > > Sandi > > > > ----- Original Message ---- > From: Richard Stewart <[email protected]> > To: [email protected] > Sent: Sunday, November 25, 2007 5:14:16 PM > Subject: [WVLOGAN] Town of Lake > > Does anyone know anything about the town of Lake in Logan Co.? I looked > on > a map, and it seems to be between Hewitts Creek in Boone Co. and the > Chapmanville area. There are roads to the town from Hewitts and > Chapmanville, but it seems very isolated. Thanks. Rick > > ------------------------------- > 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 > > > > ____________________________________________________________________________________ > Never miss a thing. Make Yahoo your home page. > http://www.yahoo.com/r/hs > > ------------------------------- > 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 ____________________________________________________________________________________ Get easy, one-click access to your favorites. Make Yahoo! your homepage. http://www.yahoo.com/r/hs

Hi Rick, Lake is not a town, but just a small, unincorporated community. You could drive through it and miss it....lol. It allows access to the mouth of Craddocks' Fork. It can also, be accessed by way of the end of Garretts Fork Road off of Rt. 119 from Chapmanville. Sandi ----- Original Message ---- From: Richard Stewart <[email protected]> To: [email protected] Sent: Sunday, November 25, 2007 5:14:16 PM Subject: [WVLOGAN] Town of Lake Does anyone know anything about the town of Lake in Logan Co.? I looked on a map, and it seems to be between Hewitts Creek in Boone Co. and the Chapmanville area. There are roads to the town from Hewitts and Chapmanville, but it seems very isolated. Thanks. Rick ------------------------------- 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 ____________________________________________________________________________________ Never miss a thing. Make Yahoo your home page. http://www.yahoo.com/r/hs

Patty Glad that I could help and glad that we actually found something for you. K ----- Original Message ----- From: <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Wednesday, November 21, 2007 10:28 PM Subject: Re: [WVLOGAN] [WVLOGAN Devil Anse Hatfield's daughter Mary > Charlotte, Joel and K , Thanks so much for the help ,with Mary > Hatfield > [ Simpkins ] > > God Bless > Patty S. Cartwright > > > > **************************************Check out AOL's list of 2007's > hottest > products. > (http://money.aol.com/special/hot-products-2007?NCID=aoltop00030000000001) > > ------------------------------- > 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 > >

Thank you, Shelby. Cousin Rick On Nov 25, 2007 4:25 PM, <[email protected]> wrote: > Lake,Wv is in Logan county, but near the Boone co. line, on Hewitt creek. > Named for the Chrsistopher Lake family, who were early settlers. > > Shelby > > > ************************************** > Check out AOL's list of 2007's > hottest products. > > (http://money.aol.com/special/hot-products-2007?NCID=aoltop00030000000001) > > ------------------------------- > 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 >

Lake,Wv is in Logan county, but near the Boone co. line, on Hewitt creek. Named for the Chrsistopher Lake family, who were early settlers. Shelby ************************************** Check out AOL's list of 2007's hottest products. (http://money.aol.com/special/hot-products-2007?NCID=aoltop00030000000001)

Does anyone know anything about the town of Lake in Logan Co.? I looked on a map, and it seems to be between Hewitts Creek in Boone Co. and the Chapmanville area. There are roads to the town from Hewitts and Chapmanville, but it seems very isolated. Thanks. Rick

Shelby, when you were talking about God's hand in the creation of the coal. I once had an Historical Geology teacher whom I posed the question... Let's assume creation for a moment. If God created Adam and Eve, they obviously had an "appearance of age". They were not born as infants, they were adults. Why couldn't this same God create an earth with an appearance of age as well? His reply was... there is no argument for that question. Carbon dating has it's issues and it is NOT perfect. But I also believe that God is completely capable of creating a world with an appearance of age, and therefore some type of historical record even though the earth is not as old as some would like to have us believe. Laura -----Original Message----- From: [email protected] [mailto:[email protected]] On Behalf Of [email protected] Sent: Sunday, November 25, 2007 9:18 AM To: [email protected] Subject: [WVLOGAN] Mining Stories ots I once had a big collection of fossils, I dug out of the coal seams, in WV. They included vegetation : Ferns, other flowers. Also trapped forest animals,such as snakes,chipmunks,lizards, frogs. I suppose this goes along with evolution process,as the decayed vegetation turned into coal over the ages. However, someone had to place the vegetation there to begin with, so we will not omit God, the almighty creator. I have always thought the two went hand in hand. Which reminds me of a story about the preacher & the sinner being partners in loading coal together. The coal was cut & blasted down ; along with the coal was lots of rock that had to be removed by the two. The sinner was swearing while removing the rock, and the preacher said: " Now, now; none of that; the Lord gave us this coal for a livlihood". The sinner looked over at him & said: " I know the Lord gave us the coal for a blessing, BUT, I believe He went to sleep, and the devil put this old rock in the coal" >grin> Shelby ************************************** Check out AOL's list of 2007's hottest products. (http://money.aol.com/special/hot-products-2007?NCID=aoltop00030000000001) ------------------------------- 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