Coal Mining Memories

The above picture is my Grandpa & Grandma Garretson in 1935. They were from a little town called Brushton, WV. They were a coal mining family. They are with four of their 10 children in this picture. The littlest one is a grandson. The teenage boy is my Daddy.

Grandma Mary Garretson, Grandpa Coy (Poppy) Garretson, and my aunt Stella Garretson.

My uncle Sebert. He was 16 years old in this picture. He died in the mines when he was still a young man, leaving behind a wife and small daughters.

My heart goes out to the families of the WV Coal Mine disaster this week. My family has worked in the mines for generations in Boone County, WV. That is about 27 miles northwest of the mine in Raleigh County that suffered the explosion.

My Grandpa Garretson (Poppy) and my Uncle Sebert worked in the mines. Daddy worked in them awhile but did not like it. When he got older, he worked for the C & O Railroad which hauled the coal out of the mines. My Uncle Kenneth hauled coal out in a big coal truck. My husband even worked for a machine company that repaired equipment for the mines. He used to go down into the mines and repair the equipment on site. I thank God daily that he no longer does that.

I have always felt a deep respect for miners and the work they do. To a miner, it is more than a job. It is a way of life. They understand the dangers, they know the risks. Yet, they do it day in and day out because their fathers and grandfathers worked in the mines. In some cases, it is the only way of life they know.

My father, my grandparents, my uncles and aunts have all passed on. But I remember visiting Grandma Garretson and seeing all the mining towns. My Uncle Kenneth would wash his coal truck on Friday's and then take us on rides around town in the back of it after dark. I dedicate my blog to the miners who have lost their lives and to the families that will miss them. Let's keep them all in our prayers.

I don't believe I'd a told that....

Lewis Grizzard once did a presentation called "I don't believe I'd a told that. How many times in your life do you hear someone giving you a blow by blow detailed accountant of something they experienced or did and you think "I can't believe they just said that." One of the best examples is when you pass someone in the store that you barely know and politely say "Hey, how have you been?" Then they proceed to tell you EXACTLY how they have been. They will go on an on about their neighbors' kids, their family, their co-workers, their health ... anything they can find to complain about. I'm okay with hearing how you are doing when we are friends or family. But for somebody I barely know to tell me every little detail of thier life, ARRGGHH. A simple "Fine, how about you?" would suffice. I was at the store today and a lady put her groceries on the counter to be rung up. I was waiting on my bagger to get finished. The clerk had been greeting everybody in line the same way. She would say "Good morning, how are you doing?" Well she said it to the lady behind me and the lady responded heatedly "Well, I'm just X#$@ing #%@*#ing. I will not repeat what those words were. I was so offended. I thought, "Why in the world would you ever answer ANYBODY with those words, much less somebody who is just making conversations in the grocery line. I definitely could not believe my ears. It did make me stop and be thankful that my life, while not perfect, is so great to me that it would never enter my mind to answer a simple "How are you doing" question with offensive language. You just have to whisper a prayer and go on.

Spring Break

As a child, we look forward to spring break. A week out of school is sheer bliss. When we were growing up, spring break was a time to re-hide the Easter eggs. We would hide and hunt eggs all week long. We never tired of it. It would keep us busy for hours. When I grew up, spring break was a time to spend with friends. A time to get a taste of what our summer would be like. When I got married and had children, spring break was a time for them to the spend every day at their mamaw's while I worked. I would take them there on my way to work and pick them up at the end of the day. They would go places on the "town" bus. They would play and run the hills, re-hiding their Easter eggs much as I did when I was little. I would have to work while they got to have a wonderful, fun week. As they grew up and got married, spring break became a time when most of my co-workers would take vacations to be home with their children. Many of them would leave town for trips. When I would be in customer service or sales, it would be a slow week because most of my clients had kids and would be on spring break vacation themselves. Now that I have grandchildren and own my own business, spring break is fun again. I get to be the one to take off if I want and spend time with my grandchildren. I get to take them on vacations and do special things with them. Most of my clients still take off this week so it is a perfect time for me to have some family time. I just love spring break.

I Know My Redeemer Lives

Who taught the sun where to stand in the morning?

Who told the ocean, "You can only come this far"?

And who showed the moon where to hide till evening?

Whose words alone can catch a falling star?

The very same God that spins things in orbit,

Runs to the weary, the worn and the weak.

And the same gentle hands that hold me when I'm broken,

They conquered death to bring me victory.

Well, I know my redeemer lives. I know my redeemer lives.

All of creation testifies. This life within my cries I know my redeemer lives.

By Nicole C. Mullen

Pete & Gladys

We live on the French Broad River. For the past 10 or 11 years, we have seen many geese and ducks on our banks of the river. Over the years, we have had frequent visitors that we can recognize by distinctive markings.

For about 8 years now, there is one very distinctive couple that arrives every April like clockwork. I named them Pete and Gladys (after a favorite sitcom of mine in the early 60's).

Pete and Gladys come back every year and spend most of their time from early spring till late fall in my yard. They will float up and down the river. Then they waddle out at the old boat ramp by my house and walk up the road to cross into the backyard. Once there, they generally like to lay in the soft grass up around our patio. This picture was taken about 2 foot off the patio a couple of days ago.

Sometimes we see as many as 50 or 60 ducks and Canadian geese down the yard closer to the river, but Pete and Gladys are the only ones that venture so close to the house. Everywhere Pete goes, Gladys follows. She never gets up and leaves without him. If they are taking a walk, he sticks right beside her. If another gentleman mallard approaches Gladys, Pete runs and flaps his wings and chases him off.

It is so adorable. When she is laying to rest, many times he will stand guard over her. He stands perfectly still and doesn't blink or move a muscle. I spend about 15 minutes sitting there watching them while I took several pictures the other night. Even when I snapped and the flash went off and the camera whirred, he just stood there.

He is like one of the guards at the Buckingham Palace. Which is kind of unique because Mallard is an old English name. It means "keeper of the mill". The word keeper means:

a. An attendant or a guard b. One that has the charge or care of something So, Mr. Pete "Mallard" takes the meaning of his name seriously and guards the misses with his life.

And we think we have bad days....

Spike vs. The Skunk

It was a dark night. Not many stars out and Spike decided he needed one last trip outside before he settled down at night. Daddy H. opened the back door and started outside with Spike. Part way down the steps, a skunk lay in hiding, waiting for its pray.

You've all heard the expression "Ready, aim, fire!" Well, Mr. Skunk sure took that saying to heart that night. Daddy H. tried to hurry and get back in the house, but not in time. Spike was hit. So Spike did what many of us do when faced with adversity. We RUN!

The problem is he ran right back into the house. Right through the sorted laundry waiting to be washed. So Mommy and Daddy H. had to gather him up and get him out of there pretty fast. They checked outside for the skunk (not to worry, the damage was done, he was half way to Tahiti by that time). So poor old stinky Spike was confined to his outside pen.

The family had to leave the house for the night to let it air out. Laundromats were hit early the next morning to fumigate the clothing Spike had so lovely shared his scent with.

One thing you need to understand is that Spike is a house dog. And for all intents and purposes he thinks he's human except he can't use the inside bathrooms. This is a dog who is never left out for long and is only outside when somebody is home to let him back in.

You can imagine the thoughts going through his mind.

"Hey, you guys! Did somebody forget me?"

"Mom, wait! Where are you going? I still outside."

"I can't believe they left me"

"What will I do if the creature comes pack with his poisonous venom. How will I survive?"

As the night wore on and daylight came, he had to be worried. Mommy was off doing the laundry and buying the supplies needed to wash him squeaky clean. Being his favorite Mamaw, I felt it would be good for him if I went to visit. Boy, I should never have done that.

Have you ever went to visit a grandchild and when it comes time to leave and they don't get to go with you and they turn those sad eyes on you with the pitiful expressions? Well, I am here to tell you that granddogs can do the same thing. He has it down to a fine art. He still stunk to high heaven and I couldn't even pet him because I didn't want the smell on me. I did check to make sure he still had food and water. But the 'poor, pitiful me' look almost did me in.

I got in my car and drove home, wanting to cry for leaving him behind. All's well that ends well. Thanks to peroxide, baking soda, and detergent, Spike is squeaky clean and good smelling.

I'm sure they will all look back and chuckle on this one day - well maybe not Mommy who got stuck with the clean up. Messy diapers and spit up don't look so bad to her now.

Brothers

Many of you have heard me talk about my sister and have seen pictures of us growing up. But it occurred to me that I have not shared pictures of my brothers. I was the second child in a line of four. When I was 2 years and 4 months, Mom brought my brother Jack home from the hospital. I do have early memories of him. I can even describe the way the living room was laid out the day he came home. Mom says I'm right, even though she can't figure out how I knew. We don't have any pictures of the day he came home. But I remember it fondly. Jack and I were very close growing up. Me and Rachel would bribe him to play house with us. Then I would play cars and trucks with him. He taught me how to play marbles, baseball, and kick ball. We had invisible pretend ponies as pets and we would spend literally hours "romping and riding" are horses around the yard and up and down the hills at home.

The year I was turning 10, Mom surprised us with a new addition to the family, my baby brother Andy. We were so excited. Here was our very own baby doll we could help dress and feed. Back then, Mom had a wringer washer and hang clothes on the line. Let me tell you, the joy of playing with our own baby wore off fast when we had to sit on the couch and help fold all those cloth diapers. But we still love our baby brother.

When he was 6 and I was 16, I started taking him with me everywhere I went. It's amazing how easy it was to get the family car when you volunteer to take the baby with you.

When we were young, me and Rachel were the "big" sisters. Something happened along the way. I'm only 5' and Rachel's around 5'2 or 5'3, but both of my brothers are pretty close to 6 feet.

When I go in and see the family and those tall, muscled, good looking men give me a hug, it's hard to believe they are the same little boys I used to love on and play with.