February 28th, 1921

Julie Catherine, Wendy Jean and Gran

On the Front Porch

August 1972

     My grandfather, LJ Hurst, was born on February 28th, 1921.  Like all of us, he was many different things to many different people.  He was, for me, about as perfect a grandparent that anyone could have.  I have many wonderful memories of spending time with him doing ordinary everyday things - sitting on the front porch counting the seconds between hearing a thunder clap and seeing the lightening flash, eating lunch at Wendy's, riding in his red GMC truck through the Western Avenue Farmer's Market, and mowing the fields on his giant orange tractor. I can still hear the sound of his shoes hitting the wooden floors when he walked through the house.  I loved that sound and for whatever reason it was one of the things I missed most after he died. He was not a flashy grandparent who showed up with presents or handed out dollar bills every time you saw him but he was there, he was always there.

That Goes With The Hurst Name

       The most notable thing that I remember about my Aunt Jessie is that she made delicious candy.  Every Christmas Day she would arrive with a plate of peanut butter pinwheels and chocolate covered cherries.  I also remember that she was very tall, always wore dresses with beautiful brooches and that she never had much to say.  I know now she wasn't shy but that it's the "Hurst way" to be aloof in a gathering of more than two or three people, they are well known for it.  In her letters to my grandfather, however, there is a side of Aunt Jessie that I never saw.  She was lively and funny.   I wish I had known her long enough or well enough to have found that out in person. 

      In a letter she sent to my grandfather in July 1944 (shortly after he was "drafted" into the army) she asks him how he likes being in the service - "Yeah, I can just imagine how you like to wear that tie and keep your shoes shined, that goes with the Hurst name, all the Hursts I ever knew liked to dress up and wear a tie."  That could be the Hurst family motto. Well said, Aunt Jessie. 

Conjugate That

     This photo of  my grandmother, Cleo Hurst, was taken around 1940.  One of the many things I loved about talking with her was her use of unusual words and phrases in everyday conversation. The word sanko was one of my favorites.  For example, if she saw a cat walking in the yard she might say "look at that old cat just sankoin down the yard."  For a long time I've wondered where the word came from but wasn't sure where to go to find out.  And then one day last week I decided to Google it and would you believe it?  I found a definition because Google apparently has an answer for everything.

   According to Google and The Dictionary of American Regional English (p.471), the word sanko seems to be one of those words created by the mountaineer for his own purpose. It means loafing, loitering,sashaying, or hanging around. Sanko is a verb, often used in conjunction with along, around, down. "Sankoing around." Also sango, sanker, sankly.  Used chiefly in the Appalachians and the Ozarks.

Dear Valentine

     Cards my mother and aunt mailed to their dad for Valentine's Day in 1945.  He was in a hospital in England recovering from wounds he received in Belgium during the Battle of the Bulge.  Unfortunately, he didn't receive these cards until he returned to the states much later that year.  His mail was held and delivered to him after he arrived at Newton D. Baker General Hospital in Martinsburg, West Virginia. 

     A Google search of  "Newton D. Baker General Hospital" found the post card pictured on the left.  According to the West Virginia Historical Monument website, the Newton D. Baker General Hospital was a US Army facility opened for patients in 1944 and turned into the Veterans Administration Center in 1946.

"You Don't Say"

Sarah Adeline Bowman Malone

June 16, 1887 - March 5, 1941

     I have it on good authority that my grandmother wasn't thrilled when my parents decided to name me Julie.  My cousin, David, had arrived only a week before me and as the story goes my Grandma said  "David and Julie . . .why did you pick those names? Sounds like the Nixon children." I think that in time she grew to accept my name, maybe.  She did call me Brenda about half the time - never Norma or Cathy - it was always Brenda. Maybe she never warmed up to my name after all.

     When Joel and I were expecting our first child we spent a lot of time considering names.  It was Joel who came up with the name Owen and I loved it immediately.  Once Owen was born it seemed to fit him perfectly too.  What did Grandma say about his name?  "Owen.  Now, how come you picked the name Owen?  You know, I once knew a six fingered man named Owen."  In all fairness the man had four fingers and two thumbs on one hand but she'd made her point, she wouldn't have named any child Owen. 

    And then there was Sarah.  Way back in my early twenties I wrote in my journal that someday I wanted to have a dark-haired dark-eyed little girl and I wanted to name her Sarah.  I have always loved the name Sarah*. And what did Grandma have to say about my daughter's name? "Sarah . . . you don't say. Well, you know I like the name Sarah."  Sarah was her mother's name (Sarah Adeline Bowman) and it was the name she gave her second daughter (Sarah Catherine).  I had picked a winner.

*Joel and I both love the name "Catherine" but we knew from the night we saw "Kiss Me Kate" at the Shakespeare Festival in the summer of 1993  that we couldn't name a daughter Catherine because he wanted to spell it with a "K" and call her "Kate."  My middle name is Catherine with a "C".  Some divides are just too great.

Bluecoat

"John Bowman, farmer and stock dealer, was born in Claiborne County July 21, 1829 the son of William and Mary (Beeler) Bowman, the former born in Virginia, and died in Claiborne County in 1849. William Bowman was a child when they came to Tennessee, at that time a territory, and served as sheriff of Claiborne County several years. The mother, also of Virginia, died in Claiborne County about 1839, and our subject is the fourth of her seven children. Mr. Bowman was fairly educated, and after his father’s death farmed the homestead, and then, a year later, bought land in the First District, where he spent nine years. In 1867 he bought his present land. He joined Company C, First Federal Tennessee Infantry, August 9, 1861, and served in the Georgia campaign, and various other places. Martha C., a daughter of William Dunn, became his wife in 1865, and died in 1881. Of three sons and two daughters born to them, two sons and one daughter are living. In 1883 he married Rhoda J., a daughter of David Anderson, who bore him two daughters. He was a magistrate several years, in both Claiborne and Union Counties, and in 1879 became trustee of this county for three terms. He is a Methodist, and his wife a Missionary Baptist. He is a Republican."

Excerpt from "The History of Tennessee" published by Goodspeed Publishing Company in 1887.
John Bowman is my great-great-grandfather.

My Memories Are Worn

     I discovered the music of John Prine when I was in college.  My mother was teaching Interior Design in Morehead, Kentucky and I found a tape in the campus bookstore on one of my many trips to see her.  My favorite of his songs is Grandpa Was A Carpenter but the song Paradise stuck with me too.  There's a line in the song -  "and there's a backward old town that's often remembered so many times that my memories are worn."  That part of the song has been running through my head for days, so much so that I finally had to go to i-tunes and download it.  I wore the original tape out listening to it over and over as I drove from Knoxville to Kentucky and back home again.

Paradise
by John Prine

When I was a child my family would travel
Down to Western Kentucky where my parents were born
And there's a backwards old town that's often remembered
So many times that my memories are worn.

And daddy won't you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I'm sorry my son, but you're too late in asking
Mister Peabody's coal train has hauled it away

Well, sometimes we'd travel right down the Green River
To the abandoned old prison down by Adrie Hill
Where the air smelled like snakes and we'd shoot with our pistols
But empty pop bottles was all we would kill.
Chorus

Then the coal company came with the world's largest shovel
And they tortured the timber and stripped all the land
Well, they dug for their coal till the land was forsaken
Then they wrote it all down as the progress of man.
Chorus

When I die let my ashes float down the Green River
Let my soul roll on up to the Rochester dam
I'll be halfway to Heaven with Paradise waitin'
Just five miles away from wherever I am.
Chorus