The Art of Sauerkraut

                    Sauerkraut, just packed and ready to work.

The best sauerkraut that I’ve ever eaten was made my Aunt Alta Allen Cantrell. I remember once when my daughter Roxanna was just a child, maybe 5-6 years old, we were enjoying one of the jars of sauerkraut my Aunt Alta had shared with us for our dinner. Roxanna was sitting in her seat at the table and had a chill. She exclaimed, “That sauerkraut is soo good, it sends a shiver up my spine!” That is how good Aunt Alta’s kraut was! 

Aunt Alta was a master at making kraut and as a master, she was rather particular in how she made it. First, she did each step by the “signs”. She planted her cabbage during the right sign. She picked the cabbage to make her kraut during the best sign to make kraut. She went to a special spring to collect enough spring water to make her kraut . And she had the most perfect place to store her kraut in her dark and dank basement. That basement was reached by going outside her house and around to the back where you could go down some rather steep cement steps into a dark and creepy space. There was a hole in the floor in one corner which always seemed to have water in it. I suppose it was a sump pump, but I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of creature probably crawled out of that hole to grab little girls who happened into its lair! 

                   Aunt Alta with a small cabbage from her garden.

                     The low entrance to the basement is on the left,

                                       just below the window. 

Aunt Alta was always kind to share her kraut with those who loved it. She would often send a few jars home with us to Tennessee when we visited with her and she had some. We would almost hoard our jars of kraut. Opening one made it seem a special occasion. I remember after Aunt Alta died, I knew there would be no more of her kraut and I kept the last jar she had given me for quite a while, loathe to see the end of it.

Thankfully, my Mom and Dad make some pretty good kraut too. They also do things by the signs. Their recipe is pretty much Aunt Alta’s recipe. They don’t have a special spring to get water from and any slight inferiority in their kraut is most likely due to that. Or perhaps it is only inferior because I have never heard anyone exclaim, “That sauerkraut is soo good, it sends a shiver up my spine!”

Today was a good kraut day and so I helped Mom and Dad chop cabbage for their kraut. Dad grew the cabbage and we got 22 quarts out of the four heads we chopped. I thought that I would share their recipe for making sauerkraut on our Family Quilt. Many family members over the years have made many a jar of kraut. Some folks might be interested in carrying on the tradition.

Sauerkraut ingredients:
Cabbage
Noniodized salt
Apple cider vinegar
Boiling water
Appropriate number of washed quart jars
Appropriate number of washed and boiled discs and rings for the jars

Remove any damaged outer leaves from the cabbage heads and discard. Wash the cabbage heads and remove a few outer leaves and put aside. Chop the remainder of the cabbage heads into small pieces. We discard the core. 

When you have chopped the amount you want to make, place the chopped cabbage into the jars, packing the cabbage down gently until the jars are half-filled. After the jars are half-filled, place 2 teaspoons of non-iodized salt and 2 tablespoons of apple cider vinegar into each jar. Finish filling the jars with the chopped cabbage to within about an inch from the top of the jar. Fold a piece of the reserved cabbage leaf and place it on top of the chopped cabbage pushing down slightly. Do not pack the cabbage too tightly though. There must be room for the cabbage to “work”. 

Boil enough water to pour over and cover the cabbage in the jars. Run a case knife down along the inside edge of the packed jars to release any excess air in the jars. Place the discs on the jars and put rings tightly on the jars. Store the jars of “kraut” in a cool dark place. Let the kraut “work” for at least three weeks before trying.

         This kraut was made a year or two ago. It has darkened a bit with age. Aunt Alta's kraut seemed to always stay beautifully light.

An Unlikely Wedding

Back in October of 1874, in Harlan County, Kentucky, my 2X great aunt Frances “Fannie” Middleton was born to Benjamin Franklin and Sarah “Sallie” Blevins Middleton.

Benjamin Franklin Middleton

                             Sarah "Sallie" Blevins Middleton


The following year in September, also in Harlan County, my 2nd cousin 3X removed, John David Turner, was born to James “Devil Jim” and Sarah Jones Turner.

Now, Harlan County is on Kentucky’s eastern border with Virginia and is nestled in the mountains of Appalachia. It is a beautifully rugged place and these two relatives were born during a fairly turbulent time just a decade after the Civil War ended. Some Kentuckians had been sympathetic to the cause of the South even though the state had ended up siding with the Union. The War was over, but hard feelings did not vanish at Appomattox.





                              

                                    Harlan County Kentucky


John’s father James had been born in 1837 and even before the Civil War he had had a gang of ruffians who were well-known for carrying out evil deeds. My own 3X Great-grandfather Joseph Nolen had been involved with him early on. After Devil Jim, Joseph and another man were tried for murder and were acquitted because of a savvy attorney, my 3XG grandfather Joseph was said to have been scared straight. Unfortunately, the same was not true for Devil Jim and he continued to wreak havoc and terrorize the area. Feuds were not uncommon in the region and, of course, this made it easier for a ruffian such as Devil Jim to fit right in.

It was during the seemingly lawless times of mayhem during and following the War that Devil Jim and his gang would be responsible for the deaths of three of Fannie’s father’s brothers, two of his brothers-in-laws, and the “crippling” of another brother. The widow of one of the men claimed that Devil Jim had raped his aunt. Possibly, that aunt was Sarah Turner Middleton, the mother of the Middleton men. Ironically, Devil Jim was also the first cousin of the Middleton men but it seems that Devil Jim was an equal opportunity murderer and felt no loyalty to family.

In 1874, Devil Jim was convicted of murder and sent to the Kentucky state penitentiary where he spent several years. He was eventually let out on parole on the condition that he would leave the state. Devil Jim and his son Hiram moved to Washington State sometime around 1890. So Devil Jim’s actual presence had thankfully been absent for some time due to imprisonment and his move out to Washington State. Perhaps he was “out of sight, out of mind”.

Both, Devil Jim’s son John and Fannie Middleton, the niece of so many of his victims, lived in Harlan. They were second cousins and many of the Turners had been upstanding citizens. Both John and Fannie must have visited some of the relatives that they had in common and they may have run into each other at those times. They may have attended the same church services. The population of Harlan was just under 6200 people at that time and it would not be unusual for John and Fannie to meet at some time, especially since they were related.

We know that John and Fannie did meet and they must have been able to see past any hard feelings that could have been caused by past tragedies. In fact, like Romeo and Juliet, past wrongs could not interfere with Cupid’s arrow.

The following information was found in an interview by the Courier-Journal of the couple on February 24, 1963 and was shared with me by a newly "found" cousin. In early March 1893, the couple trekked over fifteen miles across Black Mountain and on to a train station to catch a train to Sewanee, Tennessee to get married there on March 6th. They then retraced their steps to return to Harlan as man and wife.

Initially, the couple lived in a small home that had been constructed by John located on a small piece of land John owned. John worked at logging, did some mining and also farmed his land. Fannie worked the farm also. She told the Courier-Journal interviewer that she had been hoeing corn on the steep hillside and had placed her young daughter Sallie on the ground as she hoed a small distance away. Sallie ended up rolling down the hill. Fannie said that she suffered only scratches and was none the less for wear.

Eventually, the couple was able to acquire more flat land and John could concentrate his time on tending his farm. The couple would go on to have seven children there in Harlan. At some point, the railroad and a highway came through the Turners' farm. Half of their orchard was destroyed in the process. In the Courier-Journal interview, John lamented at seeing the apple trees bearing yet green apples being cut down to the ground to make way for progress.

            John and Fannie Middleton Turner with their children 

Both John and Fannie lost their widowed mothers in 1919, and that coupled with the sadness of seeing their farm "mutilated" must have made a change of scenery desirable.  So, in 1919, the couple moved their family to a farm in Columbia in Adair County, Kentucky. 

                                   Adair County Kentucky

Fannie Middleton Turner and John Turner

from the Courier-Journal article

                 Fannie Middleton Turner and John Turner family
                                  from the Courier-Journal


The couple lived there in Columbia until their deaths. It is there, while anticipating their upcoming 70th wedding anniversary, that the Courier-Journal would interview them. John would die three years later at the age of 90 in 1966 and Fannie would die in 1968 at the age of 93. They were buried there at Columbia Cemetery after living long, difficult but hopefully happy lives; in spite of what must have seemed an unlikely wedding.



                                                 

Multiple Heartbreaks

I was born and spent my first eight years in Dayton, Ohio. Both my mother and my father had been born in eastern Kentucky but had ended up in Dayton where my brother and I were born. I had several other Kentucky kinfolk around me; many of them had moved out of rural Kentucky to Dayton to find work.

So my family lived there in Dayton but Dad’s parents still lived on Anglin Branch in Owsley County, Kentucky. As often as possible, my parents would load my brother and I into the car and we would go down to Kentucky to visit Grandpa and Grandma.

Those visits were like adventures to my brother and I. Going to visit them was like we were traveling back in time. Grandma and Grandpa had electricity, but they didn’t have indoor facilities. There was a faucet at a kitchen sink, but that water was used for washing dishes. Grandma drew crisp clear water from a well just off of the back porch to drink and cook with. She poured it into a metal bucket that held a communal dipper and everyone drank from that dipper.

Bathing usually entailed a sponge bath from a metal dishpan filled with warm water, a washcloth, and a bar of soap. I remember that they used Camay soap and there was a little cameo embossed into the bar. The big washtub would have to be pulled out into the middle of the kitchen floor and filled with warm water if the sponge bath wasn’t enough.

You had to walk down the lane to the outhouse to take care of your business. There an old Sears and Roebuck catalog replaced Charmin. At night, when it was dark and no telling what critters you might run into along the path to the outhouse, a large empty metal lard stand could be slid from beneath the metal springs of the bedstead. I can close my eyes and almost hear the music of pee hitting the bottom of that tin. The strangest things can trigger the sweetest of memories!

Grandpa and Grandma raised pretty much what they needed to survive. They had a big garden, they raised chickens for meat and eggs, they had a cow for dairy products, hogs for pork, fruit and nut trees, and a mule to help plow the garden. From these sources they didn’t just survive, they thrived on food that they raised and prepared with their own hands.

 

For years, really up until about ten or so years ago, I knew that my dad had three brothers and three sisters. I had grown up knowing those aunts and uncles and their families. I never knew that Grandma and Grandpa had had four other babies who had died before they were even a year old.

Their firstborn had not been my Uncle Dale as I had thought, but a baby boy that they had named Paul. Paul had lived not even two months. He left little mark in this world, save a certificate in a record keeper’s drawer, a name carved on a small stone, and a hole in his parents’ hearts. He was Grandpa and Grandma’s first baby and I cannot imagination the pain that they must have felt when the joyful anticipation of their first child’s birth was replaced by the gut-wrenching sorrow of his loss.

 
                                                      

In 1923, less than a year after the loss of Paul, Grandma and Grandpa had another son, my Uncle Dale. Their third born son followed in 1925 and like Paul, he lived less than two months. He left a record of birth, a record of death coldly stating that he had been “found dead in bed”, and another small stone with his name etched upon it. He also left tears running down the cheeks of his parents. Even that carved name, Glen Smith, would not survive. Thoughtless young boys with slingshots would erase his name with their stones. 

Glen’s birth and death were followed by the births of my Aunt Hortense, Aunt Carmen, Aunt Davilee, and Uncle Wallace. They, like Uncle Dale would live to have families of their own, cousins who I would grow up knowing.

Their eighth child was born in 1936 and was a little girl. I don’t know how long she lived as I have found no death certificate. She left a record of birth, her name Wanda Smith carved in stone, broken hearts and vague memories in the minds of older siblings. Her stone, as did that of her brother Glen, became a target for slingshot wielding boys. It no longer serves as proof that she did indeed pass through this world. 

My father was the ninth child of Grandpa and Grandma and was born in 1937. Their tenth child was a baby girl named Janie Joyce, born in 1940. She lived nearly ten months and left more records in a drawer and another stone carved with her name. I was excited when I found her on the 1940 census; she wasn’t here long, but the world has a record that she once lived! And because she lived for nearly ten months, she left more memories to impress themselves upon the minds of older siblings, and more broken hearts 

Grandpa and Grandma’s last child was my Uncle Gayle and he was born in 1944. His family would live with Grandpa and Grandma for a while so I would see them whenever we visited. My cousins, my brother, and I would catch crawdaddies in the creek during the day and lightning bugs from the yard at night.

And up until just a few years ago, I never knew about the heartache that Grandpa and Grandma had known. Since finding out, I’ve heard of how Nancy would ride a mule to the home of her mother Rhoda every Sunday. She would walk up to the little graveyard on the hill behind Rhoda’s house where her babies were buried. Perhaps she found some kind of solace in visiting, in remembering that these babes did indeed pass through this world. They were here so briefly that those graves may have served as proof that they were not just dreams.

I never knew about these babes when as a child I visited my grandparents, Dave and Nancy Middleton Smith. Knowing about them now makes me tear at the thought of the sorrow these gentle folks had to bear. And I am revisited by a memory of my grandma making butter by rocking a gallon jar filled with cream over her knee. I wonder if while rocking that jar, she didn’t think about those four babes she had rocked so briefly all those years before.

Larger than Life

                                     Harlan County, Kentucky


My great-grandpa Calvin James Middleton was born on February 14, 1875, in rugged Harlan County, Kentucky. He was born to Benjamin Franklin and Sarah “Sallie” Blevins Middleton. His father Benjamin had fought for the Confederacy during the Civil War and according to his widow when filing for his Civil War pension, he had been at Appomattox Court House when the war closed.                                               

Benjamin Franklin Middleton

  

                             Sarah "Sallie" Blevins Middleton

Calvin was born in a wild mountain area a few years after the close of the war, but the war had left lingering resentments. Blood feuds to rival the famous Hatfield and McCoy feud were not an uncommon occurrence. Three of the brothers of Calvin’s father had been killed, one had been left “crippled” and two of his brother-in-laws had been shot down dead in the Howard-Turner feud. Calvin was born in an untamed area during untamed times and he seemed untamed enough himself to fit right in. 

                                    Harlan County, Kentucky

In 1895, Calvin would wed another Harlan County native, Rhoda King, at the home of her parents. The couple lived there in Harlan County for several years and all of their children, save their last, was born there.

Now, Calvin and Rhoda lived and farmed land on Yocum Creek in Harlan while raising a family of seven young’uns. That was no easy way of life, but it was the way of life that most of the folks Calvin and Rhoda knew experienced. It was just to be expected.

                            Calvin and Rhoda King Middleton 

                                 and some of their children

Calvin’s occupation was listed as farmer on all of the censuses I have seen, but family members and folks in the area say that he was also a Baptist preacher. He did not have his own church, rather he traveled a circuit. One Sunday, he would preach in one church. The next Sunday, he would travel to a different church. He would make the rounds of the churches he preached at and when a round was completed, he would start all over. One of his granddaughters, Ms. Leola, says that often during the week, he would travel to places and hold revivals. She says that he could be gone quite long for his preaching at his revivals. 

Calvin Middleton

Calvin did not make a living or any money from his preaching. A thankful family might let him stay in their home while he was riding the circuit. A family might invite him to their home for a meal. They might offer him a jar of their family’s special preserves or apple butter. Calvin might be given a still wearable pair of britches that the family’s kids had outgrown but that might fit one of Calvin’s young’uns.                            

                                          Calvin Middleton


Now, Ms. Leola, my dad, his grandson, and other family members have told me that Calvin had another side occupation. They tell me that when the local law was, according to what they have heard, too chicken to go after a fugitive themselves, they would call on Calvin. They would deputize him and then Calvin would go off after the fugitive.

Now, Calvin would return sometime later with the fugitive. Hopefully, the fugitive would be able to walk into the jail on his own two feet. Unfortunately, at times, he would have to be carried into the local undertaker’s place. I am certain that Calvin tried his best to bring back the fugitive alive, but sometimes the fugitive would just not cooperate.

Now, Calvin had helped the local law apprehend fleeing fugitives many times and back in this time period, Harlan could be a pretty rowdy place. Most folks had guns, they knew how to use them, and they were not loathe to do so. Calvin’s family and friends began to fear for the safety of Calvin and his family. Several folks recommended to him that he move away from Harlan for his family’s safety.

Sometime after 1918 and before 1920, Calvin’s family moved west to Clay County, Kentucky. They lived in Clay, but were very close to the Owsley County border. It is here that Rhoda and Calvin would have their last child, a daughter Fern. Sometime later when Fern was growing up, Calvin and Rhoda would separate. No one is for certain why, but Ms. Leola thought that perhaps Rhoda was a little less strict with Fern than Calvin thought they needed to be. That is a guess though and no one really knows. 

                             Calvin and Rhoda King Middleton

Ms. Leola says that Calvin would return to Harlan several times over the years after their move. He still had family in the area and I imagine that he was probably preaching, holding revivals or perhaps he was even being deputized still. She says that he could be gone for several days.

                                Two of Calvin's sisters in front;
                           his brother-in-law and Calvin in back

Calvin did not tolerate orneriness in his new home any better than he had back in Harlan. Ms. Leola remembers that there was a church in the area that was pretty much being ruined by a bunch of ruffians. She says that a Sheriff Brewer was even shot through the church window while attending the church.

Calvin decided that this was just not acceptable. He went to the church and told them that he was gonna take up the preaching. He told them that he would be preaching and he told them that if anything bad happened, the law was not gonna be called. He told them that he, himself would take care of it.

His reputation must have preceded him. Calvin preached the service the next Sunday and his Ms. Leola was told that you could have heard a pin drop. It seems that the ruffians may have been scared straight and the church knew peace again.

Sometime after all of this happened, Ms Leola, who had just married, heard her husband talking to one of his cousins. Her husband’s cousin was from Harlan and was talking about some mean old preacher man who had killed several people in the line of duty while deputized.

Her husband asked if this mean old preacher man’s name was Calvin Middleton and his cousin told him that it was. He laughed and told his cousin that Calvin’s granddaughter was his new wife! Well, talk of the mean old preacher man ceased. I do not know if that was out of respect for his granddaughter or due to the fact that the cousin could not be sure how far the apple had fallen from the tree!

Now, most of the info that I have about my great grandfather was relayed to me by his granddaughter, Ms. Leola. Ms. Leola loved and admired Calvin so very much. She has told me that she reckons that she has never known a person as smart as Pap. She tells me that he would make up stories and even poems. 

                      Calvin Middleton and his brother-in-law

Ms. Leola has told me that sometimes Calvin would be sitting very quietly for some minutes. After a while, he would throw his head back in laughter. Ms. Leola would say; “Pap, what you laughing at?” He would answer that he was working on something and he would tell her when it was finished. After a while, he would tell her that he was finished and recite off a poem that he had just made up. She still recalls parts of those poems. Unfortunately, he didn’t write them down. He just recited them to her so she relies on her memory to relay the parts she recalls.

Sometime in the past, Ms. Leola had written my dad a letter in which she had tried to remember some of Calvin’s poems and wrote them down. She could not remember all of them. She told Dad that maybe he could make something up and finish them out. Well, Dad didn’t do that, so I decided that I would give it a shot. I told Ms Leola that I remember several years back Natalie Cole did a duet with her father Nat King Cole after he had already passed on. Older recordings were combined with newer recordings to look like it was real. Ms. Leola remembered that too. She also mentioned that Hank Williams Junior had done something similar with a Hank Williams recording.

So this is my family’s own collaboration between the past, my great-grandpa Calvin’s words, and the present, my words that fill in for his words that have been forgotten. It concerns a ruckus that took place at the Anglin Church house. It seems that a rumor had gotten started. Great-grandpa Calvin Middleton supposedly had said something to a Preacher Sasser concerning a Bass Huff and perhaps somehow involving tithing. Bass Huff was the preacher at Anglin church. Preacher Sasser was from another church nearby.

Well, Preacher Bass got mad at Brother Middleton. The congregation scheduled a special meeting at the church house to clear everything up. Preacher Sasser came to the meeting to tell that Calvin had not said any such thing to him. Ms. Leola says that Preacher Bass had wanted to get rid of Calvin from the congregation, but Preacher Huff ended up losing his job over the ruckus. Myrtle was Preacher Huff's wife.

Ms Leola could not remember the first part of Calvin’s poem, so I tried to finesse the details into a poem of sorts. It is followed by the part Pap wrote that Ms. Leola can recall.

My part:

Like so often happens, the ruckus started in a "he said/she said" kind of way.
It remained to be seen, whether the truth would know the light of day.
Well, Brother Calvin had supposedly told Preacher Sasser something concernin’ Preacher Huff.
Preacher Huff didn’t take it lightly, in fact, he took it kinda rough.
But Brother Calvin leavin’ the congregation might appease him just enough,
‘Cause you see, it seems that the preacher had worked himself into quite a huff!
Well, to clear the confusion, a meetin’ was called at Anglin Church.
Hopefully, when the dust cleared, no one would be left standin’ in the lurch.
Folks went to the meetin’; Preacher Sasser, Brother Calvin, Columbus his son,
Hugh Edwards, Doc Byrd, Brother Bass Huff; arrivin’ one by one.
Anticipatin’ trouble, Calvin carried a half-empty pint bottle in his pocket.
If it got too heated, that bottle could whip out and tap a noggin quick as a rocket!
Calvin’s son Fred rode a horse to a neighbor’s house also expectin’ trouble.
He borrowed himself a pistol and returned to the church house on the double!
As Fred arrived, he passed Hortense Smith and a couple of her friends outside.
He shouted, “Wanna see the roof blown off the church house?” as he brandished his pistol atop his ride!
Hortense fainted straight away, witherin’ to the ground,
As outside the church house her friends gathered ‘round.
Meanwhile inside the church house, tensions were growin’ pretty thick.
Brother Edwards looked like he might hit Calv, but Calv’s bottle was ready should he need it quick!
And Brother Bass jumped to the pulpit, pullin’ out a blade;
Well, Columbus strode toward the pulpit pullin’ out a Bowie, and Bass’ bluster sure did fade!
Huff said hang on Brother Columbus, I’m just gonna cut me a chew.
Columbus stared at him coldly, sayin’ “ Brother Bass, I chew tobacco too!”
Well I suppose that Preacher Sasser was finally given a chance to talk. And when the dust finally settled, Calvin would stay. Huff would be the one to walk! Ashamed to take the main road................

Calvin’s part:
Bass Huff slipped up through the cornfield til he got to the Anglin hill.
He said I wouldn’t had this to die in my hands for a hundred dollar bill.
He went on over to Myrtle’s house. She said Bass, what’s this about?
He said I told every lie I could tell, but I didn’t get Middleton out.
Myrtle said Bass I asked you not to go over there and I wrote it on the wall.
Our free will offerin will be cut out, and the calf is sure to bawl. 

                            Inside the Anglin Meeting House

                   Son Columbus, daughter Fern, Rhoda and Calvin

Ms. Leola speaks so glowingly of Calvin that I have often wondered if there was a bit of hero worship going on that was making her memories of Pap a bit larger than life. I recorded all of her memories to share with my family, just the same, but I couldn’t help but wonder if her deep admiration for Pap was making him into a kind of heroic family legend.

I used to wonder about this, but one of my cousins shared with me a description of a trial that involved Great Grandpa Calvin. It follows: 

“Calvin Middleton Trial Date:14-15 May 1897 Hon. H.R. Thompson, Circuit Judge Harlan County, Kentucky On the 14th day of May 1897 Calvin Middleton of Harlan County, Kentucky was called to testify in the matter of the shooting of Ronald Haas. Mr Middleton was not placed under arrest because of the number of witnesses who stated that Mr Middleton had acted in self-defense. There are several references to Calvin Middleton being called on by Sheriff Peters of Harlan County, Kentucky to go with him in times of trouble. Calvin Middleton was called on to give testimony on several occasions during these events. On or about the 2nd day of May, Sheriff Peters found Calvin Middleton in the area of Turner Creek just east of Dizney, Ky. He told Calvin that his cousin had been murdered by Ronald Haas and that Mr Haas had boarded the train in an attempt to make an excape. He asked Calvin to ride by horseback and try to beat the train to the town of Dizney and detain Mr Haas. Sheriff Peters would gather a posse and be behind him. Calvin Middleton and two other men rode along the Yocum Creek and beat the train arriving in Dizney. Calvin Middleton boarded the train and Mr Haas was sitting beside another man. Mr Haas saw Mr Middleton and drew a pistol and dove to the floor. Mr Middleton took cover behind a seat and told Mr Haas to surrender. Mr Haas fired one shot and stood up and ran to the back of the car, exiting. Calvin testified that he didn't return fire for fear of hitting other people riding in the car, Mr Middleton then exited at the end of the car where he had entered and chased Mr Haas to the east. Mr Middleton called several times for Mr Haas to stop and give himself up. Seven people testified that Mr Haas then turned towards Mr Middleton and raised his weapon. Mr Middleton called “Don't do it!” and as Mr Haas raised his weapon to fire, Mr Middleton shot him once in the upper left chest. Mr Haas fell to the ground, pistol still in hand. Mr Middleton walked closer and Mr Haas once again raised his weapon. Mr Middleton fired again, this time striking Mr Haas in the head, killing him instantly. Two witnesses attempted to say that Mr Middleton did not call for Mr Haas to stop and shot the fleeing Mr Haas in the back. A physician's examination clearly shows that Mr Haas was shot from the front. As the judge said in court, the two men claiming this were of “questionable moral character.” Calvin Middleton was cleared on all charges and it was judged that he acted in self defense.”


So, after reading this description, I have decided that perhaps Great Grandpa Calvin may have truly been a bit of a family legend. After all, not many families can lay claim to a poetic, bring’em back dead or alive, mean preacher man!

                                           Calvin Middleton

What Is a Porch?

What is a porch? A porch is a passageway between inside and outside; a kind of middle ground.

A porch can be a grand expanse of wooden planks or a small slab of concrete. It can be covered by a roof of shingles or tin or open to the skies. A porch might be screened in or open to allow the mosquito to buzz around your ear. 

A porch can be a place to seek solitude when a heart is breaking and tears steal down cheeks taking a bit of the pain with them. That pain can be left on the porch alongside umbrellas and muddy shoes.

A porch can be a place to seek company, the company of family and neighbors; a place to hear elders share memories; a place for children to make memories; a place to hear stories of the past while making memories of today and dreaming of tomorrow. 

A porch is just a structure between inside and outside; but a porch can be a passageway in the middle of the past and the present, the present and the future. A porch is a passageway in the middle of reality and magic.

Here are a few of my porch memories.

When I was a child, we spent much of our time outside when the weather permitted. We had no air conditioning so even in the high heat of summer, outside under a shade tree or under the porch roof where any breeze that might stir was better than being inside; especially when any cooking was going on, which it usually was!

I recall sitting on Grandpa and Grandma Smith’s porch in rural Kentucky. I recall feeling like such a big shot when I was given a string with a needle on it to make green bean necklaces with Grandma and Mom. Those necklaces would go up into the attic to dry and sometime later a mess of shuck beans could be enjoyed. Of course, we strung and broke many a wash pan full of beans to can too, but I loved making necklaces! 

I would often sit on the front porch with my grandpa who loved to whittle. He didn’t carve anything into his wood. He just took bigger sticks of cedar and shaved delicate curls away until he had little more than a toothpick. I reckon that he was just so used to doing something that even in his relaxing time his hands had to be busy. 

Grandma would often take her gallon jar filled with cream out on the front porch to sit. There, she would rock that jug over her knee and make magic...some folks call it butter! I reckon that she wasn’t used to idleness either because even in her relaxing time she would make butter or have a lapful of apples to pare or taters to peel.

Grandpa and Grandma’s porch had a tin roof and I loved nothing better than to sit under it during a cooling rain and listen to the music the rain played on the tin. It was after such a rain when mist was hanging over the hills in front of the house that Grandpa told me about his giant friend. He told me that his friend lived up in the hills and when I saw that mist, his giant friend was sitting on his front porch too smoking his pipe. I cannot see “smoke” in the mountains without remembering Grandpa and his giant.

Another porch that I loved to sit on was on the outskirts of Dayton, Ohio and it was on the home of my great-uncle and great-aunt who raised my mom and her youngest brother from when they were children. They were like grandparents to me. 

I recall breaking beans and making green bean necklaces on that porch too but there were other memories also, especially of summer. In the summer, I can recall sitting on that porch waiting for Granny, my great-grandmother who lived with my aunt and uncle, to slice into a big juicy watermelon. Everyone waited in anticipation as Granny’s big butcher knife plunged into that melon. She sliced off pieces handing them out to greedy, eager little hands. Those hands, arms, chins would soon be dripping with juice from the sweetest, tastiest melons I can remember eating! There were plenty of seeds in those melons and we might have a contest to see who could spit them the farthest.

I can also remember waiting in the high heat of summer on that porch for my uncle or some grown-up to return from the root-beer stand up the street with a gallon of cold, sweet root beer. We would all eagerly take our glass and savor each cold, sweet drop.

It was also on that porch while sitting in the porch swing that my cousin and I would argue about who Granny “belonged” to more. My cousin was ten years older than me and she had almost “adopted” me. She would walk a block to our house to pick me up and take me to my aunt and uncle’s house and to Granny all of the time.

Well, she told me that she was closer to Granny because Granny was her grandmother but she was my great-grandmother. I was having none of that. I told her that that must mean that she was just Granny’s granddaughter, but I was her GREAT granddaughter! Everyone knows that great is better than just the usual! 

Now, I don’t have a front porch but I have a back deck. There is a road behind our house and a row of homes across from it. There is also a home to the left of ours but we are at an intersection with a bit of common ground to either side of our house. Our back yard and the common areas are full of trees. In the summer, when the trees are full, I can sit at the table on the deck, look out and imagine that I am in the mountains. There I can hold my little granddaughter Jooniebug in my lap. I can tell her how lovely the sound of rain was on the tin roof of her great-great-grandparents’ home. I can tell her about Great-great-Grandpa’s giant that lives in the hills of Kentucky. I can tell her about waiting for her great-great-great granny to slice open a watermelon on a porch in Ohio. 

So, there are a few porch memories from porches in very different settings. One was in the middle of the country snuggled in hills with a dirt road that snaked a few hundred yards in front of it. You could rarely hear a car coming up that road and you couldn’t see your neighbors.

Another was on the outskirts of Dayton, Ohio where cars drove a few yards in front of you on a regular basis. You could see houses in every direction.

And my deck is on the outskirts of Nashville, Tennessee with houses and cars all around, but fortunately, the trees can let you imagine that you are in the mountains.

I reckon that the porches were different, but what made them the same is the folks that congregated on those porches. They were all simple mountain folks who surely knew how to enjoy the simple things in life; and above all, they knew how to love!