Dreams of a Get-Together

                               Narm and Mandy Moore Allen
                                    holding baby Esther Allen

Esther Allen was born on October 18, 1913 in Clay County, Kentucky. I believe that she was born at the Allen home place on Teges Creek which was named for her Great-great-Grandpa Adoniram “Tedious/Teges” Allen. She was the first child born to Adoniram “Narm” and Mandy Moore Allen.

Esther was born in the fall in the hills of Eastern Kentucky. Her newborn eyes must have been greeted by the loveliness of trees changing from their summer frocks into the scarlet, gold, orange and umber shades of autumn. There was probably a calming sense of slowing down in the air. Many of the summer chores would have been completed for the most part. Shocks of corn may have stood in the field, a visible remnant of the busyness of summer. Oh, her parents would still have had many, many chores to do, but fall seems like a quieter time and the new parents may have had a bit more time to marvel over the perfection of their first baby.

Esther would spend her childhood and on into her twenties there on Teges Creek. She would be joined by a younger brother and three younger sisters in the coming years. She would experience the loss of two grandmothers, her father and Fanny, her youngest sibling there.

     Mandy Moore Allen, Rachel Allen, Nancy Jane Baker Allen, 

               John Allen and Narm Allen, Esther Allen in back

Life on Teges would have been difficult. The family survived by farming their small piece of land and it must have seemed that the list of chores to do was unending. Those chores were not just done by the adults. The children would also have to perform chores appropriate for their ages and their list would increase as they grew older.

The garden spot had to be prepared for planting. Narm would have likely done this with a mule pulling a plow. If a mule and plow were unavailable, the family would have had to scratch up the earth with hand tools.

After the garden spot was worked up, the seeds would have to be planted and they would need to plant a lot to feed the seven family members as well as the animals. They would have to grow enough, not just for now, but for the lean times of winter and early spring. Many of the seeds were likely carefully saved from last year’s crop. The family would have grown corn, beans, potatoes, onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbages, lettuce, peas…

After the plants started growing, the family would have had to spend hours hoeing out the weeds so their crops could not be smothered. This likely seemed like an unending chore in and of itself without even considering other chores. Every row must have seemed to be a long row to hoe for Esther and her siblings; especially when a creek with minnows and crawdads was nearby just begging to be waded.

Finally, after the crops had come in, they would have to be harvested. Some of the harvest would be used to feed the family at the time, but the rest would have to be preserved. Green beans might have been dried to make shuck beans or canned. Tomatoes would have been canned. Corn could have been dried and ground into meal. Corn could be canned or could be made into hominy. Pumpkins and cushaws could be canned or dried for later use. Potatoes, cabbages, apples, and other vegetables could be kept for extended periods in a root cellar or a hole dug into the ground and lined with straw. Produce was pickled; cucumbers, corn, green beans. Cabbage was chopped and made into sauerkraut. Raising and preserving the produce would have been time-consuming and necessary chores.

The family raised animals also: a cow for milk; chickens for eggs and meat; hogs for pork; probably a mule for transportation and help on the farm. Those animals had to be cared for. They had to be fed, eggs gathered, cows milked… In the winter, they would have to make sure to chop a hole in the frozen creek so the animals could drink water.

When the hogs were big enough and the weather cooler, the family would have to slaughter them. The carcass would have to be processed. The family did not have modern refrigeration so they had to keep the meat in other ways. Some of the cuts such as the bacon, ham and shoulders could be smoke-cured or salt or sugar-cured. Other cuts would be ground into sausage and the women would make them into sausage balls, fry them and then put them into jars covered with the grease to preserve for later use. The fat would be rendered into lard and later it might be made into bars of lye soap.

The family would have fruit and nut trees and the fruits from these trees would be harvested and preserved also. The surrounding environment would provide other sustenance for the family: berries; spring greens; medicinal herbs, roots, and barks; wildlife such as squirrels and rabbits to hunt for food.

The family had other chores also. Sacks that animal feed and flour had come in were repurposed into shirts, dresses, aprons… When those items became worn and unmendable, they would be repurposed yet again into quilts to keep the family warm in winter.

Wood had to be chopped, hauled and stacked for the family’s cooking, clothes washing, canning and heating. Every member of the family participated in these chores as to their abilities. Everyone in the family was a “Honey” and everyone had a “Honey do list’ and those chores were non-negotiable as the family’s survival depended upon them.

Esther’s dad Narm died from tuberculosis in 1927 and was buried in nearby Upper Sadler Cemetery on Esther’s mother’s birthday. Two years later, 16-year-old Esther would be the informant for little Fannie’s death from infantile paralysis. She would be buried in Upper Sadler Cemetery also.

                     John Allen and Mandy Moore Allen in front;
                  Rachel Allen, Alta Allen and Esther Allen in back

Mandy began to take in laundry to make a bit of spending money for the family after Narm’s death. Doing laundry back in those times was a difficult chore. I am sure that all of the kids would pitch in to help their mother out with this back-breaking work.

Esther and her younger siblings had non-negotiable chores, but they would have had had some downtime to visit with family and neighbors. I have been told that the family had a battery-operated radio after they became popular and somewhat affordable. Neighbors would come over and they would all listen to the Grand Ole Opry, serials, and the news together.

There was time to make eyes at the cute boy from the next holler over at Sunday go to meeting. There was time to play stickball with the siblings and the neighborhood kids. Many of the neighbors were kinfolk of one kind or another. Those that weren’t related by blood became family by shared experiences. They were a tight-knit community. Neighbors Spurgeon and Emma Murrell would become lifetime close friends to the family over multiple generations.

Esther and her family would likely not be much affected by the Great Depression. They grew much of their sustenance and had little need for much money. Oh, they likely noticed the Depression when coffee and sugar were rationed because those were among the few things that the family could not raise themselves. They would not know the hunger that many folks who lived in cities and could not farm would know.

The Depression did bring about public work programs designed to put unemployed people into jobs for the public good. Esther’s brother John would work in the CCC. He would work on building roads in eastern Kentucky and part of his wages would be sent back to the family to help provide for their needs. Sister Rachel also did some kind of public work although we have no idea of what that would have been.

                          Esther Allen, ??, ??, and Rachel Allen;
                           Mandy Moore Allen in background

In early 1940, Brother John would join the army and would live on a base in Arapahoe, Colorado. The United States had managed to stay out of WWII but after Pearl Harbor in 1941, the US would enter the fray and John would go overseas to fight.

                          Alta Allen, John Allen and Esther Allen

Esther’s sister Rachel would marry Boyd Nolen in 1940. Boyd’s family lived over the hill on Furnace Branch and Rachel would move out of the Allen home and move there. Esther, her mother, and younger sister Alta would remain together there on Teges. The families were just a mule-ride over the ridge apart so they would still see each other often. I am sure that Esther, Mandy, Alta, and Rachel likely wore a path across that hill.

                                 Esther Allen in front; ??, ??,
                                   Rachel Allen Nolen in rear

Rachel and Boyd had their first child, a daughter Loretta in 1941. They would go on to have nine babies in ten years of marriage. Mandy would have several grandbabies and Esther and Alta would have nieces and nephews. I have heard that Esther loved children and loved to dote on her nieces and nephews as well as other neighborhood children.

                    Rachel's children, Esther's nieces and nephews


Sometime in the early to mid-'40s, Esther and Alta would move to Dayton, Ohio in search of work. I am sure that the young girls enjoyed the opportunity to meet new folks and there would be more avenues of entertainment including shopping. Emma Murrell’s daughter Vivian has told me that Esther was always very neatly put together. Her clothes were always clean and neat, her hair was always brushed so nicely and she wore a bit of makeup. I am sure that Esther enjoyed having access to more money for more fashionable clothing and makeup.

                         Esther Allen, a friend, and Alta Allen;
                              The back of this photo said "Three
                                 of the Meanest Girls in Dayton."

Esther’s sister Alta would meet her future husband Olen “Bug” Cantrell, possibly at work and they would marry in 1945. Brother John would be discharged from the Army in the fall of 1945 after fighting in WWII. He would marry Hortense Smith from Owsley County not far from where the Allens lived in Clay County. John and his bride would join his sisters Esther and Alta in Dayton, Ohio.

All three of the siblings and their families would return often to Kentucky to visit their mother Mandy there on Teges and their sister Rachel’s family on Furnace Branch. They would catch up with family and makeover Rachel’s children. I’ve been told that Esther usually had a camera with her and she would always take photos during their get-togethers. I suppose that it is to her that I owe thanks for many of the photos that we from those times.

Now in 1946, Alta and her husband Bug had their first child. Both parents worked at an automobile factory there in Dayton and when they began having children, Mandy would move from Teges to live with Alta and Bug in Dayton. Rachel, Boyd, and their family would move from Furnace Branch to the old Allen home place on Teges.

Alta and her family with Granny, John and his family, and Esther would continue to return to Teges to visit with Rachel as they could. Kentucky cousins would become acquainted with Ohio cousins. Country cousins would become a bit acquainted with the ways of city cousins. One of Rachel’s daughters, Fanny has told me how awed she was by her cousin’s sandals. She had never seen such shoes before and snuck them on her feet to walk around a bit in them before her cousin returned back home.

        

                       Esther Allen with her nephews and niece;
                                 Alta's children and John's son

Sometime in or before 1947, Esther and the family received devastating news. Esther was diagnosed with tuberculosis which was a disease that had wreaked havoc for the family several times in the past. Her father, step-grandfather, aunt, as well as other family members, had died from TB. Not long after the diagnosis, Esther became a resident of Stillwater Tuberculosis Sanatorium in Dayton.

So for roughly the last six years of her life, Esther was confined to Stillwater. Esther who had loved to dress nicely and fix her hair and makeup just so would have no opportunity to go out and so no need to for nice dresses or makeup.

In 1950, Esther would hear the news that her sister Rachel had died from TB back on Teges. Rachel left seven children ranging in age from ten months to nine years for Boyd to raise. He would not be able to keep the family together and Alta would take in the oldest and the baby. The other five children would end up with other family or in children’s homes.

Esther had lost, not only a sister but knowing that TB is what had killed her must have caused Esther to lose hope about her own survival as well.

Esther could have visitors while at the sanatorium. I am not certain what precautions that visiting a TB patient at Stillwater entailed. I have heard some folks say that when they visited a TB patient, the patient had to wear a mask and the visitors had to wear a mask. Social distancing was required. Another person said that the sanatorium where their family member had been had two fences separated by about ten feet. The patient would be on one side of one fence and the visitors on the other side of the other fence and they would converse over the fences.

I am not certain what Stillwater’s policy was but it seems likely that Esther may have seen family members while all wore masks or from a distance. There were no hugs, no gentle touches from the hands of a mother, sister or brother. Children were not allowed to visit patients in normal hospital settings and so they would for certain not be permitted to visit Esther at Stillwater.

John’s wife Hortense was the older sister of my father. John was the uncle of my mother Loretta, the oldest daughter of Rachel who had gone to live with Alta when Rachel had died. Both of my parents, as children, rode with family members when they went to visit with Esther. They would stay in the car and wait while the adults went to visit with Esther. Both recall that Esther’s room was on the second floor of Stillwater and both recall Esther looking down from the window of her room waving to them as they waited in the car.

I can’t imagine how bittersweet it must have been for Esther to see those children and know that she would likely not be able to ever dote on them with hugs, pinched cheeks, and little gifts again. She would never be able to marry and have children of her own to love and hold.

                                Esther in her room at Stillwater

When Esther realized that she would likely not live much longer, she asked her brother John to ask their old neighbor Emma Murrell if Esther could be buried in a little family graveyard there on Emma’s land. Esther said that she knew that as long as Emma was alive that her grave would be cared for.

Esther would die in Stillwater Sanatorium on April 23, 1953. She was not yet forty years old but I reckon that death must have come as a blessing for her. She was free to leave Stillwater and I can just imagine her sister Rachel and other loved ones in Heaven greeting her with embraces that she had surely been hungry for!

Esther’s body returned to Teges to be buried. She had been born there during the splendor of fall and she returned there during the beauty that is spring in the hills. I imagine that there were a few florist arrangements on her grave but nature provided the most beautiful blossoms in the form of dogwood and redbud blooms. And Emma Murrell, just as Esther was certain of, took care of Esther’s grave until her own death years later.

Esther never married. She had no children of her own to leave behind. She did leave behind photos for her future family to cherish. She also left behind at least one letter written to two of Emma Murrell’s children.

                             

Dear Vivian + Corbit,

Will ans your sweet letter was so glad to hear from you.

I am glad you children like to go to school guess it be lonesome when school out but you can go down and play with Loretta is she as mean as ever.

She write me ever week almost poor little Weets She has been sick so much guess that why she didn’t go to school.

I get home sick to see all of you children guess you’ll be big boys + girls when I get to see you again.

Mother said all of you had grown so much how Sylvia and her babies and Bill + Daisy also.

Corbit what are you doing since school out, Does Robert have his dog yet.

So be good and mind your mother, and I bring you a big bag candy some day.

Wouldn’t it be fun for all us to get gether on Sunday with Rachel children and take pictures and play games.

Love Ester

Gee you should see Dale he’s so big and talks like a little man.

I haven’t seen the little baby. So I’d better stop + seal this before I rite a big book.

An Ancestor's Voice

                                     Upper Sadler Cemetery,
                                     Clay County, Kentucky



An Ancestor's Voice

When my heartbeat ceases and my breath's sigh lies still,
Bury me please, on the top of yon' hill,
There on the top of the steep where the crops can't grow,
The earth will welcome my flesh and bones, this, I know,
For where my ma, my pa, and my little babes sleep,
I know this poor body, that ground will welcome and keep.
And at the head of my grave, please place a stone,
With the name and my dates etched thereupon.
And there, when the burdens of living give you pause,
Please visit my grave and remember what was.
Hear the songs of the birds, the rustle of leaves in the breeze,
Let the quiet and solitude fill your heart with ease.
Please walk upon my grave as much as you will,
For it will be a welcome sign that I'm remembered still.
And years from now, when no memory of me lives on,
Perhaps the letters of my name will be etched still in that stone.
And some future descendant will come searching for that name,
Seeking a forebear to joyfully claim.
Perhaps she will search the stones on that hilltop steep,
With her hands from the stones, grass and weeds, she'll sweep.
And she will study stones long weathered and worn,
For who is buried there and dates when they died and were born.
And on my stone, she'll trace shallow letters that once ran so deep,
Glance at the stones markin’ little ones nearby and perhaps gently weep.
She'll know that I was not just a name and a hyphen surrounded by dates,
But a living soul much as herself who was well acquainted with heartaches,
And also with hunger, frustration, pain, and fear,
Contentment, anger, joy, and loss of ones dear.
Perhaps, she will realize that little separates she and I,
Save the passage of time, a heartbeat, and breath's sigh.
And perhaps she will yearn to know of the story of my life,
All of those stories I will gladly share with her in the sweet by and by.

                                       Upper Sadler Cemetery,
                                       Clay County, Kentucky
                                  Grave of Rachel Allen Nolen

The Lonely Barn

Just an old barn; we often pass an old home and wonder about the stories that it might tell. In comparison, old barns might seem to be story-less; or, at least, less storied.

I wonder though. I see an old barn and I think of my grandpa’s old barns and the old barns that other family members, past and present, have had. They too have stories to tell.

Their stories wouldn’t just include a cow patiently munching hay in its stall as its calf head butts its udder for more milk. Their stories wouldn’t just include the muffled shufflin’ of the mule’s hooves on the hard-packed, straw-covered dirt floor. No, the story of a barn would be a human story also.

Perhaps the story would seem to begin with the families of several community members gettin’ together to build the barn. But, the story began long before its first board was even measured or cut. Its owner had probably spent considerable time clearing land of trees for the barn. Perhaps, he used those trees for the barn wood or perhaps he bought the wood already in boards; but the money had not come easy. He had perhaps worked hours in a nearby mine or raisin’ tobacco crops to make money to purchase the building supplies for the barn. Perhaps he had exchanged labor at the lumber mill in exchange for the lumber. Regardless of how the money for the barn was earned, it had likely required many hours of toil while yet just a dream in its owner’s mind.

And perhaps, now, his neighbors and their families have joined together to assemble the owner’s barn just as his family has joined in to raise other barns. And he and his neighbors enjoy some hours makin’ a respite of camaraderie and celebration out of the hard labor of buildin’ a barn!

And after that barn had stood there for years, what other stories might it have? Perhaps, there would be stories of anguish, sorrow, hopelessness as a farmer, with family around, struggled to help a cow give birth to a new calf. That calf was to be little Johnnie’s and in spite of hours of effort through a sleepless night, the calf as well as the momma are lost. Little Johnnie sees the lifeless calf lyin’ on the ground near its momma; his head bowed and though his eyes sting, only a couple tears slide from his eyes. And his father, his father’s eyes sting, as well, but his heart feels somethin’ more dark; fear or desperation or some other brutal emotion. His family lost the cow, the calf and its milk supply; things that his family counted on for survival!

And joy! The rafters of the barn have rung with laughter; the laughter of siblings jumpin’ into piles of hay that they were supposed to be feedin’ the stock! The joy of anticipation as young children nail together pieces of wood from the lumber pile in the corner to make a sled to slide down the snow-laden hill!

And yearnin’! The old barn had known that when one young lady had confided in her sister that she was in love with the handsome young man from a couple hollers over. He had been regularly ridin’ his mule to visit their church; and as the girls sat atop a pile of hay, an older sister confided in a younger that she thought she was in love.

And pain! That old barn had seen pain when the stubborn and impatient mule Jim pushed the old farmer hard against the side of the barn, breakin’ his rib. Yes indeed, the barn has seen pain.

And contentment! That old barn knew that when the farmer has taken care of the animals and the day’s other chores and left the darkness of the barn for the darkness of the evenin’ and headin’ back to the glowing welcome of the house and his warm bed.

And if it could, the old barn might even feel loneliness; loneliness due to the absence of the children’s laughter, the absence of confidences passed between siblings and the absence of any human presence.

And then, as sheets of tin fly off in a strong breeze, and boards begin to rot, and nearby vegetation gradually reclaims the earth the barn stood on, the barn returns unto the earth from whence it came, and the lone barn’s story comes to an end.

Muddy Pond Sorghum Run

So last fall my parents and I were fortunate to be able to go to Muddy Pond near Monterey, Tennessee to see the Muddy Pond folks, the Guenther family, make some sorghum. We have some serious sorghum lovers in the family and Muddy Pond sorghum has been our favorite for years now. Dad has eaten a lot of different sorghum in his 82 years and he says it is the best that he has had. I reckon those are words that you can take to the bank!

Well, it was a couple hour drive but it was a beautiful day for a drive and we got to see some pretty scenery along the way. We even stopped at a rest area like we have never experienced before. We were almost headed back out on 40 West when we were goin’ 40 East before we had even gotten out of the car to “rest”! There were some beautiful old oak trees at the rest area and it was worth the confusion to be able to see them!

Mighty Oaks

 

Closer to Muddy Pond, some folks had some beautiful fields of corn that were ready to be harvested. We even saw a farm that had several elk on it. 

Beautiful Corn

                                                                                            

                                                 Elk Herd

Of course, we saw fields of sorghum. Some of those fields were already harvested, some were waitin’ to be harvested and others were partway in the process of bein’ harvested. All of them were beautiful.

 

We made it to the Muddy Pond sorghum mill where they had a gentleman with a horse that was workin’ a small mill that squeezed the juice out of the sorghum cane. The cane was fed into the mill by the man. As the horse walked around a circular path, it pulled an arm attached to the mill that turned it. The cane went in one side, the juice emptied into a container and the cane waste was spit out the other side. 

Sorghum Mill

                                      Sorghum Cane Waste

This gentleman told us that the small mill was really just to show folks how it used to be done. Now the Muddy Pond folks have a huge harvester to pull with their tractors that mills the cane as it is bein’ cut. The juice is sent into large tanks that are also pulled by the tractors. The cane waste is thrown out onto the field where it will break down into compost and add nourishment back into the soil. 

Dad asked the gentleman if he knew how much this harvesting machine had cost. The gentleman answered that the Guenthers had made it themselves. I reckon these Muddy Pond folks must come from a long line of Appalachians. They knew what they needed and they used what they had to make it!

Now after the juice is collected, it is pumped into a holding tank. Here it is preheated so that the next day it can be boiled down into sorghum in a huge maze of evaporator pans. The steam rises along with the mouth-watering aroma of hot sorghum above the evaporator pans. I wish that I could’ve bottled the smell of that room! The pans are heated by steam from a wood-fired steam locomotive boiler. The gentleman workin’ the evaporator pan would occasionally skim off the foam as the sorghum boiled. He said that because the pan was so large and so shallow, it only took about 30 minutes to take the sorghum from preheated juice to hot sorghum. 

Holding Tanks for the Milled Juice

Wood to Fire the Steam Engine

This gentleman said that the hot and dry weather had been great for the sorghum harvest. He said in a normal year, it takes 8-9 gallons of juice to produce a gallon of sorghum. This year, they were gettin’ one gallon of sorghum for about every six of juice. I guess the dry heat must have pre-evaporated the juice! This gent said that the family raises about 65 acres of sorghum cane and on sorghum cookin’ days they can make up to 500 gallons of sorghum. 

                                     

                               Sorghum Juice Making Its Way

                                   Down The Evaporating Pan

After the juice had made its way down the evaporator maze, the 200 plus degree hot sorghum was pumped through a coolin’ system where it would slowly flow down a series of shallow levels. During this cooling process, it would cool down to about 150 degrees. From the coolin’ system, it was pumped into a large container with a spigot. At this station, boxes of clean jars waited to be filled from the spigot with the beautiful amber-brown liquid. 

Sorghum at the Cooling Station

 
                               Cooled Sorghum Being Bottled

The process has changed a bit over the years but thankfully the results are still the same, a delicious, thick syrup. That syrup can be used to make delicious treats like sorghum suckers, dried apple stack cakes, gingerbread, popcorn balls, taffy… Thinkin’ of those delicious treats can make your tongue slap your brain out in anticipation!

Sorghum Sucker

Dried Apple Stack Cake

                                              Popcorn Ball

Sorghum Treats

Popcorn Bars

Popcorn balls made with real sorghum are just about my favorite sweet. Dad occasionally makes them but it seems to take a while to form the popcorn mixture into balls and he doesn’t make them often. I decided that I would try to make them in a way that is easier to make and easier to eat, so I make them into bars like Krispy treats.

Last week Dad, Mom, and I had traveled to Muddy Pond and bought us some Muddy Pond sorghum. On Wednesday, I was visiting with them and since we didn’t have to worry about hoardin’ our sorghum, we decided to make a batch of popcorn bars.

We made a big batch of them and I thought that I would share the process in case anyone likes sorghum and is interested.

Mom popped the corn. She popped four separate batches using a nearly full yogurt cup of corn each time. Dad sifted through the corn after it was popped to get out any unpopped or partially popped grains. We gotta take care of our teeth!

Put the popped corn into three large containers, you need stirring room, and set them aside. Also, get two to three shallow cooking sheets ready for the popcorn bar mixture by spraying with cooking spray. I place a piece of wax paper on the sprayed surface so that the paper doesn’t stick to the bar mixture too. 

After the corn was popped, I mixed equal parts or 2 cups each of brown sugar and sorghum in a good-sized saucepan. Use a bigger pan than you think you need because it will expand quite a bit. I heated the mixture over medium heat stirring constantly until I could drop a bit of it into a cup of cold water and it stayed together in a sticky mass. Then I took it off the heat. I didn’t time it but it was probably about five-plus minutes.

After I remove it from the heat, I add a teaspoon full of soda into the sorghum/brown sugar mixture and stir it in well. This is when the mixture expands quite a bit. Then I poured the mixture over the three mixing pans with corn. At this time, Mom, Dad, and I each stirred the sorghum into the popcorn until it was mixed well. 

Next, I took the greased wax paper up and poured some of the mixture into each of the waitin’ pans. I put the wax paper on top of the popcorn mixture and packed it down into the pan good. Dad buttered his hands and kept some out to make him a huge popcorn ball to eat. He sure looked happy when he ate it too!

                                                      Dad enjoying his popcorn ball.