MOST RECENT
I would hate to consider the alternative
May 4, 2013
Sometimes when I see a headline, I have to scratch my head and wonder what was on the headline writer’s mind when he or she wrote it.
Consider this one from the front page of the Paducah Sun, April 30:
“Regional flooding temporary”
I can’t argue with that. It’s accurate.
But when I saw it, it did make me stop and think.
Here’s what I thought: “When has regional flooding not been temporary?”
Just about every year that I can remember, we have a flood. The rivers rise and spread out into the river bottoms. Sometimes the water gets very high. In 1937, for instance, it was higher than Paducah’s flood walls and downtown Paducah had water standing in it. I’ve seen pictures of people in boats riding around in the downtown area.
But it was temporary. It eventually receded.
Even if you accept the biblical account of a great flood after more than a month of daily and nightly rains which probably forced the kangaroos to swim across the ocean from Australia, you have to concede that it also receded and then the kangaroos swam back across the ocean.
So when isn’t a flood temporary? So, why did the headline writer state the inevitable and obvious? What distracted the headline writer’s attention that day and why didn’t some editor change the headline?
But consider how thankful we should be that an equally accurate headline writer didn’t write, “Regional flooding permanent.”
There are others who deserve thanks, too
May 2, 2013
As Bella bounces around the house this morning, excited about this afternoon’s ceremonies marking graduation from Ballard County Preschool, I see stories on the front pages of both of the county newspapers that we have proclaimed May “Thank a Veteran Month.”
Veterans – the men and women who took time out from their civilian lives to serve in the military and some who gave their lives while serving – deserve thanks for their service.
But others also deserve thanks.
In Ballard County, it seems like we are consumed with recognizing and thanking and celebrating veterans.
Especially in World War II, the men and women from the United States and other countries defended a world at war. In the more recent conflicts, I’m not so sure what we defended. During my service in the Army and Navy during the Vietnam era, for instance, I never felt that our country was threatened. We do face a threat today from terrorists, but the country we first chose to invade didn’t have a connection to those terrorists. I often feel we’re fighting more for revenge than to protect our country. Maybe we are. Maybe not. But I don’t think that any number of bullets, bombs, drones and casualties in Afghanistan or Iraq or any of those places will prevent a determined terrorist from committing his or her mission.
The word “hero” has been greatly diminished these days because we use it to describe acts and people that aren’t really heroic. If you’re running away from a dangerous situation, for instance, and get shot in the ass, are you a hero? The way we use the word today, you are.
Some of our veterans performed truly heroic deeds. Some of them gave up their lives while performing their heroic deeds. Those sorts of things are what the word is about.
Now, consider this: Even though those acts were brave and military service to the country deserves our respect, how much influence did that service have on other people? Not a whole lot. The service is a personal thing. You go, you serve, you become a hero or maybe just type up orders for motor pool supplies, and, if you’re lucky, you come home safe and sound and establish your life as a civilian.
Let’s thank our veterans for that.
But how about we have a “Thank a Teacher Month.” I don’t think anyone can argue that the veterans, individually or collectively, had a bigger influence on us as individuals than our teachers did. Some of us may think the influence is wonderful, others may think the teachers really screwed up their lives, but we can’t deny that they had an influence.
Or, for those who are devout members of churches, how about a “Thank the Minister Month.” I’ll bet your preachers had a tremendous influence on your lives.
Let’s be clear. I’m not complaining about thanking and respecting veterans. I’m just saying that there are people out there who influenced us greatly, and we should take some time to thank them, too.
Looking back at elementary school at Wickliffe and high school at Ballard Memorial, there are so many teachers who shaped me. Two in particular I’m thinking of at Wickliffe are Christine Travis and Shirley Williamson. And what about Mrs. Haynes and Miss Pearl, who taught two or three generations of several of our families. Several of those at Ballard would be coach Jim Frank, Betty Williamson, Ella Mae Megary, Louise Littlepage, Louise Page … I’d better stop because I know I’ll leave out some who I should be thanking. Let me just say that I believed then and still believe today that we had much better teachers than you would expect to find at a small country school. And let me also mention the two teachers Bella has had at Preschool – Susan Bodell and Jessica Buchanan. I think their main function is probably to show love. Teaching is a secondary mission for kids who are three, four or five years old. They and the other teachers and the people who help them are wonderful influences.
Lots of people influenced us. Let’s be thankful for all of them.
They come and go, but mostly go
February 12, 2013
Businesses come and businesses go. That seems to be the natural order of commercial life. Here in Ballard County and especially across the river in Cairo, Ill., they go much faster than they come.
I was thumbing through my high school yearbooks – The Bomb of Ballard Memorial High School – and in the one for 1960, which was my junior year, I decided to look at the ads in the back of the book.
It was startling to read the names of the businesses and to realize how few of them are still around. Of course, that was 50 some odd years ago, so it’s probably natural that many would have closed. The thing is, however, that most of them were not replaced by other businesses.
On the last page of ads there is a vertical box with the heading, “Cairo Business Firms.” The businesses listed in that box are Fair Furniture Company, Dotty Shop, Terrell’s Shoe Store, Keller’s Restaurant, B&B Men’s Wear, Kourie Brothers (I think the correct spelling was Khourie), J.J. Blum, Rhodes & Burford, Security National Bank, Schiff’s Shoe Store, Cade’s Florist, Karcher’s Shoe Store, Dolph Kay Men’s Wear.
On another page there’s an ad for The Pit in Cairo.
Anyone want to guess how many of those are in business today? I think the correct answer is “None.”
Other ads in the back of the annual are for the Ballard County Co-Op in La Center, H&M Motors in Paducah, Morris Insurance Agency in Wickliffe with agents Varlien Perkins and Opal Perkins Sullivan, Irvin Cobb Hotel in Paducah, Barlow Cleaners where “Your clothes are your best friends,” State Farm Mutual with Tot Waldon, W.B. Hagood who was distributor in Barlow of Gulf Oil Products and Accessories.
And there was Arivett’s Grocery in Bandana. The building that housed that store was demolished a year or two ago. Others were Bob Moss Oil Company of La Center, Craig & Webb Used Cars of Kevil which listed a motto of “Have Cars – Will Trade,” an obvious play on the business card of Paladin of the Have Gun – Will Travel TV show; W.E. Abell Insurance of Wickliffe, Waldschmidt Lumber Co. of Wickliffe, and Jones Packing Company of Paducah.
Then there were ads for Rogers’ (Compton Drug Co.) of Barlow which offered complete drug and prescription service now in its 63rd year, Rasco Grocery and Dry Goods of Barlow, Dr. G.D. Baird of Bandana, Watson Feed Mill of La Center, and one that invited folks to “Get a Fiesta Burger” at Bob’s Dairy Queen in Paducah.
The next page had ads from Paducah Typewriter and Supply, Curtis and Mays in Paducah. And the Royal Crown-Nehi Bottling Company in Paducah. Not to be outdone, Coca-Cola Bottling Company of Paducah also advertised their product which came “in Bottles King Size and Regular.”
How about the Balco Theater of La Center, Cooper’s Feed & Seed Store in Bandana, Neal Parsons of Barlow, Gatlin & Cohrs of Paducah which offered a “Complete Record Department,” Negley’s Garage in Barlow, Boyd Tractor Sales in Barlow, Graves Brothers in La Center, and Champion Ford Sales in La Center.
Anyone remember Hilda’s Beauty Shop of Wickliffe (I do; it was run by Hilda Kimsey, wife of Roy and mother of Lew and Kay), Hinkle Bondurant of Barlow, Gus Hook’s Concrete and Gravel Works of Kevil whose ad admonished, “Don’t Cuss, Call Gus,” and Whipples Food Market in La Center, which changed owners and names just a couple of months ago.
Edwards Food Store of Barlow was on the next page, along with Riehl Chevrolet of La Center, Plaza Drive-In of Kevil, Wickliffe Clinic and Advance Yeoman Publishing which was operate by Pat and Judy Magee in those days.
Turning the page we find Harlan Lumber of Barlow, Payne Supply Co. of La Center, Martin Crews Gulf Service Station of Kevil, Sydney G. Dyer of La Center, Citizens State Bank of Wickliffe which described itself as a “Bank of Modern, Courteous Service, to a Community” in an era when a No. 2 pencil was modern, Viniard’s Grocery of Wickliffe, and Price’s Appliance & Bottle Gas Co. of Barlow.
A page later are Kevil Bank which promised 3 percent paid on 12 mos. Certificates and 2 1/2 percent on savings accounts (that’s probably a little better than the banks offer today), E.M. Baily Distributing Company of Paducah which represented Standard of Kentucky, McElya Service Station in La Center, Bulk Gas Co. (Maxon Price) of Barlow, and P.A. Jones & Sons Distinctive Funeral Service of Barlow, Kevil and Wickliffe.
With only four pages to go we see Batts Standard Station of La Center, Oldham’s Café in Barlow which made sure we knew that it was air conditioned, Coffee Animal Clinic of La Center, Waldrop & Watwood Market of Kevil who told us “Your Friendship is Our Greatest Asset,” Garner-Dunbar Chiropractic Clinic of Wickliffe, and Charlie’s Market, headquarters for country hams and bacon in Barlow but they promised “We Shop Anywhere.”
On the third-to-last page are Allred Service Station of Barlow, W.S. Avey Grain Co. of Barlow, Hopkins Super Market of La Center, Noah J. Geveden, Ballard County VFW of Barlow, Word Implement Company, Inc., of Barlow, and Superburger Daisy Cream of Wickliffe.
On the penultimate (that means next to last) page: Brockman Service Center of La Center, Steel’s Tractor Company of Barlow with a theme “Profit Small, Volume Great, That’s the Way We Operate,” Kentucky Utilities in Barlow, The First National Bank in La Center, Howard Graves Plumbing & Heating in Barlow, Martin’s Ashland Service Station in Kevil, and Maurice of Ballard a mile south of Barlow “Where Beauty is Personalized.”
Finally we get to the last page where we find the box listing Cairo merchants that I already mentioned, Bunny Bread with a little rhyme “Mom, Be a Honey, Buy Bunny,” Kevil Feed and Supply Company, and “Buy Dinner Party Foods if you care enough to eat the very best,” and that’s all it says, no location, no phone number.
You would be hard-pressed to find any of those today. Actually a handful are still around, but mostly there are empty stores and empty spaces where they stood back in 1960.
Today, if we want to do any real shopping we drive to Paducah or Sikeston or Cape Girardeau, and maybe even St. Louis or Memphis. Back then, we could find everything we needed in Ballard County or in Cairo.
Progress, I suppose, but I kind of miss those days.
Dirty words and other things I’ll drink to
January 4, 2013
Driving to Paducah several days ago, my thoughts drifted in a number of directions. Fortunately, my car stuck to a single direction.
I wasn’t paying much attention to whatever was on the radio at the time until the news came on and the news reader read about someone dropping what he called “the F-bomb.”
That caused another change in mind direction, and maybe the car even swerved just a little.
When someone says “the F-bomb” we know immediately what F he or she has in mind. When someone on Facebook or Twitter or any of those types of so-called social media writes “wtf” we immediately know that W is “what” and T is “the” and we also know what the F represents.
Those letters stand for what some of us would call a “dirty word.” Personally, I question whether any word is “dirty.” It’s the interpretation of that word in the mind of the listener or reader that might be described as dirty. But that’s not what this discussion is about.
As I thought about the announcer and “the F-bomb,” I asked myself – I had to ask myself because no one else was in the car – if there is any difference in saying F or saying the actual word.
When the announcer says F, the person hearing the statement immediately and inevitably converts the letter to the full word. So, I asked myself, is the announcer any less obscene for saying a letter that all listeners will change to the full word than if he had said the full word?
Then I had this thought: What if a person who would never say even a mild cuss word such as “damn” should hit his thumb with a hammer and exclaim, “Dang it!” Or maybe, “Doggone it!”
Since either of those essentially is expressing the exact same sentiment as “Damn it!” isn’t it the sentiment rather than the word that should be the issue?
Or, in another context, I frequently see or hear about one person or another saying “the N-word.”
We all know what the N stands for. Shouldn’t it be just as wrong to create the word in the mind of a listener by saying the letter as it is to say the word? If there is an issue, I think maybe it’s not that someone says the word, but that we all are able to change the letter to the offensive word. That says a lot about who we are.
But maybe this is a discussion for preachers and not lay thinkers such as I am.
But then I thought about one more thing before my mind started spinning and I had to quit thinking.
I thought about the raid at what was described as a “swingers club” in La Center.
From news accounts, authorities raided the club because they suspected alcoholic beverages were being sold there. Apparently what they found wasn’t liquor.
Ballard County is a dry county and it’s illegal to sell alcoholic drinks in the county. It’s not illegal to consume them, however. People are able to take their own bottles, for instance, to the country club. I saw people bring beer to a recent Ducks Unlimited dinner. Nothing illegal about that.
But isn’t it just a little hypocritical to outlaw one thing when it’s the other that really is the issue?
I’m only guessing, but I believe that when residents vote a county dry, it’s not the sale that they are targeting so much as the consumption, which they cannot target.
They may talk about the dangers of people driving after drinking as the reason for disallowing liquor sales, but all the drinkers have to do is drive a few miles to another county, buy all the drinks they want, and then drive back home – drunk or sober – to the dry county in which they live.
When voters decide to disallow liquor sales, are they saying that they don’t want the profit and the taxes to stay within the county but it’s okay if everyone wants to go to another county and buy all the liquor they want and then bring it back home?
No, what they really want is to outlaw the drinking but they can’t so they outlaw something else.
I would drink to that except that when he diagnosed me as a type 2 diabetic about six years ago, my doctor told me not to drink any alcohol. He didn’t say I couldn’t buy any.
This little light of mine
December 9, 2012
Hank Williams wrong and sang, “I saw the light.”
I believe there’s a statement that has biblical origins, something about hiding your light under a bushel.
And the song kids used to sing in Bible school and perhaps elsewhere, and maybe still do, “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.”
One or all of those come to mind every night when I look out my kitchen window toward the west.
You see, out here at Monkey’s Eyebrow, it’s what you might call “country dark.” Country dark is very dark, especially when there’s no moon and there’s a cloud cover. It may be about as dark as Merle Travis’ describes in his song, “It’s dark as a dungeon way down in the mines.”
And we have no street lights out here. Hey! We don’t even have streets. There’s a road and some driveways, and that’s it.
But every house has a security light mounted on some sort of pole. The lights come on at dark and take a circular slice out of the darkness. They go off when it becomes light in the morning.
I think my aunt and uncle, Pod and Herman Tilley, put up the light here. It’s mercury vapor or some such thing, and it comes on and goes off automatically because of some kind of light sensor.
Whatever the technology is, you can count on that light.
And you can count on the neighbors’ lights, too.
I wake up every couple of hours every night. I guess lots of us older people have to pee often but not so much at a time. I’ve described it as the FM radio syndrome: Frequency is up but the volume is down.
I always go into the bathroom first and then into the kitchen to see if anything new has sneaked into the refrigerator. And I always look out the window toward the west, toward where Jim and Jean Meadors live, very near where Ples and Irene Arivett had their store at Monkey’s Eyebrow. It’s comforting to see their light shining. Somehow, it makes me know that all is well here at Monkey’s Eyebrow.
Sometimes I look to the north and see the flashing red lights on the WPSD TV tower. I don’t get the same feeling of comfort from those lights, but it does make me happy that the tower is still standing.
Lots of mornings before the sun rises, I open the door in the mud room and look east toward Billy and Betty Pippin’s house and feel good about their light.
When I’m out after dark and returning home, the light at my house always beckons as I round the curves east of the house.
I’m glad we don’t have streets and street lights, but I’m thankful for neighbors’ lights.
The Arivett Family of Monkey’s Eyebrow And Other Settlers of the Area
(Note: This is based on conversations with Evelyn Hook Arivett and Leroy Arivett on May 21, 2010, and on some e-mails from Evelyn and her daughter, Wilma Hook Romatz, who lives in Michigan.)
Ples and Irene Wildharber Arivett and Ples’ brother Brad weren’t the first people to own a business at Monkey’s Eyebrow, Kentucky, but their businesses and their presence in the area are inextricably linked to the history of this small community that sports one of the most unusual names in the United States.
The name is frequently featured in atlas listings of unusual names; it has been the subject of at least two features on National Public Radio, and is featured in two books by author Mark Usler, who came to Monkey’s Eyebrow on May 21 to launch his new book, Hometown Celebrations.
The Arivett name itself is also a bit unusual in that it is consistently spelled Arivett, but is pronounced three different ways within the same family. Most of the members of the family and the people who live in the area pronounce the name as Everett, but Evelyn Arivett Hook, daughter of Ples and Irene, pronounces it as it’s spelled, Ar-i-vett. Evelyn’s younger brother, Leroy, who lives near Chicago, pronounces it Ar-vett, without the “i” sound.
Evelyn Arivett was born at Monkey’s Eyebrow in 1920, the first of four children born to Ples and Irene. Horace, who ran a store at Bandana and who died in Bandana a few years ago, was next. Then came Leroy, and finally Harold, who lives near Atlanta.
The family’s roots in Monkey’s Eyebrow stretch back into the 1800s.
The Wildharbers and Goodleys, Irene Arivett’s family, came to Ballard County in 1903 from Henderson, Kentucky. Ples Arivett’s sister, Maude, told Evelyn that when their great grandfather, Jesse Beeler, came to Ballard County from Tennessee in the early 1840s it was nothing but wilderness. For many years, he and his children all lived in houses along what is now called Monkey’s Eyebrow Road, or state route 473.
“Maudie was quite a colorful character too,” Wilma Hook Romatz, Evelyn’s daughter, remembers, “chewing snuff and spitting into a Calumet baking powder can. She had coal black dyed hair, and a huge diamond ring and red-painted nails. Her language was equally colorful.”
According to Evelyn, “Aunt Maudie said she heard that her grandpa had a whole trunk full of confederate money and her grandma kept trying to get him to change it. He refused, and lost everything after the Civil War was over.”
John William Arivett, Ples Arivett’s grandfather, was born in Virginia but moved to Ballard County in the 1860s. He lived to be 98 and was married three times. He lived in Wickliffe when he died in 1940.
The business history of Monkey’s Eyebrow goes back to before the Arivetts opened their first business, which was a gristmill. A man whose last name was Ray had Ray’s Store at the bottom of the hill, down in an area which some folks call Old Monkey. Later, Guy Borden ran the store. Ples and Irene Arivett lived in a house near that store, on the south side of the road. There are no buildings there today. The area is covered with trees.
Several families lived in the area. Before the road was paved, the old road made a 90-degree turn to the north, opposite what is now Palmore Road, then it curved back toward the west, behind where Jim and Jean Meadors live now. The Arivett Store and most of the residences were northwest of the Meadors’ house. The buildings are no longer there.
Charley Waldon lived across the field (no paved road then) south of the store in the white house where Imogene Alexander lives now.
A family of Beelers lived down the road. Evelyn’s grandfather, John Wildharber, at one time owned the farm due east of the old road, a farm later owned by a Graves family and then by Herman and Pod Tilley, a part of which is now owned by Joe Culver.
According to Evelyn Hook, Wildharber came here from California, lived here two or three years, and then went back. He played in a band, When he came here he built a box that his bass fiddle would fit into. He put the box on the back of the car and brought it here with him.
The house where Charley Waldon’s family lived – where twin brothers Dot and Tot were born – was previously occupied by a family named Moss. Evelyn remembers playing with their daughter, who was about her age.
Some other families who lived in the area were Redferns, Crabtrees and Yanceys. “And there were Turners who lived down there. They used to sell watermelons. Sand Ridge grew the best watermelons,” Evelyn Hook recalls.
“There used to be some Laniers who lived down there. Judy Magee was a Hayden, and when you go by the game reserve entry there and you go on down to that curve, the Haydens lived in the house just on that curve. That’s where Judy and her sister grew up,” Evelyn said.
There was a small school “right over there in front of where that antenna is,” Evelyn said, pointing to the WPSD TV tower. “There used to be a building that was still there. I don’t know if it still is, I haven’t been down that road for a while. The building was still there even after they built that antenna out there.
“It was called Graves School. I would say 25 or 30 children went there. It had been built for a two-room school but we used only one of the rooms. If it was good weather we’d play outside, but if it was bad we could go in there, in the other room, and play games or whatever.
“The teacher that we had was real good to read to us. We used to have box suppers and she would use the money that we made from the suppers and other activities to buy books and things to entertain the kids. I love books still, and I’m sure I got it from her. Her name was Laura Lee Holt.”
The Monkey’s Eyebrow children went to high school at Bandana. There were no school buses then, but Howard Owsley, Joe Owsley’s dad, took a two-ton flatbed truck and converted it into a bus. It was closed in, with benches around the walls and a bench down the middle. It also had windows.
“He charged us 10 cents a day,” Evelyn recalls. “He would take us to Bandana and then pick us up at the end of the day. There were 15 or 20 people who rode it. He started at Needmore and drove all around the area picking up children.”
Before he built the gristmill which he and his brother Brad ran, Ples Arivett worked in California twice. He also worked on Dam 53 when it was being built, when Evelyn was about four or five years old. The Arivett family lived at the bottom of the hill then, in a house just past Ray’s Store.
Leroy Arivett recalls that his father would get up very early in the morning and walk the five miles to where they were building the dam. Because he left before daylight, Ples would carry a lantern. Evelyn said he would walk down to where the wildlife refuge is now, cross a lake and go over to where the dam was. Evelyn says she was born in 1920 and that would have been around 1925.
“And then we went to California in 1926,” Evelyn remembers. “My dad and my uncle were working out in the oilfields. I guess the oil company owned houses and rented them to the people who worked for them. We lived out there in a mountainous area and my dad wouldn’t let me go to school because he said you’ll have to ride the bus and there’s all those winding roads. He was afraid for me to ride the bus. So I didn’t go to school until I was seven years old after we moved back.”
They lived in Paducah for about a year or so and Evelyn’s first year of school was in Paducah. After that, she finished grade school at the Graves School at Monkey’s Eyebrow. That school remained active until it was consolidated with Bandana.
She went away to college at Murray State in the fall of 1938 and I didn’t move back.
The Arivetts did some farming in addition to running their businesses. Wilma taped a conversation with her uncle Horace a few years ago when he talked about the time they raised acres of sweet potatoes during the depression, thinking that they could sell them and make a little bit of money. They found it was going to cost more to ship them than they would get, so they brought them back home and ate them all winter. Horace said he still couldn't look at a sweet potato years later.
The Arivetts’ first business enterprise at Monkey’s Eyebrow was a gristmill operated by brothers Ples and Brad. Evelyn says she was always fascinated with the machinery at the mill. They had a tractor chassis in the back part of the mill. It had a big drive shaft that went all the way across and the motor would run an assortment of pulleys and belts. It had a crusher that crushed the corn and there was another grinder that made meal.
“The mill made a lot of meal,” Evelyn says. “My dad usually did that. The Yopp Seed Company in Paducah would buy bags and let my dad fill them up with meal and they would take them back and sell them with Yopp’s name on the bags.”
About a year after they built the grist mill they started putting groceries in the front part. When Evelyn was about 12, in the early 1930s, the Arivetts built a frame building to house the store, separate from the mill.
There was a set of scales between the store and the mill. Farmers would weigh their loaded trucks before the corn was ground. They would weigh them again when the trucks were empty. The difference was the weight of the corn.
Evelyn remembers that the store had about anything that you would want to buy, except meat because there was no electricity to run a cooler to keep meat.
Later, after the Arivett brothers dissolved their partnership, Ples tore down the frame building and built a new store of blocks in the same location as the first store. Those stores were on top of the hill, a location some people call “New Monkey” to distinguish it from the Ray’s Store that stood at the bottom of the hill. With the advent of electricity, that store was able to sell meat.
The Arivetts ran that store until around 1955 when they retired and moved to Bandana, where Horace already had a store.
By the time the uranium enrichment plant was being built near Kevil in the 1950s, there were 14 people living beside or around the Arivetts’ house and store in Monkey’s Eyebrow.
When the state of Kentucky acquired several of the lakes in the area, Ples fixed up rooms to rent to hunters. “He was always looking for ways to make more business,” Evelyn says.
Evelyn moved away in 1938 to go to college at Murray State. She married Harold Hook in 1942, and they lived in McCracken County, but came back to Monkey’s Eyebrow often to visit her family.
She and Harold had a store for about three years in Camelia, where the road from the Paducah Airport intersections with Highway 62.
Ples Arivett died in 1975, and Irene lived until 1999. She was 96 years old.
Comments from readers
Here are some comments from people who have read this article:
Billy Lanier: “The Laniers mentioned in your article were my grandparents, Wallace and Alice Lanier. New Hope Baptist Church sits on land given by my granddaddy.”
Mary Helen Hicks: “The Barnhill family are the ones who lived closer to Monkey’s Eyebrow and raised watermelon, right in front of Mrs. Redfern. Their son is my brother-in-law, married to my youngest sister.”
Ava Magee Siener: “How nice. I go to read about the Arivett family and come across a mention of my mother, Judy Magee.”
Jeanne Culver Thorpe: “This is a great article. I love the genealogy.”