A good lick with a strop
Dec. 3, 2013
I know most of the older readers will know what a razor strop is. How many younger readers know?
Back in the good ol’ days when a shave and a haircut were standard fare at barber shops, there was a strop hanging from every chair.
A razor strop is a flexible strip of leather or canvas maybe about three inches wide and 18 inches or a couple of feet long. Back in the day of straight razor shaves, barbers would strop the razor before each shave. That consisted of moving the razor in the direction of the spine back and forth along the strop, alternating the direction of the spine with each stroke. There was a rapid back-and-forth movement … whish whish whish, repeated several times.
All of which leads to this. Bill Ryan had the well-known-in-Wickliffe Chesapeake Bay retriever, Ike. Ike was a great duck dog, and he could do other things as well, such as walk to the post office to get the mail at the back door and then deliver the mail to Bill at the Standard Oil station.
When it wasn’t duck season and if there wasn’t anything to do, the laid-back Ike sometimes would lie on the station floor and lick himself, an activity Bill described as “stropping his dick.”
Truth in labeling
Oct. 14, 2013
Just for the heck of it, I decided to try a different type of deodorant.
Normally I use Old Spice Original High Endurance.
A few days ago I picked up a container of Arm & Hammer Ultra Max. Among other words on the container were these: “Invisible Solid.”
Sure enough, I can’t find it.
Maybe I was day dreaming
August 17, 2013
I guess because of all the showers we’ve been having, the dampness has encouraged the growth of toadstools or mushrooms in the yard. I don’t know one from the other.
And even if I did know which was which, I still would not be nibbling on them. That means I’m pretty sure I haven’t tasted any hallucinogenic mushrooms.
So how to explain what I saw today?
It was 5:44 p.m. MET (Monkey’s Eyebrow Time). I was sitting out front, listening to the rain and watching little splashes bounce up like geysers off Monkey’s Eyebrow Road.
From the east came the sound of a vehicle headed west on the road. The sound didn’t have the industrial grumble of a tractor or bigger piece of farm machinery. It didn’t have the roar of the Harleys that pass the house fairly often.
Usually that narrows it down to a car or a pickup truck.
But when it came into view, it was none of those. It was a limousine.
Blink blink double take.
A limousine. A limousine on Monkey’s Eyebrow Road headed toward … toward what? I don’t know. The Ballard Wildlife Management Area and its unpaved roads? Oscar?
I’m sure there are lots of reasons a limousine would be on Monkey’s Eyebrow Road. Reasons such as … well, frankly, I can’t think of a single good reason.
Maybe I was day dreaming or had dozed off and was having a dream.
I’m pretty sure it didn’t belong here. Anything unusual that belongs here is painted either camouflage or John Deere Green.
A squawk over too many quackers
August 14, 2013
It was 1972 or 1973, and I was managing editor at the daily newspaper in Cairo, Ill.
I also was the paper's outdoor writer, reporter, columnist, circulation route driver, and photographer.
That was how I made my living. I was passionate about the work I did for the newspaper, but I was even more passionate about hunting ducks around Southern Illinois and Western Kentucky, often with my good friend Danny Ryan.
My duck call was a Yentzen. I had gone through several different brands of duck calls over the years, but had settled on the Yentzen, produced by Jim Fernandez at Sure-Shot Game Calls in Groves, Texas.
It was time for the annual Illinois state duck, goose, and raccoon calling contest at Anna, Ill., and I decided to attend as a spectator, not a contestant.
My good friend, the late Charlie Sullivan, was definitely a contestant, however. He entered all the contests, and he won most of the time. Among the titles awarded at Anna was one called National Coon-Squalling Champion. Charlie won that title several years. He also was a perennial champion in the category of calling geese by mouth. He was as good a goose caller as I’ve ever heard. He served as a guide during goose season, calling for hunters who hired him.
He had left home without his duck call on this particular day, so I let him borrow my Yentzen. He won the state duck calling contest with it.
A couple of years later, in 1975, I was in Guantanamo Bay as a Journalist in the U.S. Navy. I had left Cairo the year before.
Charlie did something unique that year at Anna. Instead of showing up with a single call, he was rigged out with a multiple-call setup. It consisted of three duck calls attached to a harmonica holder around his neck, two Scotch brand calls in each hand (the Scotch call consisted of a wooden call inserted into a tube of accordianed rubber , so that when you shook it, it produced the chuckle we duck hunters call a feed call), and one other call mounted to a foot bellows that could be operated by stepping on the bellows.
When all the calls were in operation, it sounded like a whole flock of ducks. Charlie blew away the competition.
The winner of state duck calling contests becomes eligible to complete in the national contest held each year in Stuttgart, Ark.
A contestant at Anna, miffed by his loss to Charlie, wrote to authorities at Stuttgart and described Charlie’s rig. The folks in Arkansas rewrote their rules before Charlie got there, limiting each caller to a single call.
The next year, Sports Illustrated published a very good article about the incident, and I’m going to include a link to that article.
The morning weather was very cool today and is supposed to be even cooler tomorrow. On cool – almost chilly – days like this, I often think of Charlie and his love of life and all things that involve outdoors activity. And I always think of him on fall and winter mornings and evenings when I sit outside and hear a flock of Canada geese honking their way to … I don’t know, to somewhere. I suspect Charlie is there waiting for them. http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1091162/1/index.htm
Andy Barrow wheeled through Monkey’s Eyebrow
(Note: Andy Barrow recently retired from the oil business. He and his wife moved to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. In this article he sent to me by e-mail, he tells about a road trip they took about 10 years ago, which led through Monkey’s Eyebrow. He includes a link to a story about an imaginary yacht club; it mentions a river boat captain who, in the story, came from Monkey’s Eyebrow.)
August 13, 2013
By Andy Barrow
I just found your web site celebrating Monkey's Eyebrow, Ky. This may be a somewhat long story, but I hope you will bear with me. I just wanted to let you know that Monkey's Eyebrow has, in a somewhat unusual way, received recognition in some rather unexpected parts of the world.
First, about myself. I'm recently retired from the oil business. During my time working, my wife and I were fortunate to be able to travel and live in some pretty unusual places in the world. While we enjoyed the time we spent overseas, we began to realize that we really needed to spend more time exploring our own country. So, during the times that we were able to come back to the states for visits, we took a small roadster as far and wide in the US as we could. We pretty much covered the states.
Our trips would start from northwest Arkansas – the place where our car was stored when we were abroad. We would always just pick a general area we wanted to be, and start heading in that direction. On one of our trips about 10 years ago, I recall picking up a map and immediately seeing Monkey's Eyebrow. I told my wife “We have to go there.” On the way, we ended up getting bracketed by storms – let me tell you, tornado sirens can be pretty frightening when heard through the convertible top of a small car!
Regardless, we pressed on and eventually made it through Cairo and on to Monkey's Eyebrow. For us, just the idea that we were there was sufficient – we didn't need a town limit sign. We traveled on to the east coast and even more adventures.
Fast forward to today, or at least a few years ago. I had retired and we moved to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. I'm an avid sailor, and we live near the beach, sailing and enjoying a wonderful area. We regularly meet up with folks who are heading to the South Pacific in yachts large and small. We call them “Puddle Jumpers,” since they are jumping across the big puddle (the Pacific) and heading to tropical islands. To say that some of these people are “characters” is quite an understatement, but we love spending time with people who have decided to go on these great adventures.
If you want to see more about Puddle Jumpers, and see an interview with yours truly, have a look here: http://www.travelsecretsmexico.com/episodes/episode-4-banderas-bay-adventures.html
Over a few drinks one night we came on the idea to start our own imaginary yacht club, called The Strawberry Monkey Yacht Club, named after a pet monkey at a nearby beach bar that went crazy when presented with a strawberry, or anything red. Being a former IT guy, it was my job to put together the web site, and to occasionally record things that went on in the club.
Since we needed a fictional back-story to go along with our fictional yacht club, I wrote a whole story about a river boat captain from, you guessed it, Monkey's Eyebrow!
Here's the web site: http://www.strawberrymonkeyyc.com/
The idea of the Strawberry Monkey Yacht Club went to the South Pacific with our friends, where they staged a number of “initiation ceremonies,” talking about the fictional founder of the club and doing a number of other silly things. I was fortunate to be present at one of the parties in Fiji. They were held in a number of other locations throughout the South Pacific.
So that is how Monkey's Eyebrow ended up worldwide.
My wife and I are still road-tripping in a roadster. We do it for a little longer now that we have the time in our retirement. We are heading out this Thursday, going east with the intention of meeting up with relatives in Louisville on Friday or Saturday. From there we are going to Newfoundland, eventually.
When I told my wife our route, her first question was, “Can we go to Monkey's Eyebrow?” Perhaps we can! Perhaps if we do, we'll see your farm.
Thanks again for the great web site and the great stories about a place that has intrigued us for a number of years.
(NOTE: I replied by e-mail, asking Andy’s permission to print the story here. I also asked if he might be kin to the Barrows who live/lived around here. Here’s what he wrote back.)
As a matter of fact, there may be a relationship with the Barrows there in Kentucky. My grandfather was born in the area that is now covered by Kentucky Lake. My parents tell the story of taking him there after the lakes were built and everything being so different that he couldn't recognize the area where his homestead might have been.
These showers are nice, but …
August 7, 2013
We’ve had several showers recently at Monkey’s Eyebrow, some steady rainfall without any real cow-on-a-flat-rock gullywashers.
It has been a low-key pleasure to sit in a chair under the small, roofed porch, listening to the rain wash off the leaves and enjoying the slight lowering of temperatures, which have been pleasantly low the last several days, even without the rain. Some of life’s best pleasures are those that cost us nothing except the time to indulge in them.
There is a downside, however.
I’m not a devotee of having a well-kept lawn. There’s not much that I do in life that requires me to spend hours and hours trying to achieve a lawn that looks like the putting green on a golf course. In fact, there’s nothing I do that requires such attention to the grass and weeds and hay or whatever else grows in the couple of acres that I mow.
I do, however, try to keep the yard mowed to a respectable condition. During the normal grass-growing season, that means mowing about once a week, sometimes even every four days.
But with these regular showers, the growth rate of the things that grow in the couple of acres that I mow has become phenomenal.
I can’t keep up. What I do now is get on the riding mower or yard tractor or whatever it’s called, mow a strip about 10-feet long, then turn off the engine, turn around, and watch the grass grow back to fill in the strip I just mowed.
Genetics or literature?
August 8, 2013
My intestinal system, essential though it may be, frequently discomfits me, notably through its external relief valves.
I suspect some of it is hereditary because I seem to share conditions with my uncle Billy Bob Crice and probably others of the Crice and Culver genealogical lines.
Without doubt, there are contributing factors: Diet, one or more of the medicines I take, the absence of a gall bladder, the presence of a protective insulating layer of fat.
I’ve had slight problems most or all of my life, but it’s getting worse, I’m sure.
Here’s how I measure the worsening of the problem.
I am a reader, owner of a few hundred hardcover books, purchaser of at least a couple of new books each month and sometimes more. I have favorite authors, maybe 20 or more of them, and I buy their new books as soon as they are issued.
If I read straight through, the new books are gone too quickly and I am forced to re-read older books. That isn’t all bad because as my memory fails I can finish a book and then start re-reading it immediately, and none of it sounds familiar.
But even if the old book seems new, I know that I have read it before. I prefer to be reading a book I have never read.
In order not to finish the new books too quickly, I started a couple of years ago limiting my reading time to when I was a’throne in the bathroom.
The frequency and duration of those toilet sessions have increased sufficiently that I pretty well can handle a book a day again. And that’s how I monitor the change.
Some really hot flashes
August 7, 2013
After the dogs nose-nudged me awake around 4:30 this morning, nature provided a grand spectacle.
The sky was continuously aglow with flashes of lightning. There were none of those dramatic bolts that briefly provide jagged links between earth and sky, just constant bright flashes of cloud lightning accompanied by the percussive tempo of low rumbles of thunder.
Once the dogs had performed their morning eliminations, I sat in a yard chair and we watched the show for several minutes, until I was reminded of the song from the movie, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.” You know the song, the one that celebrates how “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head.”
When the raindrops began fallin’ hard enough, the dogs and I decided it was time to come indoors, where they enjoyed their breakfast and I started my
morning computer ritual.
I checked again at 5:30 and the light show continued while the raindrops were fallin’ just a little harder.
What a delightful morning it was today at Monkey’s Eyebrow.
A handful of random events
August 6, 2013
As birthday number 70 creeps up from the rear – and I know it’s from the rear instead of from the front because in less than two weeks it will kick me right where behind frequently attaches to chair – I have some mostly unrelated thoughts to share.
Speak clearly please!
This first one probably can be explained in part by the first paragraph which points out that I’m almost ready to add another year to the total.
When Bella and I came home around the middle of the afternoon today after running a chore, I noticed that the telephone’s message light was blinking. It showed that I had one voice message waiting.
I wondered who might have called. I get very few calls on the cell phone and even fewer on the house phone.
After pushing the “play message” button, I heard a voice that I had trouble understanding. I was on the verge of becoming irritated by the caller’s failure to enunciate clearly when I realized what the call was.
While Bella and I were in the car, I thought of something I wanted to remember, so I used the cell phone to call the house phone and leave a message.
That was embarrassing. Thank goodness no one was around to witness it.
A continuity of residence
While attending funeral visitation for down-the-road neighbor Billy Pippin a couple of weeks ago at the Morrow Funeral Home in La Center, Ky., I met Jack Graves. Jack informed me that he was born in the house where I now live, just 24 days before or 24 days after Tot Waldon was born not very far away. I think that would have been in the 1920s. Jack said he thought his family might have lost the property during the Depression. Jack told me he had met another man who also had been born in this house.
I don’t know the exact age but I’m sure this house is more than a hundred years old.
According to Evelyn Hook, who was born in Monkey’s Eyebrow in 1920, the first of four children of Ples and Irene Arivett, her grandfather John Wildharber once owned the farm where what is now my house sits. Later it was owned by the Graves family and then, I believe, by the Skidmore family.
I think it was the Skidmores who sold the farm to my aunt and uncle, Pod and Herman Tilley, in 1946 or thereabouts.
The Tilleys' first look at the house
At the celebration this past Saturday of the 50th anniversary of her marriage to Joe Moss, I was telling my cousin Barbara Lynn (Tilley) Moss about meeting Jack Graves.
Barbie remembered the first time her parents looked at the house and farm before they bought it.
It was hog-killing time when they came, and the people who were raising hogs here were cleaning them on the kitchen table when Herman and Pod came by. No hog carcasses made it inside the house after the Tilleys moved here.
Today, I’m pretty sure any real estate agent – or even any owner selling a house himself or herself – would put off hog cleaning in the kitchen at least until after the prospective buyers and left.
Tickling the ivory
At the aforementioned visitation after Billy Pippin died, I met another person who provided some continuity to my family.
I am sorry to say that I don’t remember her name.
She either recognized me or someone told her who I am. She told me that she had taken piano lessons in Blandville from my paternal grandmother, Edna Jones Culver.
Miss Edna, as folks called her, lived at the time in the Jones farm outside of Wickliffe, where later what is now Highway 121 was cut through. The house was located at what would become the intersection of 121 and the Beech Grove road that goes on to Blandville.
MeMa, as I called her, taught piano at the Blandville school.
I remember riding with her to Blandville one day on a bus. The strongest memory I have of that trip was going across an iron bridge that is now gone, but then passed over a creek in the bottoms before the hill that led up into Blandville.
That’s the only person I’ve ever met who told me that my grandmother was his or her piano teacher.
And finally …
I wonder if I’m the only person who has both a child and a great-grandchild in kindergarten at Ballard this year.
My daughter Bella and my great-grandson Kasey Wayne Chandler will start attending kindergarten on Thursday, Aug. 8. Both were in Jessica Buchanan’s Preschool class last school year.
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.”