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Natural Bridge and Lexington circa 1957

As seen on my main blog…  Sorry for the rerun, but this blog is read by different people than the main blog is.

A very interesting film made in 1957 about my family’s American home… Special thanks to my friend, Joann, for posting this fascinating video about Natural Bridge and Lexington, Virginia.  

 

I have mentioned before that I come from Virginia. My family has been in Virginia since the early 1700s.  The earliest relative I’ve found in Virginia was a man named Johann Tolley, who came to Virginia from Hamburg, Germany.

Johann Tolley evidently fathered the people in my family who eventually settled in Rockbridge County.  Rockbridge County is kind of in the west central part of the state, in the Shenandoah Valley and Blue Ridge Mountains.  Although I have been visiting Natural Bridge and its environs my whole life, I did not grow up there myself.  I was born and mostly raised not far from Williamsburg and Jamestown, Virginia, clear across the state.

Because my dad was an Air Force officer, the family he made with my mother was nomadic.  My parents spent the first 24 years of their marriage moving to different towns, mostly in the southern United States, but occasionally in other countries.  I was born during their fourteenth year of marriage, so I missed a lot of the moves and didn’t have any sense until the bitter end of my dad’s military career.

The one place that has always been a constant in my life has been Natural Bridge.  I’m pretty sure my family has lived in the same creekside house since at least the 1940s.  I’m not sure what’s going to happen when my aunt and uncle pass on.  I hope someone in the family will keep the house.  It’s a special place that is mostly full of wonderful memories.

Granny’s house… where my dad grew up.  There is a creek that runs in front of the house and another one that runs perpendicular to it on the left.

Down by the creek…

After a rare November snow in 2014… when I last visited.

Another shot up the hill.  I pray this house never leaves our family.  The street it’s on was named after my grandfather.

My family as of 2014.  Sadly, a couple of the people in the photo are no longer with us.  I think we’re missing about twenty people, too.  The Mormons have nothing on us.

 

The family church, High Bridge Presbyterian.  This is where we held my dad’s memorial service.

 

Many of my relatives are buried here, including my dad, who was moved about two years after he was initially buried at Granny’s house.

 

Goshen Pass, which is very close to Lexington and where Bill and I honeymooned…  It’s also kind of where we fell in love, the weekend before 9/11.  That’s another story, though.

My friend, Joann, who originally posted the above video, lives in Lexington, Virginia.  Lexington is about ten miles from Natural Bridge.  It has sort of a special place in my heart because not only is a super cute town, it’s also where many of my family members went to college or worked. It’s also where Bill and I got married in 2002.  Before the area was taken over by transplants from up north and out west, it was mostly settled by Scots-Irish Presbyterians.  According to 23 and Me, that is surely enough the lion’s share of my genetic makeup.  I was raised Presbyterian, too.

The video is interesting viewing for me, since my parents who are/were both from that area got married the year it was made.  Mom was 19 and Dad was 24.  They had lived in Rockbridge County their whole lives.  My dad finished his degree at Virginia Military Institute in 1956 and immediately became an Air Force officer.  The following year, he married my mom and they left the area for good, only to come back for visits.  My dad is now buried in the graveyard at the family church.  Originally,  he was buried on a hillside at the house where he grew up with his eight brothers and sisters, but my mom had him moved.  I guess she realized that house might not always be in family hands.

Another reason why that video is interesting is because it basically reflects the ethos of the 1950s.  The story is told from the Natural Bridge’s viewpoint.  It explains how the area used to be populated by “red men”, also known as Native Americans.  The Bridge explains that it tried to explain to the natives that it was created by God.  Alas, they worshiped the Bridge as a Pagan God, even though the Bridge tried to explain that it was the Christian God who created it.  The Bridge sounds almost grateful as it explains that white Christian settlers eventually moved into the area in 1737.  The white Christians “got it right’.  (I’m being facetious, here.)

Based on the video, a lot of great people came from Rockbridge County.  Even Sam Houston, who eventually went on to be the namesake of Houston, Texas, was born in Rockbridge County.  I never knew that.  It’s actually pretty interesting, given the impact Sam Houston had in Texas.  In fact, reading about Sam Houston is uniquely fascinating, given his family history in Scotland and Ireland.  I was just in Northern Ireland a few months ago and we stopped in Larne.  There is a plaque there commemorating the history of the Houston family before they moved to Virginia.

Sam Houston also moved on the Maryville, Tennesee when he was fourteen years old.  I have not been to Maryville, but I do have a couple of friends who attended Maryville College and one who moved back to the town after she retired from teaching at my alma mater, Longwood University.  I also lived in Texas for a year… and Bill spent several years there and graduated high school in Houston.  I’m amazed at how all of these places are interconnected with Rockbridge County, which even today is still pretty rural.  Although a lot of new people have moved there, there is still a core of people descended from the original settlers.

I’m not sure why, but somehow when I was growing up, I never realized or appreciated the deep connection my family has to Virginia, especially Rockbridge County.  I think it’s because I was a military brat, even though I spent most of my growing up years in Gloucester County.  Gloucester is another one of those places where people settled and stayed, much like Rockbridge County is.

There were several last names there that would always come up at roll call in school.  A lot of them were the children of people from England who had stayed after the Revolutionary War, which was won in nearby Yorktown.  In the early 80s, Gloucester was still so rural that people who moved there were “come heres” and never really got the sense of community that the locals had.  My parents owned at house in Gloucester for about 30 years, but it still doesn’t seem like home, even though it’s probably the one place in the world where I feel sure I could get help immediately if I ever needed it.  I still have a lot of friends who live there.

I didn’t appreciate Virginia when I was younger.  I used to fantasize about moving somewhere else, where the people and the scenery were different.  Now, as much as I like Germany, I’m starting to think about going “home” to Virginia.  Maybe I would only go there to visit, though… I’m not sure if I want to die in my home state or even if circumstances will allow it.

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holidays

Our big Virginia trip, part four– Friday night!

In my family, we traditionally have a “barn party” on Friday after Thanksgiving.  Over the years, the party has been held in a variety of different places.  When I was a kid, the barn on my Uncle Brownlee’s property was owned by someone else, so we had to rent somewhere for our party.  Some years, we had it at the Natural Bridge Hotel, either in a room in the basement or in a reception hall.

In 1987, we had an all out par-tay in one of the big ballrooms.  It was complete with an open bar and a full band featuring my Uncle Brownlee and his brother, my Uncle Stephen.  There was much drunkenness, especially from yours truly.  I was then 15 years old, and one of my cousins, who shall remain nameless, was passing me bourbon and Cokes.  I drank four and got good and hammered.  That was the first time in my life I ever got drunk, and boy was I a mess.  Fortunately, my Aunt Nance filmed the whole thing for posterity…  LOL.  I made myself scarce during the drunk part, thank GOD.  I still like to watch that video, though, because that was a wild party and there are people in it who are no longer with us.

In later years, we had the party at the Fire Station in Natural Bridge, which wasn’t too long on character.  There were lots of stories told, though no dancing or music.  One year, we had karaoke in the barn.  And finally in recent years, we started having the whole celebration in the barn, which my handy and talented Uncle Brownlee has fixed up for dancing and music.  The last few years, we’ve even had live bluegrass music from The Plank Road Express.  In 2010, during our last visit for Thanksgiving, I got to sing a number with the band, which was a lot of fun for me.  In a former life, I think I was a rock star.

I had a feeling we were going to be a bit emotional after my dad’s memorial, so I arranged a date night for Bill and me.  We had dinner at The Southern Inn in Lexington, Virginia.  We ate there once or twice before and there are other restaurants in Lexington.  I will admit that part of the reason I chose that place is because they participate in OpenTable, which is a restaurant reservation service.  I get points every time I make a reservation and have been collecting for over ten years.  But if I don’t reserve a table at least once a year, the points expire.  Since I don’t know when we’ll be back in the States, I figured it was a good opportunity to keep current.  And I wanted to enjoy a nice dinner with my spouse, too.

So we stayed dressed up for dinner, though we really didn’t have to.  The Southern Inn is a fairly casual place and it’s obvious that it’s popular with locals.  Our waitress was very experienced and clearly knew a lot of the people at the surrounding tables.  We enjoyed a very nice meal, too.  I started with baked Brie and a glass of prosecco.  Bill had a bowl of Andouille sausage soup.  I had sea scallops and parmesan grits for my entree.  Bill had a huge steak.  For dessert, I had a Brandy Alexander, while Bill had pecan pie.

Bill reacting to something smartassed I said.

Vino!

Baked Brie… it was a little like a grilled cheese sandwich on steroids.

Bill’s yummy soup!

Scallops, grits, and greens!

Beef!

Brandy Alexander… 

Pecan pie… this was good, but my brother-in-law, Mark, makes an even better one.

We got back to the home place just in time for a spectacular fireworks show put on by one of my cousins.  I wish we’d gotten there a little earlier so I could have gotten more than a few shots.  I was pretty impressed by how professional the show was!

Fireworks!

Then we went to the barn for dancing and more singing… and yes, I did get to sing with The Plank Road Express again.  It was funny, too, because the lead singer spotted me and said, “I’ve been looking for you for four years!  Where have you been?”  I sang “Walking After Midnight” and fumbled with the words a bit… but probably the most special moment of the night came when I saw the words for “On Heaven’s Bright Shore” on her music stand.

You see, I really would have liked to have sung “On Heaven’s Bright Shore” at my dad’s memorial.  That would have been my choice for a solo.  Unfortunately, I didn’t have anyone to accompany me.  I did record an acapella version, but it’s not as good as it would be if I had someone on guitar or something.

The Plank Road Express in the barn…

Anyway, I asked the band if they would mind if I gave “On Heaven’s Bright Shore” a whirl.  They asked if I could sing it in “C”.  I said, “Just play it.  I’m drunk and so is most everyone else in here!”  It turned out pretty well!

I thanked the band for obliging me and explained that I had come all the way from Germany for my dad’s memorial.  The lead singer said, “Oh, so that was your dad who died?  I sang ‘On Heaven’s Bright Shore’ for my dad, too.”  I got the sense that we bonded a little over that song!

Another highlight of Friday night was my Uncle Ed, who is just hilarious.  He said, “Hey Jenny, we have some ‘moon’ here…”  “Moon”, for your edification, refers to moonshine.  Yes, many people in my family enjoy it as well as the odd Miller Lite beer.  My tastebuds have evolved beyond Lite, but I don’t mind if I do enjoy a little “moon” when the opportunity presents itself.  It was good stuff, too– pretty smooth and I haven’t gone blind…

We didn’t get back to the Hummingbird Inn until after 1:00am.  We would have been there sooner, except I left my bag at the house and had to go back and retrieve it.  On the way into the house, I skinned the hell out of my knee.  That may have been yet another sign from my dad.  Many years ago, when I was a kid and we were celebrating Thanksgiving with the family, my dad decided to go jogging.  Possibly in a pre-menstrual moment, I said “I hope you fall and skin your knee.”  My cousin, Suzanne, thought that was the funniest thing and reminded me of it this year.  So maybe it was a little karmic payback.  Despite my smarting knee, I had a great time!

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Our big Virginia trip, part three– My Dad’s memorial…

Friday was an emotional day.  We buried my dad’s ashes on the hillside overlooking the house he grew up in.  Jason Grimes, the minister from High Bridge Presbyterian Church came and had a little service for us.  I was heartened to hear that he’s from South Carolina, which has a special place in my heart.  Go Gamecocks!

 

My dad grew up going to this church and became a member when he was ten years old.  It’s still the “family church”, as it were.

My Uncle Brownlee made the box for my dad’s ashes…  I thought the VMI ball cap was a nice touch.

A few hours later, we had a celebration of his life at the church itself.  Since I was asked to sing, I was a little nervous.  My dad and I have always had a complicated history.  Our musical history together is no less complicated than anything else about our relationship ever was.  My dad was a singer and used to do a lot of solos in church.  When I was very young, I’d plug my ears with my fingers when he’d get up to sing.  I usually got in trouble later for doing that.  As time went on, I became more tolerant, though I can’t say I was ever a great fan of his singing.  I feel comfortable in saying this openly because it’s common knowledge, most of all to my dad.  Anyway, I had visions of him sitting up in Heaven with his fingers in his ears.

I sang “Softly and Tenderly”, which is a hymn I discovered while heavily into karaoke.  Indeed, I used a karaoke track to accompany myself, since it was the easiest thing to do from thousands of miles away.  The version I used is on the soundtrack for the movie, The Apostle, although curiously enough, on the soundtrack it’s an instrumental.  A vocal version by Rebecca Lynn Howard is also on the soundtrack, but it’s different than the one I did.  No matter, though, since I actually prefer the instrumental version.  If you’re curious…

I recorded this a few days after my dad died in July.

So anyway, because I was singing, we had to get to the church early.  It was bitterly cold outside, but otherwise a clear, sunny day.  I had changed from more weather appropriate attire to a dress and a bright blue piano shawl we bought in Spain last January.  Actually, only my feet got really cold.  I had strappy, sparkly sandals with no hose.  But they looked prettier and were more comfortable than the black pumps I have, which make me walk like an old lady.

We had rehearsed the song two days prior and got the sound system all set up.  I was able to sing it from memory then and it sounded good, though one never knows how things will turn out when there are people in attendance.  Of course, as we left the church, a big wad of snow fell off the church roof and I got the feeling it was my dad throwing a snowball at me.  That’s the kind of thing he would have done.  I kind of knew it was going to be alright after that.  Sure enough, it was.  I stepped up to the mic, my nerves alive and buzzing.  At first, my voice came out a bit tremulous because I was nervous and emotional, but then I relaxed a bit and it turned out very nicely.  I think my dad was probably pleased.

My cousin, Karen, also performed.  She sang “Psalm 23”, accompanying herself on her guitar.  I wish I could play guitar, especially as well as she does.  There was also supposed to be a rendition of “Amazing Grace”, but apparently none of the musicians in the house got the message.  The pastor joked “The Lord wills otherwise.” when no one answered the call to perform that standard during the service.

My hilarious Uncle Carl introduced sort of an “open mic” for anyone and everyone who wanted to talk about my dad.  Carl was followed by my Uncle Ed, who needed no mic to tell us a hilarious story about growing up with my dad.  Several other people came up to speak, including Zeke Finney, a fellow VMI grad and choir member at the church I grew up in.  His wife used to occupy me during church services because my mom was always playing the organ and my dad was always in the choir.  My sisters were, by then, mostly out of the house.  Two of my sisters spoke.  One recited a poem she wrote.  Another simply stole the show with heartfelt and funny comments about our dad.  I got to see Sue, my lone cousin on my mom’s side.  She lives nearby.  Last time I saw her was at my wedding in November 2002.  She looked good– and tiny, like my sister Becky.

After the service, there was a reception and I got to meet more of my dad’s friends.  Another sister presented a very moving video about my dad’s life.  There were a lot of photos in the movie that I’d never seen before and a few that I contributed.  I would have added a few more, but all my pictures are in storage in Texas.

At the end of the video, we got our rendition of “Amazing Grace”… it came from my dad himself.  My sister found a recording of him performing it.  It had been years since I had last heard his singing voice.  I resisted the urge to put my fingers in my ears and am a better person for it.  Some things never change.  In all seriousness, it was very fitting that we had a recording of him singing.  Music was one of my dad’s true passions.  I think he passed that passion on to me.

Bill takes in the view from the hillside where my dad is now at rest.

My Georgia cousins…

The whole family… minus about 20 or so.

A rare shot with my sisters.  They look great… I probably need to lay off the German beer.  But at least I have a pretty smile on my face!

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Our big trip to Virginia… part two!

In case you weren’t paying attention last week, we had quite a bit of rare weather.  Bill and I got caught in the middle of a Nor’easter, which started as we were getting out of the DC area on Wednesday.  We left early in the morning hoping to avoid traffic hell, but by the time we got to the outskirts of the DC metropolitan area, there were big fat snowflakes falling.  The snow wasn’t too bad, though.  It made everything pretty.  There were a few accidents, including a jackknifed tractor trailer, on the way south to Natural Bridge.  Most people, by and large, were safe though.  And I didn’t see a whole lot of people braving the storm anyway.

We stopped in a convenience store so I could have a potty break.  While we were in there, I noticed someone wiped a huge booger on the door of the bathroom stall.  I was almost tempted to photograph it for posterity, but I decided it was better to be a grown up.

I decided to photograph this sign instead.

I don’t remember the last time I saw snow in Virginia during November.

We went straight to the Kroger once we got to Lexington and picked up some snacks and drinks for the festivities at my aunt’s and uncle’s house.  I picked up chips, cookies, beer, wine, water, and soda.  Evidently, I picked up one too few soda packs, since the cashier told us we could use a Kroger card to get a deal.  I pissed off a woman behind us when I dashed off to get another 12 pack of soda.  Doing that saved us $11.

The Kroger parking lot…

We were among the first to arrive for the festivities and were greeted by my cousin, Brad.  Brad and I used to live in the same neighborhood when we were very young.  We fought like cats and dogs, too.  But he was hard at work at Granny’s house and even helped Bill when he got stuck trying to get out of the driveway.  One nice thing about getting older is getting past all the stupid childhood fights.  I can say that now, Brad and I get along just fine!

My late Granny’s house is a very homey place.  There’s a creek that runs in front of the house where generations of kids have played, including yours truly.  There’s another creek that runs perpendicular to the one that goes in front of the house.  Most of us have fallen in either creek at least once or twice in a lifetime.  I have many great memories of visiting.  I love to leave the window open at night and listen to the creek rush by.  And I love to remember all the many times my cousins and I vandalized the closet under the stairs when we used it as an impromptu clubhouse.  I bet there aren’t too many homes as well loved as my Granny’s house has been.

Me and Granny at her house in August 1972.  I was maybe 6 weeks old…

Someone in my family has lived in that house since 1937.  It started out as a rental and was later purchased by my grandfather, who ended up selling off most of the 55 acres he’d bought with the house.  Later, my Uncle Brownlee and his wife, Gayle, bought the house.  I hope it will pass on to someone in the family when it comes time for them to pass the torch.  It’s a very special place.

There was good attendance this year at the reunion.  Only a few folks were missing.  Consequently, things got very crowded in the house as people piled in for dinner and football watching.  I didn’t see a lot of game playing going on.  Usually, someone starts a card game or a horseshoe match.  This year, I think the weather was too crappy and bitterly cold.  By the time it cleared up a bit, people were on their way home.

Thanksgiving dinner was a huge affair with plenty of food brought by relatives.  My favorite part was the corn casserole, which I think my cousin Clark’s wife, Chris, made.  That stuff is like crack!  Someone else made a killer batch of macaroni and cheese.  It’s not quite as good as mine, but it was pretty damn good.

We didn’t stay too long for Thanksgiving because the house was really crowded and I had to sing the next day.  We had our memorial for my dad and I was determined not to screw it up.

Granny on a motorcycle…  

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Virginia

Our Virginia trip is all booked…

We will be leaving on Tuesday, November 25th, spending a night at the Embassy Suites in Herndon, Virginia, right near Dulles Airport, and then renting a car and driving to Rockbridge County.  I had some trouble picking our lodging for the Rockbridge part of our trip.  For many years, my family stayed at the Natural Bridge Hotel.  My uncle used to run it and we got insanely cheap rates.  In the years that he ran the hotel, it was in fairly decent shape, even if it was also a bit dated.  In the years after he left, the hotel sort of fell into disrepair.

The last time I stayed at the Natural Bridge Hotel was in July 2007, when my 100 year old grandmother died.  I booked a room there because it was pet friendly.  Bill was deployed to Iraq at the time and I didn’t have the time or money to arrange to board the dogs.  I ended up having a fairly miserable stay, mainly because the hotel was sort of in disrepair and the family dynamics were kind of weird.  Anyway, after an uncomfortable night, I ended up leaving early in the morning on the day after Granny’s funeral and vowed that would be my last stay there.  Although now that it looks like the hotel is in better hands, I might reconsider.  The Natural Bridge is about to be turned into a state park anyway.

Since the Natural Bridge Hotel is pretty much the only game in town in the Natural Bridge area, besides a really disgusting motel and a campground, I looked at getting a room in Lexington.  But Lexington’s offerings kind of suck, too.  I mean, there are plenty of two star motels and there’s a Hampton Inn, which is a bit overpriced.  They just reopened the Robert E. Lee Hotel, which is right in downtown Lexington, but that was going for about $200 a night.

Ultimately, I decided to book us at The Hummingbird Inn in Goshen.  The Hummingbird Inn has the distinction of being the very first place Bill and I stayed as husband and wife.  Bill’s mom paid for us to have two nights there post nuptials.  At the time, the Inn was run by a British couple… or maybe they were half British.  I know the wife was from England and she was an excellent cook.  A few months after our stay, they sold the inn to the people who own it now.  As our anniversary is also in November, it seems kind of fitting that we’d stay there for Thanksgiving.  It’s not as close to the festivities as Lexington is, but at least it will provide us a good way to stay away from the drama.

The Hummingbird Inn is a beautiful old house next to train tracks.  It is liable to get noisy.  But it’s also right next to a rambling creek.  Goshen is kind of a special place for Bill and me, anyway.  We went there during Labor Day weekend in 2001, the week before 9/11.  At the time, I was in grad school and Bill had just started a job at the Pentagon.  It was kind of our second in person date…  remember, we met online.  Our first in person date was in Columbia, South Carolina, which is where I was in school and Bill was doing TDY.

Goshen Pass is a really beautiful gorge and I had fond memories of visiting there as a child.  I suggested to Bill that we visit and go swimming.  We proceeded to have an amazing day enjoying a very natural swimming hole with insanely gorgeous scenery.  We had no idea that the world would change the following week.  We had no clue that Bill would actually be in the Pentagon on 9/11 and see up close and personal what terrorism looks like.

So since we’re celebrating 12 years in November, and we got married in Lexington and honeymooned in Goshen, it seems right to go to Goshen for Thanksgiving, even though it’s not so close to Granny’s house.  I think we will be pleased with our choice… and at least we’ll get a good breakfast out of the deal.  I hope we have decent weather so I can take some photos.  In the meantime, do yourself a favor and Google Goshen Pass.  It’s a very pretty place.

Meanwhile, we may also go somewhere in Europe to actually celebrate our anniversary, too…

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