WELCOME


~ The pieces are all sewn together, stitched with love.........and a quilt tells a story and the story is our past ~

The Arrowood family immigrated from England to Maryland in the 1700's. They went south, eventually settling in the mountains of North Carolina. Later , some went further south, into the Piedmont of North Carolina, in search of work and a better way of life.



I am in search of my family.

I search for those that came before me, and lived their lives as best they could. I am in search of their stories, how they lived, and how they loved.


I shared this love of seeking the past with my Dad, sharing each new finding with him, the thrill in his heart intermingling with mine. I continue this search in his honor, and hope to know these people of ours when I join up with them all in heaven.

~ Steve Lewis Arrowood 1932-2008 ~


Come with me, back to a simpler time and place. A place far removed from the hectic pace of today. To a time when life was hard, but the rewards were great. When your quality of life was determined by your own sweat, your own toil, and your own ingenuity.


Would you like a glass of sweet tea? Let's sit out on the porch where we will catch the sweetly scented breeze of summertime. Maybe Grandma will fry up some of her wonderful chicken... Time slows here.

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"We shape our lives not by what we carry with us, but what we leave behind."

~You live as long as you are remembered.~


"Our most treasured family heirlooms are our sweet family memories. " Author: Unknown


"But those who came before us will teach you. They will teach you from the wisdom of former generations."

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Arrowood Family

Saturday, August 7, 2010

More Than Just Her Name ~


He just won't let me drive anymore, he keeps his gas foot plastered to the floor.
I turn my head and gaze out longingly, as the cemeteries pass fast beside of me.


The headstones zip past at an alarming speed, and I try in vain to make them out, and read.
Once I stopped at every one I could find, and never once failed to find family of mine.


Now he has the wheel , and my choice has been taken away,
I sit there, all sad, and I can't just pout to get my way.

He has figured out my obsession and will no longer be a part,
for he knows that this genie bug has taken hold of my heart.


I feel the need to find them all and go to pay my respects,
but he thinks it is just the pictures that I want to try and collect.


I get a lump in my throat, looking down on those old stones,
and I wonder sometimes, if in this quest, I am really quite alone.


It is an addiction, just like all the rest, I want to find my story to tell.
I want to search them out and try to know them, and know them very well .


These people of mine lie in their graves, some so very close by.
I cannot just leave them, leave them there to quietly lie.


They are of me and I of them. a tiny cell of theirs within I carry.
I will still search and find them all, and among the headstones, I will lovingly tarry.


I may have 'her' dimple or maybe 'her' chin, I make look a bit the same,
But I will know her when we get to heaven, know more than just her name.

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