~ 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.


"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."


Arrowood Family

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Grandpa's Lifetime ~ The Tenth Little Pig

Sitting at my grandparent's side has always been on of my most treasured childhood memories.
Your parents are just so busy with "getting on with living" and they just don't have the time to reminisce like your grandparent's do. So children naturally migrate to the grandparents with more time for the little ones.

The stories they told were of another time and place, one much different from the one that I was growing up in and in my mind's eye, I was transported right there. With each story and scene described, I was there, right beside them both.

My grandparents were a wealth of stories.

My Aunt relayed one such story that I had not heard before. 
In the 1930's , when the Great Depression had it's grip on the heart of America, times were hard.

My grandfather raised chickens, cows and an occasional pig, in order to feed his family and make ends meet.

Gastonia was not all that 'country' at that time,  but country enough that it was allowed within the city limits to raise up chickens.

He lived not three miles from downtown Gastonia.

Now, sitting at my dear Aunt's side, is as close as I can get to those wonderful old stories once told by Grandpa.

She told of a pig , a sow, that Grandpa raised that had 10 piglets. The children oohed and aahed over the piglets, as kids will do, (this one included)  and soon each and every one had a name.  Small hands just could not keep away from those little pigs.

Grandpa warned them to not get too attached  to the biggest and fattest of the piglets.

That tenth little pig was going to the preacher. It was how things were done then.
You are supposed to tithe to the church 'one tenth', you know. It's the Christian thing to do.

So those little piglets were hugged and loved and carried about, but the fattest one was held aside, special.

Imagine that world for just a moment and allow yourself a smile.
Now, imagine that grunting little pink pig in the offering plate next Sunday morning. Grin.