John Henry Arrowood ~ Son of Samuel JR

My mind drifted back, once again, up to those beautiful hills of Mitchell County, North Carolina.


I thought about the 'other' John Henry Arrowood, buried there in the Arrowood Cemetery in Poplar.


This John Henry was the son of Samuel Arrowood, Jr.

John Henry married a gal named Mattie Cooper and they had at least eight children that I have found so far.

I searched for anything really, thinking I could locate the final resting place for Mattie. I did not find her there in that tiny Arrowood Cemetery on the mountain of Green.


I typed in their names and up came an obituary for their daughter, Pearl Lee Arrowood. Pearl married a Robert Flowers. Sadly, Pearl passed away on the second anniversary of my Dad's  death, July 20, 2010.

She is buried at the Monte Vista Cemetery in Johnson City, TN. We passed by that huge cemetery on the way to find Uncle John Henry and I so wished for a week or so of time, just to go through it.



 I just knew that we had family buried there and of course, we do.



In Pearl's obituary was a wealth of clues. First, her descendant's names and those that survived her were listed there.


I saw that her sister Helen was still living and on a whim, I did a search on 'People' search and found a matching listing. Excited, I called the lady. I told her that we were related and what I was doing and she exclaimed.."Oh, you sound like my son, David". He is researching, too.

BOY HOWDY! was that ever exciting.


Turns out that David does search for the tree and is living in Knoxville, TN. I called him up and he has a bad case of pneumonia and could not talk much for coughing. Bless his heart.

He and I are Third Cousins! We exchanged just enough info to get us both excited. I hoped to see an email from him soon.


Well, the email came the very next morning and attached was a great photo of John Henry, wife Mattie Cooper Arrowood and two of their daughters, Pearl (back row) and Helen, the mother of David that I have spoken with.
 

You can sure see the Arrowood resemblence in John Henry.




Finding his grave atop that little mountain was thrilling and so was finally being able to put a face to his name.

Honeycutt Connection ~ Big Crabtree~ Estatoe

I have been searching recently for Mariah Elizabeth Arrowood Honeycutt.
She was the daughter of Samuel and Sarah Ellender Winters Arrowood .

My generation's Great Grand Aunt. She was closest the sibling, in age, to our Welzia;  a slightly older sister. The census records through the years, show her name as 'Mary Elizabeth', 'Mariah', 'Maria', and simply as 'Eliza'. Even as "Miriar". So the search is not made easy, with all those differences in names.

I found her marriage record to Joseph P. Honeycutt. They were married on October 21, 1877, in Mitchell County, North Carolina. Joseph was the son of Moses "Mosie" Honeycutt and Susannah "Sukie" Tipton.

Yes, the same Tipton family that our Correll family married into, the ones that first settled up in Cades Cove, Tennessee. Not too far from Happy Valley in Blount County.


Joseph and Mariah had at least seven kids that I have found records for.


Aaron Honeycutt , their son, was born July 31, 1880 and was a preacher man. He is buried at Big Crabtree Church Cemetery that I visited up in Estatoe. At the time, I did not know he was kin! I am just amazed at the path this search takes me on..I stood at his grave and took the picture of his headstone and remarked that 'those Honeycutt's married in, you know', grin.   I will go back and pay proper respects one day soon. Not even realizing, when I was there,  that he was my first cousin, twice removed!

Mariah and Joseph are found on the 1900 Census record, living in Harrell's Township, Mitchell County with six children , ranging from age 12 to age 1 year.

They had children: Susan, Aaron, Nathaniel, Russell, Lydia, Naomey, and Joseph.

Aaron's death record indicates:

Name: Aaron Honeycutt


Gender: Male


Age: 79


Birth Date: 31 Jul 1880


Birth Place: North Carolina, United States


Death Date: 3 Jan 1960


Death Location: Spruce Pine, NC Rt #2, Mitchell


Spouse's Name: Nancy Tolley


Father's name: Joe Honeycutt


Mother's name:   Miriar Arrowood

Aaron's death certificate states he was not seen by a doctor, but was believed to have been suffering from cancer.



It also states that he was a 'non-believer' in medical science, right on the death certificate, something I have never seen before .  May you rest in peace, cousin Aaron.

Sentimental Sunday ~ Prayer Meeting In the Sky

High above the ground, electrical and telephone poles and their connecting wires must seem to be made just for birds, like artificial trees with limbs that stretch on forever and ever. Sometimes a hundred birds or more will be stretched out along a wire, in a kind of high-tension convention.



As a child, I would look up at these birds, sitting there, all lined up on the wires, chatting.

I guess my sweet grandmother Maude, saw me gazing up at those birds and she told me what it was all about. Grandma's just know these things. The birds were attending prayer meeting and it is as simple as that.

I have never thought otherwise, after being told this fact by Grandma, bless her. Grandma just knew these sort of things.


When I told Russ that is really what they are doing up there, all lined up on the wires, he did look at me a little strange..But never mind. Prayer Meeting is definitely what it is all about.



My grandmother shared her sweet pearls of wisdom with me, all through my growing years, and for that I am eternally grateful.  She never failed to have an answer for every question, even thought I was called the "Thousand What?" Kid.



I cannot help but smile when I see a flock of birds lined up , perched high in the sky and making lots of noise. Sometimes one is seemingly separated from the rest, he may be one or two wires higher than most..well that is the preacher bird, no doubt. Big Smile.



How come a bird on a wire doesn't get shocked?


But if a bird (or maybe line worker) accidentally touches an electrical "ground" while in contact with the high-voltage wire, that will complete an electrical circuit. A ground is a 'region' of just about zero voltage. The earth, and anything touching it that can conduct current, is, in essence, the ground.

Like water flowing over a dam into a river, current surges through the bird (or person's) body on its way into the ground. Severe injury or death by electrocution is the result.

That's why a little squirrel can run across an electrical line, but sadly die when its foot makes contact with the (grounded) transformer on the pole at wire's end.

All that 'electrocution stuff ' never really entered my child's mind, back then. I was just interested in what the preacher bird was saying that kept them at such rapt attention.



I would lie on my back chewing on a blade of sweet grass, and contemplate it all.


Can't you just about smell that field of sweet grass growing?
Can't you see the lazy clouds on a summer afternoon, just floating on by?


Come with me and we will go to one of those outdoor 'prayer meetings'.

I still wonder what that preacher bird is saying...

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.

**************************************************

A Journey Thru Time ~ Mount Olivet Church

The sunny afternoon was a delight; nice , but not too warm. The tiny white framed church's doors and windows were flung wide open, beckoning us to come on inside.

 A service at the tiny Mount Olivet church is a sweet, wonderful, inspiring experience. The wooden planks in the floor are rippled and wavy, the small slatted wooden walls are showing their age, but the stories that old wood could tell us, would be amazing.




The windows were once again propped open with planks, and the cool springtime breeze wafted past me in the pew. An occasional bumble bee floated in on the breeze, but I figured all were welcome here.

The bees politely stayed up in the high ceiling area and left us worshippers alone.



The oil lamps are positioned around the perimeter of the room. I was told they used to have a larger lantern to light the night services. I would have loved to have attended one of those!



This tiny country church first opened it's doors way back in 1879. It is on the Historical Registry as the 'only remaining one room wooden Methodist church' in Gaston County.



The winds came some time back,  and they blew this tiny church nearly off her foundation but she still stands firm. The rocks were replaced with bricks and mortar and she remains where she belongs. Keeping her place in history and firmly standing where she will, hopefully, well into the future.



There are plans underway to keep this tiny church restored and the cemetery kept up with, as well.

Contributions to this cause are always accepted. If you wish to donate to the preservation of this tiny church attached to our family and to my heartstrings, just contact Judy Shannon at 704-867-4713.



This year, Joe Carpenter presided over the memorial service and Reverend Richard Cloninger gave the sermon. It was a beautiful service.



Old timey hymns were raised to the glory of the Lord, with the help of Wilma Craig, playing the old style pump organ. We all sang heartily with Wilma kindly requesting that we limit the number of verses sung on each hymn, because her leg was 'plain giving out' pumping that old organ. Grin.

It just doesn't get any more 'old-timey' than that, folks.

I took in the sights and smells of the wonderful old church ,as we sat there on those scarred wooden benches.

I let my mind travel back in time to a simpler place, when life was slower paced. I think I would have enjoyed living in that time, but I would have definitely missed  the air-conditioning.

I met a man after the service that beamed when I spoke to him. He glowed with love for the place and you could tell how special it was to him. He recalled coming to services as a child with his grandmother and he showed me the wooden cross that sat on the altar in front of the pulpit. He had made it himself in shop class , years ago and donated it to the church. It was lovely.

An old framed portrait of Jesus hangs on the wall,  behind the pulpit.

 The spirit of our Lord was surely in that place.



The average age of those attending this service was about 75, I would say. This is a sad fact to relay. The ones that truly love this place are getting older, and we are losing them one by one. I heard of a number of those connected to the church that have passed in just the last year. I was among the youngest ones there. We are the ones that will carry the torch forward for this tiny church. I do not want this torch to be laid by the wayside. I consider this place my heritage, too.


I spoke with Wilma Craig, who has vast knowledge of the history of this tiny church, about our Welzia and his possible role in this church. He is not officially listed among those that pastored here, but I feel sure that he must have preached here a time or two. His heart was surely here, or he would not have wanted to be laid to rest here.

I went out after service and paid my respects to him and Isabell..as well as Great grandma Sarah Ellen Winters Arrowood. Surely they were all smiling down from heaven, watching the service from above.


The crowd gathered after the service outside, inside the white picket fence that surrounds the cemetery.

They served cookies and lemonade to all in attendance.

I thought it was lovely to gather among those long gone, in fellowship.

I made my way among the stones, looking for a Maypop vine. Dad loved to come here to pick those Maypops, but it is a tad early for those, I guess.

A wonderful old timey Sunday afternoon....sigh...