Gone But Never Forgotten

I think I can say that about many things in my life. But the past four days have been yet another collection for my memory books.

From all corners of the country, members of the Samples Family gathered at Mick and Donna Samples farm in Strange Creek ... lovingly called, McDonna farm. Second cousins to me, this beautiful couple know how to throw a party. In the middle of earth and sky, gospel and blue grass music floats through the trees and into every soul who steps out of their vehicle and onto this property that has been hewn out of forest and mountain.

As you know, I was mesmerized last year after having attended my first reunion. But this year, Michael and I traveled back and brought our son, Aaron. It was good to have my young'un there with us. A country boy, I knew he'd fall in love with the place. And he certainly did. Of course Daddy was there, sitting among the elders, swapping stories, remembering the old days, and sharing pictures from albums full of Samples relatives now passed on. Four wheelers roamed through the countryside and creeks and toured the places you can't get to by car or truck.

Sandy (who Daddy calls "Smiley") and her husband James Samples, greet family and friends with hugs and the sign-in book. Sandy records family members who show up every year, and that's a good thing. For a family reunion this size to go on every year, as this one has existed since the 1940's, records must be kept. It concerns me that the younger children I see roaming about, understand that this is not just a picnic they attend to make their grandparents happy. This is about family. Knowing who you are and where you came from.

So next year, the plan is to take more pictures, and have large family tree charts hanging where you can see how you fall into the tree. Possibly a quick history lesson about the Samples Family that goes back to the Revolutionary War. It may give you a sense of place and pride and knowing that the fellow you just met isn't a stranger anymore. He's your grandma's sister's second son. You see, it's all "relative." And if you have the least bit interest in your family, or even your state and the history of this country ... you have a clearer picture of where you fit in.

Well, this year I went back ... to Widen. If you've read the last story in my book, SOUTHERN FRIED WOMEN, you'll read about Widen and the violent coal strike in 1952 and '53. Though my story in the book is truly a love story woven amidst the violence, it rings of truth and peril for some who were there. I talked to many this weekend who vividly remember being there. Hearing the gunshots, witnessing the devastation that resulted.

One family member implied there are still folks seeking a healing, as that coal strike continues to separate some families in the area. Maybe my story will help. That and a little prayer may be the balm needed on those old wounds.

Widen is not the town I recall leaving as a child. Most of the buildings are gone now. Just a handful of families exist in the holler that was once a thriving coal camp. Daddy pointed out where the tipple used to be, the railroad, the Grille, and the bank. Just the cement steps of the YMCA are left. The rest is tall grass and weeds. There is no smell of coal and the gob piles are gone. I made Michael stop the truck and I got out and stood at the top of Widen hill. My eyes filled with tears as I imagined the strikers and their sons cutting off the only road in and out of the town.

When I stepped out in front of my grandma's old house, the houses around it are gone now. The wooden gate is gone, the road in front is paved, and the street is quiet. I closed my eyes and I stepped back in time. The pavement turned to dirt, the smell of burning coal penetrated my nostrils, and the sounds of old trucks and children playing in the streets made my heart leap. I heard the gate spring shut and slam its post. I imagined the time when the Casto's lived next door and we played in the coal dust roads catching fireflies until after dark. I remember when I could stand in front of Grandma's house and look all the way down the road to my Aunt Emogene's house.

But many roads in Widen are virtually gone now. Grown over with plant life native to the area. The sights and sounds of a town that once boomed and supported over 3,000 people is not only gone ... it's as if it never existed. I cried. How do we allow these towns to die? Who's going to tell our children what happened here?

Widen is a town gone ... but not forgotten.

Back at the reunion, I relayed my thoughts to some of the family. All of them have stories quite similar to mine, I found out. And though they may not have lived in Widen, they had their own hometown stories. Some still live in the towns they grew up in, others have moved north to Ohio, or south to Virginia. Or to other parts of the country and started over.

But every year, these people, this group of kin called the Samples Family, gathers yet one more time to remember. This year, Scott Lewis, son of Ocie Samples Lewis passed away during the festivities. It caused the reunion to understandably close early. Scott's homegoing was devastating to his precious wife, Velvie, and immediate family. Our hearts went out to them.

Scott and his wife stood in line in front of Michael and I earlier in the day as we gathered to fill our plates. His sweet wife mentioned that she remembered coming to my house at Christmas when I was a little girl. Then Scott put his arms around his wife and smiled and said, "this is my better half." He was with his family, his friends, and went from one reunion on earth to the next reunion in glory. I'm sure his mama all the Samples that had gone on before -- greeted him ... Michael, Aaron and I extend our deepest sympathy to the Lewis family.

Scott Lewis may be gone, but he will never be forgotten.

This reunion has given me a sense of belonging like nothing else I've ever experienced. These people of the mountains of West Virginia, men and women who worked the land, the coal mines, and the lumber mills ... have a place in my heart and will remain forever family. I'll be back again next year, to that patch of earth and sky and music in Strange Creek ... a place where time stands still and the members of the Samples Family come together once more to remember ...

Blessings to you and yours.