My Roots...My Foundation

Back in the early 1990s, I set off on a search for my family history. It was an extremely interesting and informative journey.

My roots from relatively recent history can be found in the coal-rich hills of southeastern Kentucky. Both of my parents and my oldest sister were born there, as were their parents.

I treasure the following photo; it was taken around 1920 and shows my grandfather, either on his way to work or having just come home from the coal mine (note the carbide lamp on the brim of his cap), along with a few of his children. The young one in his arms is my father, at around age two I would guess.

My great-grandfather also was born, lived and died in those Kentucky hills, but unfortunately my genealogical search ended with my great-great-grandfather. I found him living in Kentucky as a young man, but could not trace his life back further to his birthplace, hard as I tried. Rumor has it he came there from North Carolina, but I could not find evidence to support that claim.

Looking back to those Kentucky hills, I find it gratifying to know I come from good, hard-working stock—people that etched out a livelihood by risking their lives going underground day after working day. Knowing that fact makes the heavy traffic of my commute to a warm, comfortable office seem much less problematic.

Let’s get even more basic, I keep a photo of a “back house” in one of our 3 bathrooms to remind me of how easy I have things today.

There’s nothing like the smells, the little creatures, the cold seat and the necessary walk to a back house to help you appreciate the comforts of home and to make all those petty problems of life melt away.