I access TV using a digital antenna because it is free on a relatively reliable signal. The upside is that KET offers a special variety of choices. BBC World News, Kentucky Edition and PBS NewHour is my preferred cocktail for evening media. Occasionally I stumble upon gold in my channel surfing and the series Headwaters by Appalshop is often the source.
This afternoon, I was able to catch some of “Justice in the Coal Fields” a 1995 documentary by Anne Lewis about the 1988 United Mine Workers (Virginia) strike against the Pittston Coal Company that explores a number of themes resonating for Kentucky, as well, including civil disobedience, right-to-work states, justice and the law. And, Appalachian history and culture.
Although dated in all aspects, the film’s interviews and images hit home for me. I do not know of any coal miners in our family, at least not yet in my research. It is more from the spirit and personalities of the people. The character and characters of the community, their sense of community – that is what I remember from my youth. I cannot yet articulate fully how but I am reminded of my family.
I am grateful there are resources featuring the history, both distant and recent, of the people of Appalachia and beyond. As I am working to create the threads of narrative about my ancestors, I appreciate how these stories are captured. Perhaps even one person will discover someday a missing piece of their own genealogical pursuits in what Appalshop has made available. And, you can stream and purchase episodes of the Headwaters series from KET Passport and from Appalshop.org.
Help with restoration of these treasures
Historic flooding in late July 2022 brought catastrophic damage to the resources held by Appalshop in Whitesburg, KY. Efforts are underway to recover as much as can be saved. Learn more and consider sending contributions to: Appalshop in Whitesburg, KY 41858
that.Kentucky.girl
A 6th-generation Kentuckian on a journey to find out – follow along
Headstone for Eliza Jane Murphy Corman, located at Corman Cemetery, Bethel Pike.
ELIZA
WIFE OF
SURBER CORMAN
BORN
APRIL 2 1872
DIED
JULY 16 1896
This is a sad kind of realization. If this woman, Eliza Jane Murphy Corman, had not died prematurely, tragically – I would not be here (at least not as I am in this form). In being a mother and protecting the life of her child, she died. She sacrificed by instinct is my guess.
Eliza Jane Murphy was born 1872 in Pleasant Hill, Mercer County, KY. She was 16yo when she married 21yo Surber Corman in Wilmore, KY, January 1889. Their first child, Minnie Pearl, was born March 31, 1890, followed by Roy Sidney in January 1893.
Surber Harden Corman with first wife Eliza Jane Murphy
The story goes that 3yo Roy fell into Jessamine Creek, that ran across their family farm, and in attempting to retrieve him, Eliza – who was pregnant with their third child – fell in but saved Roy. She died in July 1896, as did the unborn child, from complications caused by the accident. After only 7 years of marriage, Surber was a widower at 28yo with two young children.
At 34yo, Surber married his second wife, 20yo Martha Jane Bradshaw, in 1901. These were my great-grandparents.
You might say educating is in my blood and these women were paramount in my own formation. Educators, living their Christian service and love instilled by the Shaker-educated youth of Martha Jane Bradshaw Corman, mother, and three of her daughters – Madeline, Viola & Fanny Dean. Two of the sisters taught school at the elementary and middle grades in northern Kentucky while the other, my grandmother, taught in one-room school houses throughout the Bluegrass region of Kentucky, specifically Jessamine County, with names like Sweet Home and Oak Hill.
Fully enjoying summers traveling, they invited the grandchildren-age generation of cousins on their annual summer trips across all these United States. The ORIGINAL aunt camp (*credit: S. C. Mathews – I see you Pebby). And, the original Ya-Ya’s, as we say in our family.
Photo: (left to right) Iva Madeline Corman, Martha Jane Bradshaw Corman, Viola Josephine Corman, and Fanny Dean Corman Mathews, my grandmother.
I remember visiting Frankenmuth, Michigan, as well as author and artist Gwen Frostic’s studio/visitor center in Benzonia. I have a beautiful collection of her work gifted to me, purchased by me and bequeathed to me through the estates’ transitions. It is on that trip with Aunt Vi & Aunt Madeline that I began with Christmas tree ornaments collecting as mementos from my travels.
It feels as though caring is woven in my DNA and was nurtured along by simply spending time with my great-aunts. My grandmother passed when I was in 4th grade living in Pittsburgh, PA, and my memories with her are fuzzy. When I look around my home, I pause to appreciate the things from my family, much of which ties back to them. Any artifact’s value perhaps felt priceless only to me, ultimately. It is the STORIES I crave and these hand-me-downs bring the memories and my soul to rejoice. I want to protect and preserve.
Maybe my heart’s call as service to others honors my ancestors, lives out in legacy. I can confirm I am a lifelong learner – and, most often the hard way. But, if it comes from the heart, is it ever wrong? Let me tell you, if you keep with these ancestry storylines I’m putting down – along the way, your heart will ache. Fair warning.
But, let’s first take a moment to reflect with some levity. Where my educators AT?!
Check out this excerpt from my WKU folk studies professor William Lynwood Montell’s 2011 publication, Tales from Kentucky One-Room School Teachers:
In 1872, the Kentucky State Legislature formally mandated its nine “Rules for Teachers”:
Teachers each day will fill lamps, trim the wicks and clean chimneys.
Each morning teacher will bring a bucket of water and a scuttle of coal for the day’s session.
Make your pens carefully. You may whittle nibs to the individual taste of the pupils.
Men teachers may take one evening each week for courting purposes, or two evenings a week if they attend church regularly.
After ten hours in school, the teachers may spend the remaining time reading the Bible or any other good books.
Women teachers who marry or engage in unseemly conduct will be dismissed.
Every teacher should lay aside from each pay a goodly sum of his earnings for his benefit during his declining years so that he will not become a burden on society.
Any teacher who smokes, uses liquor in any form, frequents pool or public halls, or gets shaved in a barber shop will give good cause to suspect his worth, intention, integrity and honesty.
The teacher who performs his labor faithfully and without fault for five years will be given an increase of twenty-five cents per week for his pay, providing the Board of Education approves.
Okay, with so much to unpack here, is it even possible? Take a moment. Read it again. Read it aloud to someone. I wonder how much of this was still codified when my grandmother was a one-room school house teacher almost 50 years later.
Have you heard the folklore surrounding a visiting cardinal? There is a tale that the spirits of our dearly departed visit us in the living world as the beautiful Cardinal. I have always paused in those moments when spotting a Cardinal to say aloud “Hello Cutters” or “Hello Granddaddy” depending on their feathers.
Just now, as I enjoyed a bright breakthrough in organization and expression of this genealogy project over the past two days, I am feeling an energy vibration of satisfaction. Of renewed vigor and inspiration.
With that, as I opened the door for Raj to go out, there alighted together a male and a female Cardinal. He, with his brightly colored presence, landed first and seemed reserved. She, on the other hand, in all her monochrome earthy brown feathered amazingness, was singing with intensity and purpose. She had much to express.
I paused in the stillness that takes over when you dare not cause any disturbance, full of wishing they would remain. Sure enough, they bounced into various spots without leaving the porch.
I asked them “So, am I doing right by you? Am I on the correct path?”
The shared moment was all the affirmation I needed. Believe whatever you will, I believe in signs. In God winks. I believe my visitors came by today to offer encouragement.
They flew away before I could get a picture. It lives in my mind’s eye.
that Kentucky girl 