Spot, the Faynes’ farm dog, from my grandmother’s youth. Violet Fayne and her family lived in and around Little Hickman along Sugar Creek Pike in Jessamine County. She was the middle sibling of the five children and was born in June 1913. If she was still living at home when this photograph was taken, it would be circa 1924-1929.
Cutters came to stay with my parents while recuperating from broken bones after a fall. As it turns out, she came back more than once from broken bones. Would you believe it was in the 90s of her lifetime, though? Truth.
My grandmother, Cutters, lived to be 101. Only the final year to 18-months was limited by physical constraints. Her years between 1977 to 2013 were lived independently within community after Granddaddy died May 1977. This original aging-in-place home support network she inspired, and to which she contributed, is but one of the blessings from Jessamine County to me.
Only a small number of times she needed assistance in recuperation and mobility. Her children, Phyllis & Herbert, took good care of Cutters, their Mother. The love shared in her family I can only hope to honor, in turn. I have learned to look for ways to live her lessons again. Practicing loving service to others. She loved Jesus.
In this image, Cutters is seated in a recliner with pillows reinforcing her resting collar bone and shoulder. She holds a 21st century mobile device in her Roman chiseled masterpiece of hands and somehow that irony works. In her other hand, she is connected by mouth to a red and white striped peppermint candy cane. In Burberry wrapped and earphones in full effect. To the uninitiated, I say sorry. That so many will never know how amazingly this woman’s life impacted others. Thankfully, I am one who witnessed and can relive stories with my own loved ones.
With her hands, she worked making food and a home for family, friends, homemakers and those in need. This included her elderly father in his widowed years. She prepared fresh-from-the-farm meals, with green beans, corn, tomatoes and more. With her hands, she endured. She held the dying body of her first born child.
Those hands have richer lives all their own, what stories they could tell and energy they emit even now only in a photograph. And, the typing fingers of those same hands would let you know in no uncertain terms if she did not approve of something you shared on Facebook. Yes, she was active on Facebook. And that was also after she was 90yo.
Clyde McQuerry (22 years old) married Violet Fayne (17 years old) on December 24, 1930 in Jessamine County, KY.
The phrase “don’t make ’em like they used to” comes to mind. I look at these young faces and see the beginning of a love story that spanned nearly a century. Look at their arms, hands. Entwined and naturally fitted together. A metaphor for their lives. Even after Clyde died from cancer in 1977, Cutters kept their connection a daily practice. She wrote to him in her diaries, everyday for 35 years until she could no longer see well enough to write. She reached 100 years before that happened.
Both families were members of Wesley Chapel on Sugar Creek Pike, Cutters was born next door to their church, which is where they met, although they did attend different schools. The McQuerrys lived on a large, likely multi-generational farm south on the banks of the Kentucky River. Up the hill from there on Sugar Creek Pike was (and is) Wesley Chapel and neighboring Fayne family. Her utter goodness must have shot through him like a lightning bolt. Or, what if it was a slow burn, like they played together as kids? Both born and raised in a rural church community, it is within the realm of possibility. (I will ask Daddy Mac & ‘Tuh.)
She carried a quiet wholeness and holiness, fingers ever in motion creating something for sharing like legendary bread and crocheted afghans. Cutters, as I knew Violet much later in her life, had this look at times of a far away thought. Her pause was nearly always just to the point you felt the need to pick up a dropped thread. You’d even inhale to speak, then suddenly, she released, nailing the reply. She reflected before speaking her wisdom and I suppose it was by the lessons along the way. She knew EXACTLY what was going on but she had to reflect and, in doing so, to compel you the same. In her presence you’d welcome the pause. She also delivered zingers with impeccable timing. Very clever. It was fun to giggle with Cutters.
The Cutters I knew also carried a sadness reminiscent of long-suffering as in The Bible. She carried it selflessly, though. She could experience joy and you can be sure if you were in her presence the light of that joy was always bright and it shone on you. Always, even in pain and brokenness, she spread light. And, she knew brokenness.
But, in this moment, Clyde, my grandfather at 22 years-old, and Violet, my grandmother at 17 years-old, were in love and embarking together on the future. Christmas Eve. It was a Wednesday. It was 1930. Was it magical? How I hope there may have been a photo I might discover. When did Clyde know she was an angel walking among us? Did he whisper to her “I want to marry you on Christmas?”
The McQuerry-Fayne marriage ceremony was conducted at the parsonage of Rhodes Thompson, minister of the Nicholasville Christian church. [NOTE: I would like to locate this minister’s home address in future research.] You might wonder why the wedding ceremony did not take place at their own church, nor with their own minister. I wonder about that, also. Maybe these “crazy kids” had a reason.
She had graduated from high school in the summer. She was a teenager, they were young’ns. So, you graduate high school and you plan to be married at Christmas? Don’t you wonder what the “kids” talked about then? Their connection to the outside world was through radio, newspapers, telegrams and word of mouth. The Wall Street Crash had occurred in October 1929 and now, one year later, people were IN the Great Depression. Also, prohibition was in effect, but I don’t think either of them drank alcohol ever.
In the photograph of four friends, you can see what looks like a buckboard in the corner, a fence and a large wooden gate. It reminds me of watching Little House on the Prairie growing up. Cutters liked to watch the TV show, also. I have a litany of “LHotP” stories. That Pa, though. More for another time.
Certificate of Person Performing Marriage Ceremony
TO BE DELIVERED TO PARTIES MARRIED
I, Rhodes Thompson, minister of the Nicholasville Christian Church or religious order of that name do certify that on the 24th day of December 1930 at Nicholasville Kentucky, under authority of a license issued by E. H. Fuller, Clerk of County Court of Fayette County (or city), State of Kentucky, dated the 23rd day of December 1930, I united Clyde McQuerry and Violet Fayne Husband and Wife in the presence of Arab Madilla Herrin(sp?), Henry Lester McQuerry Given under my hand this 24th day of December 1930.
Person Performing Ceremony, Sign Here – Rhodes Thompson
Title of Office – minister
Witnessed by two people: A. M. H. (need help deciphering what is both hard to read and completely unfamiliar) and Henry Lester McQuerry. Should I expect to see a vouchsafe for the bride (because I do)? Where is the implication for her parents’ permission in this process? Or, was that not a thing? Their minister and her family are not represented on the certificate. I mean, where were HER people? Where was Big Mother and Ol’Daddy?
Celebrating Christmas for me was never complete until going with family to “Cutters’ Christmas.” I would venture to guess any of the cousins would say the same. The annual tradition remained a deeply special occasion for decades and maybe that was how Violet chose to honor their special day and her love Clyde each year.
Merry Christmas Eve and Happy Anniversary to you, Clyde and Violet. May you be entwined around each other celebrating for eternity.
Imagery telling stories better than words.
I made a visit to the home place of four family generations just up the hill from Jessamine Creek spring sometime in the 1990s.
The camera I carried with me was disposable and, truthfully, might never have been processed to the light of day. (I believe I still have undeveloped Kodak 35mm rolls from my youth somewhere in my boxed packrat tendencies. The canister with lid tale-tale (but not always of the contents, iykyk.))
Fortunately, I took those pictures that day – long before the genealogy bug bit down or the common use of cellphones, for that matter. And, not long before the building was razed. It had fallen into disrepair and sadly is no more.
My memory of visits to the home I called “Uncle Johnny’s” began when a very young child. The more prevalent in memory are those visits with Cutters, my mother Phyllis’ mother. I may have visited Grandmother Mathews more often than I have memories but they followed my grandmother’s move into town when she sold the property to eldest child, her step-son John Shepherd Mathews. Johnny’s wife Nannie Katherine died way too young in September, 1974. He and their four daughters stayed on the farm. Cousin Susan is a sweet wealth of stories from her life on the farm.
This picture is the view at the back, and I believe an east-southeast-facing side of the house just above the kitchen. I THINK and my Dad will hopefully correct me when he reads this if not. A second-story bedroom above is where my cousin Angie and I had spent hours jumping out of a closet loft onto a bed.
At the time of this photo, the floor was strewn with remnants of the lives that had made this home along with leaves and other debris blown in from the outside through the missing window pane. Perhaps you can imagine pausing amongst the random relics, and glancing out an opening between peeling wallpaper and broken beams and witness the irony in its framing the exterior beauty of Kentucky blooming and a farmhouse in the distance.
If you came across Abandoned Kentucky (@Abandoned.ky), this would have been a perfect feature, had timing been different.
that Kentucky girl 