He Found a Hand and Part of a Leg

Shady spot is gone

On the evening of December 10, 2021, an EF4 tornado blasted through parts of western Kentucky. Not since the Great Ice Storm of 2009 has our area taken such a devastating hit. Those of us untouched by the tornado watched helplessly as weather authorities pleaded for residents in one town after another to take shelter. “This is a tornado emergency,” they implored people. “Get to your safe place NOW.” Unfortunately for many, their shelters couldn’t withstand the nearly 200 miles per hour winds. One week later and the death toll stands at 77. It is now the deadliest tornado in Kentucky history.

Shady spot is gone

I stayed away from the affected sites for the first several days. Viewing or taking photos of someone else’s misfortune doesn’t sit well with me. I understand the media has to document the tragedy. Their photos are all I really need to see to understand the heartache people are going through. And people need to know what can happen so they can be better prepared for the future.

So, when I did venture out to see for myself, I headed to a secluded rural area that has long been a favorite–Land Between the Lakes. There’s a place there, a backroad really, that is seldom traveled. In summer the trees meet overhead so that it’s always shady and cool. There’s a stream that rarely dries up, and the spot is filled with ferns and birdsong. For me, there is no more peaceful place on earth. I have passed many afternoons in that tranquil spot. And though I have taken photos of it in spring and posted them to social media, I’m always careful not to reveal the location of “my” spot.

Insulation in tree miles from tornado's path

Imagine my shock when my worst fears were realized. Suddenly, around a bend, the road disappeared under an avalanche of tree trunks. The entire area is oddly light now–there are no trees left standing to block the sun. It is entirely open, laid waste. You can make out the rolling hills now, where before you could only see a few dozen yards into the thick undergrowth. I sat for a few minutes, then snapped some photos. It was eerily quiet. No birds, no sounds of anything moving under all those trees. How many wild animals died in this storm?

Giant trees uprooted by tornado

A favorite spot after the tornado went through

LBL before the storm

The same spot just a few weeks ago

With nothing to see but downed trees, and further access completely blocked, I decided to go down into the “Trace” to see where the tornado crossed LBL. I didn’t have to go far. Just south of the north station you begin to see debris and hear chain saws. There were many utility workers out clearing trees and working on power lines. For miles on either side of the tornado’s path, there is debris high up in the trees. Sometimes just a plastic bag, more often a twisted piece of corrugated metal or insulation.

Road disappears under debri

I also saw something unexpected. The shoreline of Kentucky Lake is piled high with all manner of floating trash. Parts of a dock, wood from homes and businesses, styrofoam, and many other things that were unidentifiable bob up and down in the water. God only knows how much debris that couldn’t float is now at the bottom of the lake.

Debris along Kentucky Lake

I pulled over to take a couple of photos. A man stood by his truck watching the repairs. He told me his daughter lives in Dawson Springs–another town, like Mayfield, that took a direct hit. She’s okay, though her house is gone. The man (I didn’t get his name) said she told him her neighbor found a hand and part of a leg on his property. She said the leg and hand were obviously not from the same person.

“How awful,” was all I could manage to say. He said property owners were being told to get on their four-wheelers and look all over their property for missing persons. To search the woods, in the tops of trees, and even in the ponds. I just shook my head. The things ordinary people were being asked to do, the things they were seeing, would likely scar them for life. And just how, I wondered, are they going to find people, animals, or lost belongings under all those trees? There are probably things under those piles that will remain lost for a long, long time.

Trees lie broken and twisted

I started to leave but the man had one last horrible story. He said he knew a farmer that had a herd of Black Angus cattle. He had divided the herd before Friday, putting some in one pasture and some in another. The tornado blew all the cattle from both pastures into a spot nearly a mile away. They were found together in that one place–all dead of course. We forget sometimes that it wasn’t only humans affected by the storm.

I thought about everything I had seen and heard during my very brief time at the spot where the tornado crossed LBL. Then I tried to imagine the 225 continuous miles of that destruction. I couldn’t do it. There’s just too much. But I do know this: Just as we recovered from that awful ice storm we will recover from this. There will be scars on the land and scars on the people–both physically and mentally.

To this day I still get nervous if there’s any mention of ice in our forecast. And there are places I hike in LBL where downed trees from the ice storm remain. And now it will be so with tornado watches and warnings. They were always scary. Now they will be downright terrifying.

In time the trauma will pass. We will mourn our dead, rebuild as best we can, and prepare for the next storm.

May it be a long time coming.

Kentucky’s Historic Ice Storm

For most of us the painful memories of January, 2009 are indelible. It was the worst weather catastrophe to hit our area (so far) in the 21st century. I won’t go into a long story here about what it was like. I’ll let my photos tell the story. Besides, most people in Western Kentucky have their own horror stories.

But I will just say this. It wasn’t just the inconvenience of not having power. Or not being able to charge a cell phone. Of having to boil water–or worse, not having any water at all.

It wasn’t just the fact that you had to drive to another county to get food, gasoline, or kerosene for heaters and lamps. It wasn’t the run on batteries, or putting up with relatives huddled on your couches. It wasn’t the fact that we had no power for 19 days (at least at our house), or had no hot showers.

It wasn’t even the canned food heated on a kerosene stove or an outdoor grill.  Or the expense of buying a generator only to watch it blow up after an hour.

No, it wasn’t any of that when you get right down to it.  It was this: People died. Animals died. And we lost–at one estimate–300,000 mature trees in Kentucky alone.

300,000 trees. It’s almost unbelievable. And yet, for those of us who will never, EVER  forget the eery sound of trees breaking and crashing in the night, it’s entirely believable.

I recall my first hike in Land Between the Lakes after the ice storm. It was March. All the hiking and biking trails were covered with fallen trees and limbs. You couldn’t go more than a few feet without encountering a large tree knocked over in its prime. Most of them never recovered, of course. To this day you can see evidence all around of the devastation that was the Ice Storm of 2009. May we never have another.

Kentucky's Historic Ice Storm Five Year Anniversary - We lost so many trees
Kentucky’s Historic Ice Storm Ten Year Anniversary – We lost so many trees

Continue reading “Kentucky’s Historic Ice Storm”

My Many Wonderful Aunts & Uncles

In honor of National Aunt and Uncle’s Day  (Wednesday, July 26),  some memories of my many aunts and uncles.

(L to R) J.B., Russell, Johnny, Margie, Eddy, Lena, Tony, Holly, Kinny, Edna, Billy, Ginny
(L to R) J.B., Russell, Johnny, Margie, Eddy, Lena, Tony, Holly, Kinny, Edna, Billy, Ginny

First up, the Kingstons. Grandpa and Grandma Kingston had 12 children. One of them was my dad, of course.  I was fortunate to interact with all his brothers and sisters when I was growing up, some more than others. They were spread out from Kuttawa and Eddyville, to Louisville and Indianapolis. In later years some “came home” to Kuttawa, where I was fortunate enough to get to know them better, even though by then I was living in Virginia and only saw them during visits home. Beginning with the oldest, here are some memories. Pardon me if I get the birth order wrong, and forgive me also for including only the “blood” relatives. If I included all the aunts and uncles by marriage I would still be writing this.

Edna–The first of the 12 Kingston children, Edna was for me a beacon for what was possible. When I was just a child she showed an interest in me, always asking about my grades and complimenting me every chance she got. Edna is a person who likes to see all of her family and friends do well. Always attractively dressed, makeup and hair intact, she would chew gum and crack jokes. Edna loves to laugh. She had one of the first Ford Mustangs, which we kids gawked at in awe.  When I was still a teen, Edna invited me to come to Louisville for a visit. I made the drive up and right away Edna wanted to take me to the mall and buy me some clothes. We went in one shop, but we couldn’t find a shirt with sleeves to fit my gangly long arms. Apparently Edna didn’t like the snooty look of the salesperson, for she looked at her and said, “We usually have all his clothes tailor-made.” And putting her arm around me she steered me away with a wink.  She had my back and it felt good. The next summer Edna and I piled into my VW bug and drove to Clearwater, Florida, to visit some wealthy friends she had made during her successful real estate career. We spent days out on the Gulf of Mexico in their cruiser. What a fantastic time it was. We never had a harsh word or argument. On the way back through Georgia we stopped near Macon at a fruit stand.  A little old black man wearing a straw hat was selling peaches. Edna asked him if the peaches were grown in Georgia, and I’ll never forget the way he looked at her and answered, “Yassum, these here peaches wuz raised in Gawja, they wuz picked in Gawja, and iffen you buy ’em they’s gonna be sold in Gawja.” We still laugh about that today. Edna began calling me “Wadie” when I was very young, and still does so today. Always cheerful, always fun, her arms and fingers covered in jewelry, Edna is one in a million.

J.B.–J.B. Kingston, whom Grandma often referred to as “Jake,” lived on a small farm down the road from us on Panther Creek. It was J.B. who hung a goat from a branch one 4th of July weekend, slitting its throat, which drained into a bucket below. That memory, plus another one of Grandpa Kingston and I herding a cow down to meet J.B.’s bull are two of my earliest (and pervasive) memories. From my youngest years I recall J.B. driving by our house on the way to church, which they seldom missed. Later that afternoon we would sometimes join him and his family for lunch at Grandma’s. Always shaved and smartly dressed, his hair slicked back and combed, he and Grandpa would talk farm as they ate. I remember J.B. as a good father and a decent man. He is missed.

Tony–Tony was a big guy with a thick head of dark hair and a beautiful smile. I saw him only at holidays during my younger years, then when I was a teen he moved back to Kuttawa, settling onto a small farm. Tony seemed to me to be an authoritative type of person–decisive, direct and business-minded. He bought and sold property all over and enjoyed doing it. He was living in the Orlando area when Edna and I visited him during our Clearwater vacation. I was impressed with his house and especially that he had a pool. In his later years I saw Tony far too seldom. I lived here and there, as did he, and our paths just didn’t cross. I’m sorry for that.

Ginny–I cannot recall my Aunt Ginny without immediately remembering her laugh. She was perhaps the most joyful of them all. She loved telling jokes almost as much as hearing one. Ginny was one of those “life of the party” types. You couldn’t help but enjoy yourself around her, but a more down-to-earth person never existed. She never put on airs, didn’t give a hoot about being fashionable, and in general believed in letting her hair down. Ginny was the type of person who, when you saw her pull in your driveway, immediately made your day better. Once she came down to our house and we got up a game of baseball. She got so excited when she got a hit and ran “the bases,” which were pieces of cardboard that slid dangerously underfoot on the grass. Another time we all piled in the car and went to Opryland and had a glorious time. I think it’s telling that I don’t have a single picture of Ginny when she didn’t have the biggest grin on her face. What a wonderful legacy to leave.

Holly Jane–Holly was perhaps the most glamorous woman I knew the entire time I was growing up. It is impossible to describe her appearance without using terms like “blue eye shadow,” “gold and silver lame,” “platinum bouffant hairdo,” “clanging bracelets, high heels and sunglasses.” When she breezed in, Hollywood was in the house. (Think Jayne Mansfield.) Like Ginny, Holly liked to cut up and have a good time, but was a bit more reserved. I always liked when the aunts and uncles visited from Indiana, especially Holly. The way she interacted with her brothers and sisters showed the love and closeness the family had growing up. It was always there with her. To her, family was so important.

Billy–Billy was to handsome what Holly was to glamorous. It’s just my opinion, but either one of them could have been in movies. Billy was blessed with the hair, skin, eyes, teeth, bone structure–you name it. I was envious as hell of his looks (still am). Billy also has lived here, there and everywhere. I can’t keep up with all his moves. Like Tony, he has bought and sold properties all over. In the early years Billy lived behind us on Panther Creek. Then he took the family and left. The cousins became acclimated to far-off places, so that I don’t see them anymore. But Billy is back in west Kentucky and loving it. He’s active. He and I like to talk gardening whenever we see each other. (He’s still handsome, too. Some guys have all the luck.)

Lena–Lena lived close enough to us that we saw a lot of her when I was growing up. Before we moved to Panther Creek we lived in “Old” Kuttawa. I remember when I was five and Lena visited at Christmas. I have this vivid mental image of her standing in our kitchen, with a Pepsi bottle in one hand, cigarette in another, laughing uproariously. My next memory is on Panther Creek, me sitting on the edge of a plant bed near her home. Lena showed me how to gently pull the tobacco seedlings out, so as not to break them. Then she put me on a setter and sat beside me, patiently showing me how to put the plants into the machine. Another jokester who liked to cut up, Lena loved being social. I wish I had a dollar for every game she has bowled in her life. When I was staying at Mom and Dad’s in the 90’s, she loved to visit on cold winter nights and play games. During the summer she always stopped to admire my landscaping efforts, on the way up the road to see her “grandbabies.” Mom has told me when she and Dad were struggling to make ends meet in Indianapolis, in the early years, of the times Lena was there to be with her and comfort her. I was just a baby then, and don’t remember, but my own memories of Lena are enough. One in a million? More like one in a billion.

Eddy–Eddy was another handsome Kingston boy. He was a young 20-something when he stayed with our family for a spell. Then he joined the army and we didn’t see much of him for years, though we did visit him in North Carolina. I recall how he sat for hours at a time on furlough, spit-shining those black boots until you could see yourself in them. With a buzz cut and perfect grooming, he could have been a G.I. poster boy. Eddie was a steady man, not given to extremes. I remember how he would help me with my homework in high school. Once we had an argument about the meaning of “bum steer.” (He was right, I was wrong.)  Eddie bought a brand spanking new GTO, the reddest of reds with white leather interior, bucket seats, stick shift, just a dream car. The day he bought it he told me to get in and we flew around “the loop.” What a thrill. Eddy moved away to North Carolina and I visited him once on my way through the state. Other than that I didn’t seem him much before he passed. I hope I thanked him for helping me with my homework, and for that ride in the GTO.

Johnny–When I think of Johnny (Margie’s twin), my first thought is how much he loves kids. Even today it’s practically all he talks about. Whenever I see him he wants to tell me how well his are doing. When I was little Johnny was always eager to take me along wherever he went. I remember he had an old car with push-button gears. He and dad were going out with a flashlight, hunting possums or something. It was pitch black outside, but he said, “Come go with us, Wade.” So I got in the back and we hit some back roads and it was storming to beat all get out. We got on one old back road and was soon stuck in the mud. Johnny pushed the “reverse” button, then the “drive” button, then reverse, then drive, and rocked back and forth trying to get us out of the mud. In the end Dad had to get out and push until we got out of that hole. Johnny is one of those people who always knows you when he sees you and wants to catch up. When I picture him, to this day I see him in a blue uniform shirt with the white patch with his name on it, from the time he worked at the bread company in Paducah. I think of all her children, Johnny looked the most like Grandma.

Margie–When I was five I started first grade. Mom was pregnant and about to give birth to my sister, and Margie came to stay with us. She was still a teenager. She dressed me and fed me when Mom wasn’t up to it, and on that first day of school she did something else. I left school because it was hot and I couldn’t reach the water fountain. (Or so I said.) I came home and went directly into the kitchen, where we always kept a pitcher of cold water. I was standing in the door of the fridge when I heard Margie behind me. “What are you doing home! Don’t you know the whole school is calling here looking for you! Your momma can’t be upset right now!” And she picked up a stick and switched the back of my legs all the way back to school. We laughed about that for years. When we moved to Panther Creek Margie was staying at Grandma’s. Sometimes when I visited she would be sitting at her dressing table, makeup and perfume spread out. She had beautiful light brown hair and a petite figure. Sort of a young Jodie Foster. And fortunately for many of us, she inherited Grandma’s baking skills. Man, oh man. Most of my aunts (and uncles) are good cooks, but Margie never met a cake or pie she couldn’t master. Invariably, at holidays, if someone asked, “Who made this wonderful dessert?”, the answer would be “Margie.” Sweet, gentle Margie. I miss her.

Kinny–Kinny was the youngest of Grandma’s brood, and still living at home when we moved in near them on Panther Creek. Skinny, with blonde hair, my earliest memories are of him riding past our house on the tractor. He helped Grandpa with the tobacco, hay, corn or whatever else was growing.   I moved away to Virginia in 1978. A couple of years later I got a phone call from Kinny. He had become a truck driver and was in Roanoke. Would I meet him for breakfast? He was sitting in a Waffle House less than a mile from me. I met him and we had breakfast together. He may have been lonely and missing home. I know it certainly meant a lot to me that he took the time to call and visit, the only aunt or uncle to ever do so. Kinny is another of the kids with a good sense of humor, which he is still blessed with.

 And now, for Mom’s brothers and sisters, my Hammons aunts and uncles:

Maggie Hammons Ausenbaugh with little sister, Mary Lou
Maggie Hammons Ausenbaugh with little sister, Mary Lou

Maggie–Maggie was the eldest of Grandma Hammons’ children (Mom was the youngest). A deeply spiritual woman, Maggie was pastor of her own church for years. It was Maggie who drew us along with her to visit churches all over west Kentucky and southern Illinois. I remember visiting Maggie before she left Between the Rivers. She kept such a neat house, with shiny pine walls and little nick-knacks that would never survive our rowdy household. After she was forced to leave BTR she settled near “old” Eddyville, making a lovely home in a hollow that was like a little Eden to me. On the one side of a creek was her home, then you could walk across a wooden bridge to a small frame house under big shade trees. It was like something out of a fairy tale. She always had some kind of wild animal she had rescued, and there were ducks, chickens, or a goose or two, as well as other farm animals. She would sit for hours and help her husband string his trout lines, and could quote the gospel like no other. She had a Bible passage ready for any situation. Gentle, sweet, but fiery in her spiritual rhetoric, she had a tendency to make short, clipped, emphatic pronouncements when speaking. Maggie also had a vitality about her. When she had heart bypass surgery we visited her in a Nashville hospital. It was the day after surgery. Maggie was sitting up in the hospital bed asking when she could go home. Hearty stock. An amazing woman.

Louie–For all the years I knew him Louie lived with his family in Alton, Illinois. They visited us, we visited them. Louie was another of that generation who believed in good grooming. The man’s reddish-blonde hair was always in place; he was neatly shaved and smelling of cologne. His clothes were clean, pressed, and his shoes held an added surprise. He almost always carried a large amount of cash in them. Once he was visiting us and sent someone to the store to get something. I laughed when he took off a shoe and extracted a wad of 100-dollar bills. (Louie hid money in other places. After he died his family found several thousand dollars in an old, inoperable riding mower, in a shed back of their house.) It was always a pleasure when Louie visited because he would be driving the latest model of car. We would each get to take a ride in it and check it out. He was always asking us kids to come and stay the summer with them in St. Louis. One year I took him up on it, though I only spent a week. He was a kind and generous host. I was in the hospital room with Louie when he died, and that was a hard thing.

Louie Hammons
Louie Hammons

Dewie–I don’t remember Dewie, though Mom has a few photos of him. He drowned in Alabama while working on a barge in 1956. Some say he fell off, others insist he was pushed. We will never know. I tell the story in my book about my grandmothers, so I won’t retell it here. I know that his untimely passing grieved my grandparents for the rest of their lives.

Willie–Willie, with his thinning reddish hair, blue eyes and rakish sense of humor, was perhaps the most likable of all Mom’s brothers. Willie was lean, with whipcord muscles from chopping firewood. And I cannot to this day picture him without rolled up sleeves into which cigarettes had been tucked. He, like me, was a voracious reader. Whenever I visited him he would have stacks and stacks of paperback books (some of them risqué) and he would let me borrow them. It was through Willie (don’t tell Mom) that I first read about actual sex, though it was probably tame by today’s standards. He had a guitar, which he would strum and play, and he was pretty good at it, too. I could listen for hours. And when he wasn’t singing you could hear him whistling somewhere.

George–George was perhaps the most sensitive of Mom’s brothers.  Though mostly upbeat, he could be moody at times. Like Willie, he also sang and played guitar, but he was a self-taught artist as well. He could sit and draw a deer or bunny for us kids, or anything else we asked for. He was the best gardener–with gigantic tomatoes. How he got anything to grow in those rocks of Pea Ridge I’ll never understand, but he drew forth squash, melons, and many other vegetables. He tended the chickens and always had a dog or two around. I always felt that had George gotten a better education he would have been very successful. He had that type of inquisitive mind and varied interests.

Willie Hammons holding Wade
Willie Hammons holding Wade Kingston

Bedford–Bedford always went by his nickname, “Rabbit.” Rabbit was the brother nearest to Mom in age, so they grew up as the closest. In his later years he visited her often, driving some old jalopy with his little white terrier in the seat beside him. He was a small man who probably never weighed more than 120 pounds his entire life. Rabbit liked people but preferred living alone with his dog. He had a terrific sense of humor, and could be very funny. I still imitate the way he said “shit” when irritated, which came out like “shee-yut”.  I can hear him say it as I write this. He loved us kids. I almost never called home what Mom didn’t say “Rabbit was asking about you.” He would even get angry and rail at any perceived slight or hardship we kids had endured. But in his heart, Rabbit was a gentle soul, much-loved by us all and sorely missed.

George Hammons in uniform
George Hammons in uniform

What a blessing to have had so many wonderful aunts and uncles. I love them all.

"Rabbit," Mary Lou and George with kittens
“Rabbit,” Mary Lou and George with kittens

© Wade Kingston

Kentucky Wonders

Kentucky Wonders

Two years ago I published a short eBook about my grandmothers. I am now making it available for free here.

Kentucky Wonders

Recollections and Recipes of My Rural Grandmothers

By Wade Kingston

Copyright © 2015 Wade Kingston

All Rights Reserved

Dedication

For Gola and Esther

Thank You

I would like to thank Helen Roulston. She has been a teacher, a mentor and an inspiration.

She has also been a terrific editor and a loyal friend.

Prologue

I grew up in rural western Kentucky of the 1950’s and 60’s. We didn’t have much money, but we had a lot of family. As a child I loved every member of our family, none more than my grandmothers.

I learned from my grandfathers by working beside them. From Grandpa Kingston I learned how to farm everything from corn to tobacco. And though I’m no Abe Lincoln, Grandpa Hammons taught me to swing an ax like I meant it. My grandfathers worked hard to provide for their families, and they had difficult years.  We tried to be understanding when they were short-tempered. In truth, they could sometimes be grumpy old men.

My grandmothers were different. In many ways their lives were more difficult than their husbands.’ They shared all the hard work with the added burden of childbirth. But they still managed to be warm and loving women. Grandchildren were greeted with a smile and a hug; their persistent questions were patiently answered. Most of what I know of our family history and country life I learned from my grandmothers. Continue reading “Kentucky Wonders”

Why I am a Proud Kentuckian

The reasons I am a proud Kentuckian are many and varied. They have nothing to do with the ridiculous stereotypes outsiders often assign the Bluegrass State.

I have been fortunate enough to travel far and wide in these United States. I’ve visited all of the “lower 48” states, some of them many times. All of those states had many things to commend them beyond their stereotypes. Continue reading “Why I am a Proud Kentuckian”

Kentucky Ice Storm Part 2, with 26 New Photos plus 2 Videos

Ky. Ice Storm Part 2, with 26 New Photos plus 2 Videos.

For those of you who enjoyed Part 1, more joy! I found more photos and even some video. This winter has not been without its challenges. The polar vortex has caused widespread suffering, and utility bills are rivaling mortgages in some places. When I finished writing this post it was a whopping 9° with a wind chill below zero. But I’ll still take it over January and February of 2009. If you are reading this from someplace other than the Ohio Valley, you’ll just have to take my word for it. All of you who experienced it firsthand, you know what I’m talking about.

The first thing I remember about that week was the ominous forecast from WPSD-TV–Newschannel 6 from Paducah–on Sunday, January 25, 2009. The weather people actually had grave looks on their faces as they gave a rather scary forecast for Monday through Wednesday. I remember thinking, “How can they know we will get that much ice?” Continue reading “Kentucky Ice Storm Part 2, with 26 New Photos plus 2 Videos”

Wade’s Wild Turkey Pecan Pie

Wade's Wild Turkey Pecan Pie with homemade crust

Wade’s Wild Turkey Pecan Pie is (of course) one of my favorite pies. It’s a variation on an old southern favorite–the Bourbon Pecan Pie. It’s just that I prefer baking with Wild Turkey bourbon. It’s all-Kentucky, all the time. (Don’t worry–the alcohol burns off in the cooking. You won’t get tipsy if you eat a piece. It does retain the amazing Wild Turkey flavor, though). Continue reading “Wade’s Wild Turkey Pecan Pie”

Buttermilk Chess Pie

buttermilk chess pie

I ran across my recipe for buttermilk chess pie, and looking at the yellowed paper and faded blue ink, my mind traveled back to when I got it. Nearly 40 years ago when I worked for a factory some of the women would take pity on a hungry kid working his way through college. More than once there would be a pie or sandwich with my name on it waiting in the break room. This chess pie was my favorite, and the little old lady who made it gave me the recipe so I would always have it. Continue reading “Buttermilk Chess Pie”

Two Towns Long Gone-Old Eddyville & Old Kuttawa

Two towns long gone – Old Eddyville and Old Kuttawa. They live on in these old black and white photos. These photos cause my parents to start their “I remember when” stories.  TVA and the Corps of Engineers created Kentucky Lake and Lake Barkley by damming the Tennessee and Cumberland Rivers. But they did more than create–they also destroyed.

Old Kuttawa showing Red Front
Old Kuttawa showing Red Front store

Continue reading “Two Towns Long Gone-Old Eddyville & Old Kuttawa”

Morning Walk in a Small Town

The frost has not yet melted from the windshields as I head out the door for my morning walk, but I leave the jacket on its rack anyway. On these strenuous hills I will be sweating soon enough. I live in Lone Oak–which is more or less a suburb of Paducah, Kentucky—and though there are no biking or hiking lanes here, you can still find quiet streets suitable for exercise. I stop at the curb to tighten my shoe laces, then walk on. Continue reading “Morning Walk in a Small Town”