Along a quiet,red clay..Kentucky road, searching through trees for small grey stones of history and family past. A short steep hidden hill..tall thick brown grass, obscures my view..moving through the scared ground..I fall upon a weathered wooden fence, over grown with trees and shrubs, soft pale yellow light shines through to show me my treasure found. With tears of joy at the site, I kneel and pay my most humblest of respects. Surrounding me are three more stones..a wife whom he loved and lived and children who served with him in those years. My mind races with breathless remembrance of who, how and what this man was.
A seven year old drummer boy in a "Revolution", in the year of our God, 1778...A single red rose seems hardly enough. As a man he was the first to plant apples in this place. A thinker for many and a employer for more, he is smart and creative with all he bore. A grist mill, a planter, a justice too..how I wished to know you.
With Charity, his wife he begot so much..a hard worker till death in 1829. A grateful people erect a stone to remember him, while Charity goes threw a long life alone. My treasure is secure with pictures and writing.. a small flag next to his head, I know he's watching. I quietly thank him for all his sacrifice, so that I can live a much better life. I'm so proud the tears keep flowing..I promise, I will do all I can to share what I know. In loving memory of my 5th Generation Grandfather Nathan Futrell.
I didn't ask permission but once you post stuff on facebook it's free for the taking!! Just thought Kara deserved some credit for doing the family genealogy and being talented at writing about it. Thanks Sis.
1 comment:
Well, thanks for the complement. I appreicate it :)
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