When I was a small child, I lived in eastern Kentucky at the
Head of the Licking River with my Grandmother Maudie Howard and my Aunt Lucy.
One day, Aunt Lucy and I walked over the mountaintop to Grassy to see Aunt Alta’s
family. On our way, we passed thru an area of giant rocks. We sat and rested.
That place always made me feel safe when I needed a place to go in my mind.
I always yearned to return there in reality. Thus begins
Karen’s journey to find my rock place. In early September 2015, I was able to
convince my friend and relative Hazel Shepherd’s daughter, Sadie Bailey, to
guide me to those high rocks. They live on the old home place that belongs to
the Howard family still today. I arrived around 9:30 on a cloudy morning. After
visiting with Hazel a bit, we discussed several rock formations atop the ridges and determined that
my place was probably at Mandy House, a gap on the property of Berlin Howard,
and too far and treacherous for an inexperienced old hiker like me. Sadie and
her brother Danny told of a least 3 other areas we might try. We decided to
start at the home place and climb that ridge to the first rocks then go around
to the other two and back down the hillside at the graveyard. Sadie and I both
had walking sticks and we swung them lightly as we walked down the road to find
a good start spot along the gas line. I clumsily climbed straight up for ten
feet and was out of breath and energy. We rested near a tree and continued on.
This pattern repeats itself for the next hour or so. We finally reached a more
level spot still not at the top of the mountain. I huffed and puffed. Finally,
in the distance, I could see the first rock cliffs. As we walked, Sadie related
stories about her family. How they loved the land and the mountains. She said
they would come to the rocks on a regular basis as they ran and played on the
hill sides. They kept paths worn to the levels and even used the rocks as a
playhouse. I could see why as we approached the site. One large rock lay atop
several others creating a “house”. In the early days, Indians used the
rockhouses for shelter, but Sadie said they had never found any remnants there
unlike in her garden that turned up arrowheads at every plowing. We carefully climbed
the rocks with me following Sadie’s lead. At last, I was on top those great
boulders looking all around at the tall untouched old trees. I was breathless.
In awe of Gods beauty. And from climbing. Ha! After some silent reverence for
the place, I named it “Sadie,s Playhouse”. Now others will know where I have
been. And we have the photos and small rocks to prove it. Yes, Sadie carried the
rocks in her backpack. Now began the next
leg of the hike. She told me the next 2 formations were much bigger and higher
up the ridgeline. I decided at that point that we should return while I could
still move. Finally, I made a wise decision and admitted my health limitations.
The best way to descend looked to be along the gas line. The
company had recently trimmed a ten foot wide swath on each side so the area was
free of undergrowth and saplings. My first step landed on my behind and I slid
several feet. So be it. We slid down the rest of the hill to within 10 feet of
the road. Our total time was around 2.5 hours and it looked like rain. Upon
siting us in the drive, Hazel commented “Why, you’uns didn’t go no place”. Then
she snickered into her hand and asked me “how old do you feel now?” I guess I have given her a story to tell also.
Hazel invited me in for a dinner of green beans and
cornbread and fresh corn and apple cobbler. And for story telling about her younger
days and things she knew about my family. Her sister remembered seeing my
Mother’s first child Sandra Faye before she passed at the young age of 2 years.
Hazel and her husband William were there when my great uncle Henry Mullins
preached in the yard at the funeral of Callie, my grandfather. We talked about
the rocks I brought down with me and how she does the same thing, even going so
far as to packing them in her purse. And how my Italy luggage was heavy due to
my sea rocks and glass from Positano.
William’s family lived just down the road and were 2nd
or 3rd cousins to us. Hazel’s parents were Sadie Crager and Chester
Shepherd. We have not figured out our ancestral relationship yet but we are
related by heart.
Hazel shared stories of her trips to Walmart in Prestonsburg
and how as she sits near registers waiting for a daughter to shop, friends and
strangers stop to talk. She often ends up giving them counsel about life and
God. As she did for me that afternoon. She told me of her baptism and the joy
she feels from her relationship with God. She told me that I will know when God
takes ahold of my heart. He already has.
That day, I realized that I find the same peace in listening
to others as I find among the mountain rocks. That place has become about me
visiting with Hazel as well as visiting the land and the graveyard.
Hazel’s family has lived there over 40 years. She had 12
children and 6 of them still survive. They take care of her. They cook and
clean and call every day. She has
chickens and small ponies for pets. Her front porch built by Sadie and Jane
provides a view of the traffic, the mountains and memories.
Those other rocks still beckon, but it will take a four
wheeler. My mind is still young enough to trick my body into trying it soon.
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