In Their Own Words (Part 1)

Solomon King Smith. Quite a name. But not uncommon as I have learned. Many people here in Appalachia were, in fact, given Biblical names such as this. Quite a few of them this exact name, Solomon King. That may be why my great grandfather chose to sign his name, "S.K. Smith". Whatever the reason, that is how he chose to identify himself. Solomon King Smith was the son of Hiram Martin Smith and Mary Ann May. His paternal grandfather was Jonathan Smith, son of Martin Brosten Smith, son of Henry Smith II, (who was born Heinrich Schmidtt in Germany). Henry Smith was the son was of Heinrich Schmidtt, Senior who lived and died in Germany. His son "Englished" his name when he came to what would become "America".

Grandpa Solomon's mother, Mary Ann May was the daughter of Daniel May and Sarah (Sally) Coleman May. Sarah Coleman May was of the Peter Coleman line that we spoke of in my previous post.

And how do I know much of this information? Because Grandpa S.K. told me so. No, not in person -- I only met him once that I can remember when I was a very young girl. But he told me nonetheless..and in his own words too.

You see, some people go digging for buried treasure. Some are excited when they turn up relics from the past... indian spears or sunken treasure from a ship. I feel the same way when I find a genealogicial treasure. It is as precious to me as any chunk of silver would be. That's how I felt when a relative shared a letter that had been in her families possession for a long time. This letter was written by my Great Grandfather Solomon King Smith (S.K. Smith) to his neice Tennessee Wolford. In the letter, he attempts to set down for the record his recollections of the family names. It is a precious and rare find for a genealogy buff like myself. I thought I'd share the letter here... in his own words, a section at a time, beginning with the first part.

The letter is difficult to read -- written in the shaky hand of a very elderly gentlemen with a #2 pencil on the back of a lined piece of school paper. But the information is there for any who seek it and for me, it is a priceless little piece of my past that tells me so much about myself. A message from my great grandfather... in his own words!

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Part 1 Translation of Great Grandpa Solomon King Smith's letter:

"S.Ks granddad on father side was Jonathan Smith. Granddad had three
brothers, Davison, Mart, and the other I dont' know. Paw (Hiram Martin
Smith) had 4 brothers, George Harrison (Smith), Joseph
Franklin (Smith), John Silas (Smith), Aaron (Smith),
and 2 sisters, Vashtie (Smith) Wolford and Juliana (Smith) Dyer. Grandpa's
(Jonathan Smith)'s mother was Leveniah Daugherty. On mother's side
(Sarah, "Sallie Ann", Coleman May), James May, a Primitive Baptist
Preacher. I think he had a brother Daniel May. I don't if any more.
Grandma May was a Coleman. I don't her parents or brothers or sisters.
Grandpa May had Mose, Jeff, John H. May and James Harve May for boys, Martha Looney, Tilda Daugherty, Elizabeth Dotson, Mary Ann Smith, Sallie Justice, Pricey Baker and Rachel Davis."

The Illusive Miss Coleman

Photo: Peter Coleman

She was a tiny little woman but wiry. She had very long arms. Some might have said God gave her those for "catching" the babies that she mid-wifed in the Appalachian hills. Whatever the reason, her arms did look longer than normal. Not that I ever met her -- she died long before I was born. But my mother remembered her well and I have seen pictures of her. Who is she? She's my great-grandmother, Louisa Ann Coleman Smith.

The ironic thing is that while I have no idea from whom she came, I do know exactly where she is...or rather, where her final resting place is. Great Grandma Louisa Coleman Smith is buried next to my great grandfather, Solomon King Smith in the Phillips Cemetery in Merrimac, West Virginia.

Trying to find her parents, however, has proven very frustrating. I am the oldest daughter of the oldest living daughter of the oldest daugher to the illusive Miss Coleman, however, for some odd reason, the oral family history (of which we have so much and which is a treasure and which I have written down for our next generations) never included that of Louisa Ann's parentage. All I can remember hearing about her is that her family may have come from a place called Wolfpit, Kentucky in Pike County.

The other facts that I know about her is that she and Great Grandpa Smith lived in Hurley, Virginia when my grandmother Ethel Smith was born back on New Year's Day in 1901. Papa Smith was a blacksmith and it is said that Grandma Coleman had taught school before marrying Solomon. It was also said that she was a year or two older than her husband.

Louisa had at least one sister who's name was Phygenia Coleman (Roberts). My great Aunt Phygenia could draw very well and it is no doubt from her that I get this same talent as did some of my 50 first cousins and at least one nephew. Great Grandm Louisa also had a brother that she referred to as "Shack" or something that sounded like that. But that's it. That's all I know about her. I want to know more. I want to trace her lineage as I have so many of my other ancestors..but she has proven very illusive.

Her husband, Solomon King Smith, my great grandfather, had a grandmother who was also a Coleman. My Great Great Great grandmother Sarah Coleman (May) is from the Peter Coleman and Abigail Jayne (originally "De Jeanne" - Fr.) lineage. This is the same lineage from which my husband, Paul Coleman, hails. (Paul Coleman, Edward Coleman, Riley Coleman, Matthew Coleman, Abraham Coleman, Richard Coleman, Peter Coleman II). My lineage in that same lines goes Geneva France, (Francis), Opal Lee France, Ethel Smith Lee, Solomon King Smith, Mary Ann May, Sarah Coleman May, Daniel Boone Coleman, Peter Coleman II. (So that means my 7th generation grandfather (Peter Coleman II) and my husband's 6th generation grandfather (Peter Coleman II) was the one and the same. Peter's grandfather was William Coleman, one of three Coleman brothers who settled in Virginia.

Was my great grandmother, Louisa Ann Coleman from this same line? I don't know but it is highly likely as it is said that three brothers who immigrated to the Virginia area and one of those three brothers was William Coleman and his son, Peter, (whose wife was Abigail Jayne (or De Jeanne" originally) begat all the Eastern Kentucky Coleman clan.

And boy is that a clan! You can't pick up a rock in Pike County, Kentucky and throw it lest you hit a Coleman or a Coleman relative. Mike and I were at a local restaurant once and we told them "Coleman reservation". After we were seated, we heard three more Coleman reservations be seated right behind us. Yeah, there's that many of us.

So, why can't I find definitive proof of the line of my Great Grandmother, Louisa Ann Coleman Smith's parentage? I don't know. I have been conducting genealogical searches for more than ten years and I have yet to find definitive proof of her parents. It's frustrating. But it's also interesting and I have learned much along the way from my false starts. One day, perhaps someone, somewhere, will be able to help me finally put a name on the parenting chart of my great grandmother, Louisa Ann Coleman Smith. Until then she will remain.....the illusive Miss Coleman.

Learning to Let Go...

True..this is a little off the path for this blog. But I tend to write about what I know and what I'm feeling. And although this is primarily a "genealogy" type blog... I think it entirely appropriate to include this post about my son as he is the next generation of my own genealogy. And I'm not sure if the men who read this will understand, but I know that every mother out there will...

It's that time of year. Invitations, cap and gown, senior portraits...the whole drill. High Schools all over the country are having their commencement services and graduating a whole new crop of young adults out into the big world. A ritual that happens every year at this time, but the difference for me is that THIS year...one of those wearing a mortarboard will be my son. Samuel J. Matthew Burton is scheduled to graduate from Pikeville High School on Sunday. Am I proud? Of course! Am I happy for him? You bet I am! Am I also a little nostalgic and sad? Yeah, that too.

Like so many women who find themselves where I am, I have conflicting feelings. The fact that I've read that experts say that such feelings are perfectly normal helps a little but doesn't keep the sadness from assailing me at odd times...like when I'm in the laundry room folding socks.

It's the end of an era. It's my official "retirement" as full-time Mom. I'm being reassigned to "part-time" consultant now. I'm not sure I was ready to give up my key to the washroom. But here it is...time. The problem, just as it would be with any retirement, is finding who I am outside of this job.

I've always said that being Sam's mom was the greatest thing, by far, that I have ever done. I tried not to take any of the days for granted. Having waited twelve years for him to come along after we were married, perhaps his dad and I appreciated the little things of being parents even more. Story hour, little league, homework, sleep aways, bullies, grades, first loves, lost teeth, braces, skinned knees, back-talk, successes, failures, ...we shared them all with him.

And we shared the most painful parts of life as well...the loss of his grandfathers, and a grandmother, as well as our own divorce. Later came our individual remarriages. Suddenly, there were step-brothers and sisters to deal with and a change of school and address. So yes, he's been through a lot..and so have we. Sometimes it felt as if we were on a boat in the rapids in rough water and going over the falls. Sometimes we didn't know if we'd make it through. But by the sheer grace of God, we've all come out on the other side intact and sane for the most part.

The one thing that has remained constant is the love I have for him. Even during the difficult years. Perhaps, ESPECIALLY during the difficult years. And now it's time. I remember when he was a baby and he began walking, and later when he learned to ride a bike and I held my breath sure that he was going to smash headlong into something (which he did on numerous occasions). I remember when he got his driver's license and I held my breath again. (Your prayer life takes on new meaning around that time. )

I've been there through all the major events in his life..since his first breath til now. I was always there, holding a hand, offering a word of encouragement, or stern disapproval if it was called for. And now it's time for a new event in his life. Only this time, he will take the steps without me. Because it's time. Oh, I'll be there. But it is time that I deliberately take a step BACK (when my heart desparately wants to run forward and try to clear a path for him as I have always done). But it's time. Time for me to step back and watch while he clears the path for himself.

Oh, it's gonna be hard. Perhaps the hardest thing I've ever done. This doing nothing and giving him room and time to do for himself. Watching him fall down at times. Watching him get hurt at times and curbing the urge to run to him or to bash whoever is responsible. But it's time. Time to let go and let him....live the life that God gave him.

So here I am... in the middle of my own genealogy. A daughter with an aging mother. A mother with an emerging son. A woman who's a little lost in the middle, trying to figure out what 50 is supposed to look like and what and who she is now that she's entering full-time Mom retirement.

And I'll admit it. I'm a little scared. Me. The woman who was always fearless. It's humbling to go from the SuperMom with a cape who could always leap tall buildings to just a middle-aged woman who's hanging out in a phone booth hoping her son will call from college. (sigh).

And so they come. These feelings. Feelings of pride and happiness. Feelings of a job well done and a rest well-earned. And then sometimes on their heels are the feelings of loss, and grief at the knowledge of the days that won't come again, of the change that's in the air. Of the bewilderment as to who I am now that I'm no longer in the Corporate Office of Mom Central.

So I will pack up the lectures. I'll put the scoldings in a box. I'll clean out my desk drawer of "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times" and I'll donate my "If everyone else were ..." speech to a local charity. I'll take one last look around the office and again hear the sweet echoes of a little voice and chubby hands bringing me weeds for flowers. But I won't cry. Because I know that with God's help, I've done good work here. I've accomplished the launching of a young man with so much promise and life to give this world. While here, I've left a legacy of the best kind, and that's something I can be proud of.

And so I pick up the last of my things and grab my jacket and head toward the door to my new position of Consultant Mom and Fabulous woman over 50. And I won't hesitate as I turn out the light and lock the door. Because it's time.

Home is where the heart is...

Phelps. Freeburn. Majestic. Pond Creek. Knox Creek. Peter Creek. Up until a few months ago, these were but names of little places in the far southeastern part of Kentucky in Pike County, Kentucky. Just names that I had heard all my life. Places that my Daddy had spoken of so very often and always with a soft, nostalgic, far away look on his face. No matter how many years he had been away from the area, there was no mistaking that this little corner of the world was always "home" to Daddy.

I never understood that nostalgia for "home" until recently. I grew up in Lawrence County, Kentucky and lived there all my life except for a six-year stint of living in Columbus, Ohio. Eighteen months ago, I came to live in Pike County, Kentucky. It was actually full circle for me, because I had been born in Pike County but having left so young I had no memory of the area.

At first the transition was difficult. I didn't know anyone except my new husband and his mother and I didn't know how to find my way around. I felt out of step and out of my element.

I stayed home a lot. I missed my elderly mother and my brother and his family who still lived in Lawrence County. And I missed seeing my sister and her family when they came in from Columbus to see our Mom.

Slowly, I begin to make friends and find my niche in my new/old hometown. I admit I still get lost occasionally but that's mostly that's because I have no geographic bearing. I have a new job here and my son is doing great in school and will graduate from a local high school in a few months.

All of this made me think about the concept of "home". This IS my home now. I'm happy here. I have a full, rich life here. But every now and again I do think back to something I once knew as "home" and I feel the lonely stab of nostalgia that Daddy must have felt. But I realize that it's not so much a certain longitude or latitude, but rather, the memories that live in that space and time that make a place home.

I grew up in Lawernce County and I raised my son there and so the memories of both our childhoods live there. Memories of times when my mom was younger and healthier and when my Daddy was alive and the family was intact live in that place. That is what I miss. Not the certain point on the map, but how that time felt. It was home.

Of course now, I'm making new memories. My son will graduate from here and this is the home he will return to when he visits from college. And my sister and her family are making new memories by visiting here.

Still I understand the longing in my Daddy's eyes. Those places here in Pike County were where he spent his youth and young adulthood. It was where he made a place for himself in the working world and where he married my mother. It was where he started his family. It was the place and time in his life where he felt alive and strong and all the world was out in front of him. By the time he moved to Lawrence County, he had become disabled from epilepsy and he felt defeated and broken. No wonder his eyes always grew misty whenever he thought of "home".

I never thought much about it before, but something inside me makes me want to visit those places that I heard Daddy speak of so often. Something within me makes me want to walk where he walked and see if anything is left of the things he knew so long ago. I realize not much will have remained in fifty years, but to just be in the places that he loved, somehow might make me feel connected to him again.

I know that nothing will feel familiar to me, but then again, perhaps it will. Perhaps I will meet someone with the Surname Francis, or Hurley, Coleman, Daugherty, Stiltner, May, Allen, or Smith and there will be a familiarity about them. Perhaps, when I stand in those places where he stood and look out over what he was remembering all those years ago, maybe I will once again be able to see the look in my Daddy's eyes and this time I can whisper to him, "Now, I understand Daddy." "I understand what you heart was looking for all those years ago. Maybe through me, Daddy's heart will somehow be "home again"...and maybe, in some small, way... I will be too.

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Picture owned and copyright by Geneva Coleman

My LEE family Surname

Last week, I posted about my maiden name "Francis". My dad's last name. But I am equally of my mother, and her maiden name was "Lee". So this week, we're going to post some of the Lee ancestry.

RICHARD LEE

The first KNOWN Lee in our line, of whom we are aware is Richard Lee. Richard was born December 16, 1830 in Buchanan County, VA. He married to Nancy Fuller, she was the daughter of John Fuller and Christina Rasnick.

JAMES HAMILTON LEE

Richard Lee and his wife, Nancy Fuller Lee had several children including James Hamilton Lee, born 1857 in Buchanan County, VA. Grandpa James married Sarah Lockhart in 1900. Sarah was from Pike County, Kentucky.

CHARLES COMPTON LEE

James Hamilton Lee and Sarah Lockhart Lee had one child, my grandfather, Charles Compton Lee. Sarah died in childbirth and my grandfather was raised by her sister, Julie Lockhart Blankenship and her husband, Mont Blankenship. He went by the last name "Blankenship" at times.

OPAL VIRGINA LEE

Charles Compton Lee married Mary Ethel Smith Lee and they had eleven children, ten of whom reached adulthood. My mother was the third oldest. Opal Virginia Lee married Joseph Francis Jr. on December 3, 1949 in the Pike County Courthouse with Justice of the Peace, Noah Hobbs officiating.

And that brings me to... well... ME. Geneva France Burton Coleman.

I will fill in some more information about my Lee Surname and the other Surnames mentioned here, including FULLER, LOCKHART, and SMITH in subsequent posts. Until next time..happy hunting for your family!

Francis (Frances) (France) (French) Surname

Well, I suppose we should just start at the beginning. The only trouble with that thought is that in genealogy, determining just where be the beginning is the "johnny part" as my Appalachian grandmother would have said. Because every time you uncover one grandparent, you are blessed with the names of two more, and so it grows exponentially.

But begin we must if we are ever to tell the tale of my Appalachian genealogy. Let me first state, however, that there may NEVER be a complete tale of one's Appalachian history. As evidence for my statement, let me enlighten you to the fact that I have FIFTY-ONE first cousins on my mother's side alone. FIFTY-ONE! And that doesn't count my paternal side. Sheesh. What a brood! But that's another trait of our Appalachian families... they were large families. One of my greaty-great grandmothers several generations back had seventeen (yes, 17) children. And it wasn't uncommon for a man to be married three or four times, having been widowed several times, and have children by all four wives.

But we'll try to begin here on this post. And we'll begin with my maiden name. Even that, however, is complicated. (Isn't everything?) You see, I was born under the surname "France", however, my father was born under the surname "Francis" as was my oldest brother. There was some sort of mixup with the spelling of the name and it became so confusing that finally my mom and dad had to deed their own land to themselves to effectuate a name correction. From that point on we went by the name of France, not Francis. But I have a nephew, Dr. Bryan Francis of Williamson, WV who still uses his father's surname (my late brother) that being Francis. So I identify my maiden name as France, and/or Francis. Other spellings of the same last name include Frances and the derivative "French". So if you are any one of those and if you have ancestors who crossed paths in the Appalachians before spreading on westward and northward or southward, then you and I might be distantly related.

Which brings me to another point... Sometimes it seems that at least in this neck of the woods, I may be distantly related to everyone. Not actually, of course, but there is such a sense of community and past and such that we feel related because we are connected in a social sense. We even call our elder people "Aunt" and "Uncle" when they are no blood relation simply out of respect. Most of us have been taught that from a young age.

Now about my France or Francis family:

WILLIAM FRANCIS, SR.

It seems that there was a William Francis, Sr. who started all this here in Pike County a long, long time ago. Grandpa Francis was born around 1795 in Virginia. He never used his full name but it is thought that his middle name was Howard. Evidently Grandpa Francis was not much of a businessman...as he traded 1,600 acres of his land for a hounddog. It is also said he traded some more land for a milk cow. It would appear that they saw him coming. Either that or land was plentiful back then, which it would have been.

When Grandpa William Francis, Sr. moved from what is now Russell County, Virginia to Pike County, Kentucky, the trip took five weeks by wagon and he brought with him a Cherokee Indian wife and that's how he became known as "squaw man" ... a name I also affectionately call my husband because he calls me "squaw".

Grandpa William is shown to have been married to a Delilah Francis (we believe this to be the Cherokee Indian wife he brought with him) and they had at least seven children including William Francis, Jr., my grandfather.

WILLIAM FRANCIS, Jr.

William Francis Jr. was born in 1817 and died in 1863 in Pike County, Peter Creek, Kentucky.
He was married to Margaret Bouney (daughter of Sarah Mullins Bouney and Joseph Bouney --my Revolutionary War grandfather).

WILLIAM "BUD" FRANCIS

William, Jr. had William (the third or "Bud" as he was called). Grandpa "Bud" Francis was born in 1853 and he died in 1917. He married Tylithy Hylton., daughter of Susannah Griffith Hylton and James Hylton. Tylithy died and Grandpa Bud remarried Octavia McCoy. (Yes, of the infamous "McCoys".

JOSEPH FRANCIS, Sr.

Grandpa Bud Francis and Grandma Tylithy Hylton Francis had several children including my great grandfather, Joseph Francis, Sr., who was born in 1889 and died in 1975. Joseph was married to Vesta Sanders but she is not my grantmother. Grandpa Joseph had an affair with Mary Hurley (daughter of John Rile Hurley and Jane Allen (and no they wern't married either). The result of Grandpa Joseph and Mary Hurley's union was my father, Joseph Francis, Jr.

JOSEPH FRANCIS Jr.

My daddy was born in 1921. We are not exactly sure of the date because he has no recorded birth record on file. He married Georganne Blackburn when he was about sixteen years old and they had a son, Otil Francis. They divorced and my dad later married my mother, Opal Virginia Lee who is a daughter of Charles Compton Lee and Ethel Smith Lee. My mother still lives in our homeplace in Kentucky

So there you have it.. the short and the skinny of my Francis Ancestory. As far back as I currently know for sure. I know my mother's side of the family much better as Daddy was raised by neither his mother nor his father but by two spinster school teachers. He even went by the name of Joe Allen for a while as was the case for children who were born out of the confines of marriage in that day. All we have is his school record to guage his age, as I previously mentioned there is no official record of his birth. But one thing is for sure... he was born...and that's how I got here..the third of four children born to Joseph Francis (France), Jr. and Opal Virginia Lee France.

Right now, these are but names on a screen ...nothing more. Names and dates of lives lived and died. But in the future I hope to regale you with some actual stories of these people that will make them come alive for you as you meet my Appalachian ancestors. But for now, we'll leave you to digest the names and dates. My best to you this Saturday evening.
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NOTE: We believe that Grandpa William Francis, Sr.'s father and mother were Thomas Francis and Susanna Bottom Francis but this has not been substantiated yet.

My Appalachian Surnames

We've been talking in general about Appalachia and its history and culture and ancestory. I think it's now time to talk specifically about MY Appalachian history. In the next few posts you'll be hearing about my family ancestors specifically. If my scanner decides to cooperate, you'll be seeing some vintage pictures as well. Some of the family Surnames that I have researched or am continuing to research are:

Francis or France (my maiden name)
Lee (my mother's maiden name)
Smith (originally German and "Schmidtt" -- my maternal grandmother's
maiden name
Daughtery (Irish)
Honaker (Swiss)
Fuller (Swiss)
May (English)
Lockhart
Allen
Hurley (Irish)
Coleman

There are many others, of course, but we'll start with those. That should keep us busy for a while. Many regards to my followers and faithful.

*Horse photo above copyright Susan Troxell See 2010 of Lexington, Ky.