June/July/August 2006

September - November 2006

EXCERPT
Western Kentucky: Lost & Forgotten, Found & Remembered*

BY SARAH ELIZABETH AND RON WHITEHEAD

The following is an excerpt from Western Kentucky: Lost & Forgotten, Found & Remembered (Published in Heaven Books, 2006). The book chronicles Sarah Elizabeth and Ron Whitehead's 19-day, 14-county, 325-mile hike from Cherokee Park in Louisville, via back roads and railroads, to the confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers. The text that appears in regular font was written by Ron; the text in italics was written by Sarah.

Two miles north of Fordsville we stopped to rest our weary bones in the driveway of a Baptist Church, which rested in the middle of a vast cornfield. On the other side of the church's roadside sign two elderly farmers, a woman and a man, were planting corn by hand. I sliced an apple in half with my Kendall knife. Sarah & I each ate half. While I practiced hobo yoga, lying on my back with arms stretched above my head, legs pointing straight up to the sky, the couple pulled up in their old nearly wore out (same as both our old trucks) white pickup, turned the engine off, and said, "Hello." We introduced ourselves then gave them a brief account of what we were doing. They loved it.

Billy Don Richards told us how this land, his family's land for generations, hundreds of acres, had, ages ago, been the main Indian gathering place in the region. He said that when he was a boy he'd discovered many Indian artifacts, arrowheads, spears, hatchets, and all sorts of other Indian objects, after they'd plow the land. While working, as a boy, he dreamed of one day meeting an Indian girl in that same cornfield, falling in love, and marrying her. Billy Don looked at Sarah and said, "My dream has finally come true! I never met a Indian Squaw before. You look just as pretty as I imagined one would — and I ain't kiddin!" In the same breath he also proclaimed, "I like my horses tame and my women wild!"

Sarah, Billy Don, and his wife, Bonnie, hit it off immediately and started swapping stories. They took Sarah to an old house we'd passed 300 yards back up the road. Sarah had admired the old home and wanted to take up-close photos but we couldn't tell for sure if anyone lived there. Turns out Billy and Bonnie own it. So Billy, Bonnie, and Sarah, went up to the house and visited while I rested with our backpacks by the road.

Billy & Bonnie told me about the place where we stood. It was once called Jones Station, but is now called Oaks. They also told me about Indian Arrowhead Ridge and Indian Council Rock, Mammoth Knot Tree, and Hedden's Cave. The Richard's family land wraps all around this area and Adams Fork Creek winds through their farm.

Billy & Bonnie then took Ron and me to an old graveyard, Haynes Cemetery, with raised graves and the grave of a Confederate, Bennett, marked as a spy. He was the first Confederate killed in Kentucky durin the Civil War.

Billy told us about an old connector road, formerly a railroad track on the outskirts of Fordsville, which would get us off, a few miles, the too busy Highway 69. After two hours of storytelling and visiting and promises to meet and visit again, Sarah & I headed on down the road towards Fordsville. We were starving. We decided to eat then take the backroad out of town.

Just inside Fordsville's city limits we saw a man drivin one of the most unusual tractors either of us had ever seen. My dad, Lee Burkey, enjoys antique and customized tractors, owns a few, takes his 1927 Fordson to steam shows, and has won some prizes with it. I've ridden with him on his old tractor in a parade or two and have taken an interest in them. So we flagged the man down and introduced ourselves. His name is Bobby Rusher. I talked with him about his tractor. He told about how he'd find pieces here and there to incorporate into this one of a kind ride. The canopy roof was a road sign from Rough River that lay in a ditch for a while. Since nobody ever got it out of the ditch, he decided he'd salvage it and put it to good use. I would have done the same thing myself. Reduce, reuse, recycle, resourceful. We wished Bobby well, thanked him for the visit, and walked on into Fordsville where we could get a bite to eat.

The late Edith O'Dell Freer wrote about Fordsville:

In this little spot in the hills
We grew up unhampered by fads and frills
None of us were rich, but we didn't feel poor
There were no wolves howling around our door
Here's to the small town, long may it stand
As a God-given haven in a troubled land

When we stepped into the main street restaurant in Fordsville the room, filled with 17 men, went immediately silent. All of them turned to stare at us. Hm. We found a booth in a corner, took our backpacks off, and plugged in the cell phone. When Sarah went to the restroom, all the way at the other end of the long restaurant, I watched all 17 men turn to stare like maybe she was the first woman they'd ever seen. Hm.

We had grilled cheese sandwiches. I pretty much live off em. They don't cost much money and they sit well in your stomach. This is very important when you're walkin for miles out in the hot sun with no bathrooms anywhere in sight except behind a tree or bush, which you hope is out of sight!

Every time we stop to eat, I opt for a grilled cheese on white bread with butter slathered over the bread before its grilled. Give me a coke float to wash it down with and you've made my favorite meal. You just can't go wrong with a grilled cheese sandwich. Everybody has always said, "Sarah — you eat like a bird!" And they're right, I can get by on almost nothin. It doesn't take much to make me happy, which is good, cause I've never had much and I'm just as happy as I can be.

Billie Don showed up at the diner. We had another good long talk with him, listening to his fascinating stories, then made our way to the old connector road. I'd never been on, or heard of, this road. Would it actually connect us, eventually, with Highway 69 near Dundee? How many miles long was it? Did it lead to a bridge over Rough River, a bridge that had possibly been torn down or had washed out? Would we have to backtrack? Yet again we were walking into the unknown.

not-knowing

not-knowing

not-knowing is the fundamental plowed earth of our being
it is our life source

embrace the wind
embrace my heart

born to die
there is no safety
all is demanded
expose yourself completely
accept the consequences
of your successes
and your failures
as no other dare

enlightened mind
is not special
it is natural
present yourself
as you are
wise fool

don't hesitate
embrace mystery paradox uncertainty
have courage

through fear
and boredom
have faith
be compassion

embrace the wind
embrace your heart

not-knowing is the fundamental plowed earth of our being
it is our life source

not-knowing

A few miles into the unknown, down the old connector back worn out asphalted over buried railroad road, we took a break. Like a dead skunk I laid my body down in the middle of the road.

We made our Live Radio Broadcast call to Scott Mullins. In many areas we couldn't get phone reception but this was a good quiet shady Rough River bottomed spot so we called. As I was talking with Scott a man rode up on an old customized bicycle. He introduced himself to Sarah. They had a conversation while I talked with Scott. When I was done I introduced myself.

Jim Lanham was friendly, courteous, and honest. We trusted him immediately. In some ways he reminded me of a preacher, but a good one. He offered us water. We took a bottle and said, "Thanks." He traveled on. So did we.

As we walk, inspiration hits, and I grab my notebook. I've been thinkin about a story Billy Don Richards told me about the generations who have farmed corn on the land there at Oaks. He talked about his Pappy and their corn crib. As I walk, I pay attention to the rhythm of my steps, my strides, and the rhythm of "When The Redbuds Bloom" starts to flow. I start singin with the rhythm. No words yet. Then a line comes to me, and another line. I start scribblin the words down as fast as they come to me and they start comin faster and faster. I rearrange words, cross out some and add others in their place that fit better with the rhythm. I sing the lines with the tune and rhythm and make more corrections and additions until it flows smoothly. I sing it for Ron to the rhythm of our steps as we walk down the road:

Pappy caught a man stealin corn from his crib
So he asked if he was hungry and invited him in
He gave him what little we had in the kitchen
And that man never stole corn from Pappy again

I've written the first verse for "When The Redbuds Bloom!" My heart is soarin. Corn is a symbol of Life. It is the mainstay for many tribes. Corn is offered as a blessin for protection, understandin, and forgiveness.

We walk another mile up the road and pass a narrow side road with an Olaton sign. I recalled a letter Mama sent me telling the story about Grandaddy buying a schoolhouse in Olaton and moving it to Centertown:

Olaton, Kentucky

Nestled deep in the hills of Ohio County, Daddy and Moma took us to this nice little town, stopping at the general store, owned by Mr. Iller, There was everything in that store from saddles to coffee pots, shoes, material, B-Bats (candy). The little town had a Post office, Baptist Church and other stores, We got something to eat, drove across the iron bridge and Daddy saw this school house that was vacated. He said he would buy that and make us a nice home. He got Wayne Bandy and his big truck and Bloomer English and started tearing it down. Jo and I went with them & pulled boards loose. We loaded it on the truck, started crossing the bridge and fell through with one wheel. Jacked it up and started home. Pulled in behind Blue Bus Café in Centertown and started our house. Spadge Tooley and brother Jack and others helped. So soon after, a dream come true, especially for Moma, we had a nice home, after living crammed behind the café. So from a little mining house that Daddy moved from Matanzas to Walton Creek then to a bus home to a little school house we had a good warm house with pretty hardwood floors, a porch, a well house, pretty yard and lawn furniture under a willow tree.
Love, Mama

We started our hike in a cold wave of weather. Now a heat wave had arrived. Drenched with sweat, we finally made it to busy Highway 69. Overloaded log trucks, farm trucks, semi trucks, tractors with plows and disks, school buses, non-stop traffic on this so-called backroad.

A growing number of people were stopping to ask us if we needed a ride. We always said, "No thanks, we're walking." And then, if they asked, we explained where we were going and why. Some people looked at us like we were crazy, others loved what we were doing. Some offered food, drinks, and a place to spend the night.

A mile before we reached Dundee, exhausted from another over 20 mile day, we were relieved to hear a car horn honkin and to see Velvet pull up in her van. Edie and Ivy and Whitney were with her. We rode on in to Hartford to spend the night at Velvet's. The next mornin, Velvet would give us a ride back to this very spot and we would start walkin again. We are determined to walk every step of the way though people keep offerin us rides sayin, "Oh come on, nobody will know."

Dear sweet Velvet is my youngest sister. She's married to Leon Woosley. They have two lovely daughters, Noel and Haley. Edie is my second oldest sister. She's two years younger than Paddy, my oldest sister. Robin is second youngest. Edie is married to Joey Coleman. They have two children, Atticus and Ivy. Paddy has three children, Caleb and Sarah and Hannah. Robin is married to Bernie. They have three children, Bowin and Heidi and Isaiah.

Everybody was waiting for us at Velvet's: kids, parents, grandparents, great-grandparents plus other relatives and friends. I was happily surprised, even shocked. I was beyond happy to see that my family was getting into our hike. A feast had been prepared. Hurray! We were starving. After we ate everyone wanted the full story bout the trip so far. Our wounds were bandaged. Ivy and Haley even massaged our feet! We were in hog heaven.

Haley brought her guitar out and handed it to me. In no time my ears picked out chords on the guitar that matched the melody I'd been singin on the road today. I experimented with different keys until I found the right one for this song. I decided to capo the second fret. The minor chords rang out and every emotion of my heart sang the melody and rhythm of "When The Redbuds Bloom."

Noel let us sleep in her room for the night. It was a tight squeeze, but Ron and I were so tired, we didn't mind the constrictin quarters of Noel's twin size bed.

Redbuds weave through my mind
Ancient lullaby blooms
Sleep falls upon us