Posted by blamethebanjo on Saturday, March 8, 2008
I can remember spending every daylight hour in Western Kentucky discing on my Dads' old International tracter in the hot sun. I got a tan that some would be envious of.Not on purpous but as a bonus unless you count the sunburn.
As I made my trip back and forth turning up the ground I would sometimes disturb mice who were hiding beneath a cool clod of dirt.This was a treat for the red fox who came out every day to walk behind me collecting his breakfast,lunch and dinner. I began to feel a friendship and in my solitude found myself talking to the fox.
" Red, do you realize this dirt we are on was bought by my great,great, great grandfather back in 1811?" The fox barely missed a bite so I continued, "Yep, he bought these 600 acres for $500 right here on Otter Creek.The Carlisle family lived in a log cabin he built when they moved here from Deleware." I continued.
I told my new friend how the backwater from the Green River nearby once picked the cabin up and turned it around sort of cattycorner from the original setting.I reminissed out loud how as a young boy I actually was inside the small dwelling.It was in great disrepair and soon would fall under the weight of passing years.
Thomas Carlisle would raise a son here before his passing in 1821.A winter day so cold that his body was moved several miles by oxen on a wooden sled pulled on the ice to New Salem Church. I found the old weather worn stone there when I was 16 but like the cabin it eventually fell and was lost to time.John Milby Carlisle raised his son, Josiah Milby there too.Josiah was my fathers grandfather.
My father spoke kindly of Josiah.He would become a more of a father to Weldon ,my dad,than his father Garnet Carlisle was.Garnet was a handsome man with black curly hair who worked various seasonal tasks as well as logged up in Canada for a time.Born with a short leg he wore a built up shoe even so he worked hard.Somehow he couldn't manage to find kindness in his heart toward my dad.
It would be many years before my father would tell me of the unkind way he was treated by his father.My grandmother Ethyl never seemed able to show affection and I thought how sad it must have been for my father to live in this cold situation all his young life.I believe this made me love my father all the more.
He was a strong and brave man.To me he was like Superman.He could outwork anybody I knew up until at age 74 he had a heart attack.The last ten years of his life found him fighting health problems.He fought gallantly and set a great example in so many ways.
The fox walked slowly away. Perhaps his stomach was full.Maybe he left contemplating the long story his friend had told.Either way,telling it made me proud of where I had come from to tell it."You are welcome for the meal!" I called after the red fox.He turned and looked back at me. That was thanks enough.
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