Pig Tales

Pine Mountain Settlement School
DANCING IN THE CABBAGE PATCH
Pig Tales


23 _campus _work_049

TAGS: pigs, shoats,  pork, ham,  Sammy,  Evangeline Bisho, ; children’s literature, kindergarten teachers, Little School, Pine Mountain Settlement School,  Harlan County, KY,  Kentucky Statute 256.090, fences


PIG TALES

In the early mountain years, pigs were a ready source of tall tales. Most every family could come up with a pig tale, but no one could top the tales of Solomon Shell who lived on Greasy Creek …

As his neighbors would have told you, pigs are hard to catch, but Solomon’s pig tales captured young and old. 

In the introduction of Percy MacKaye’s Tall Tales of the Kentucky Mountains the author captures a community reflection about the local story teller of tall tales — the notable mountain Munchhausen, Solomon Shell, who lived on Greasy Creek near Pine Mountain Settlement School. Shell’s story as told by MacKaye begins like this ….

In the mountains, the agile, acorn-fed generations of swine hold an epic rank in prowess and romance unknown to their sty-bred, slothful kindred of the lowlands. Mountain hogs are not merely stuff for the gorge of Mammon; they are also such gorgeous stuff as dreams are made on  –  arrayed, beyond pork-flesh, in the glamour of poetry. They are the highland freeholders. Alive on the wild trails, in both society and solitude; they are untrammeled companions of an untrammeled folk, free denizens of the mountain democracy. Even in death they are not Norman pork, but Saxon pig. Especially the sow which, with her litter of shoats, hugs closer to human palings, is an unfailing source of folk lore. Old Sol never tired of making her the heroine of his hog- tales. Thus in the charmed circle of the hearth- stone Solomon Shell appears to have been a fable-tongued godfather to tribes of mountain children. Stealing down out of the wintry hills, tapping at twilit cabin doors to pop in his coon-cap, he would herd his “godchilders” about his knees …..

Katherine Pettit, the founder of Pine Mountain felt keenly that pigs occupied a special place in Hell or at least she suggests that “Sammy” has become more than just an ordinary nuisance.

November 13, 1913

My Dear Friend:

The problem of a fence is confronting us now. Our kindergarten teacher who was here this summer was so diverted by our efforts to protect our garden, our crop and our grounds from the hogs that she wrote the enclosed account of the pig that interested her the most. Just how pronounced a pig’s personality is, you can guess from the fact that she even had to name them.

We are anxiously questioning just how long we must wait until “Sammy” and “his brothers and his sisters and his aunts” are excluded from their paradise.

We need a mile of fencing for the part of our 234 acres that we must fence. We can get a discount of from a generous manufacturer of the best hog-proof fencing, but even so, counting the cost of locust posts gates and post holes dug on steep ground, we need $700 before we begin. If you can’t be a “flying figure in blue jeans yelling ‘Suey!, Suey!, can you be a substitute in the shape of some rods of woven wire, five-foot fence?

Faithfully yours,
Katherine Pettit

enclosure in the letter: Story of “Sammy” by Evangeline Bishop

SAMMY

Just why Pine Mountain Settlement School should not benefit himself and family, as well as the humans of the community, was quite beyond Sammy’s comprehension.

Did he not possess cravings and unsatisfied longings for better things; did he not come to the close of each day hungry for the unattainable; and had he not heard that this School existed for the sole purpose of fulfilling needs?

The word “Settlement” but added charm, for to Sammy it gave visions of permanency and far reaching satisfaction. Yes! It was certainly good to be alive, and a member of this community, and he firmly resolved to be on hand every day, rain or shine in a receptive mood, ready to embrace every opportunity. To be filled to the utmost was his great ambition.

He and his brothers and sisters and immediate forebear grunted the subject over pro and con in their rock house under the cliff. Mammy Pig wise in the ways of humans, flopped her ears in doubt.

“It may prove to be an excellent school, it may fill every unsatisfied gnawing, but, I have my doubts.”

“One  and all I warn you to let them alone, for I have not only heard, but absolutely know, that humans eat little pigs.”

A tremor shot through the group, they glanced at one another with beady eyes, and uncurled their tails in horror.

Maternal advice did not cause Sammy loss of sleep, or deter him from making a personal investigation of the School.

The next morning, slipping quietly away, he trotted down the road, his tail curled tight in anticipation, and emitting grunts of keenest pleasure. With hope, confidence in himself and humanity at large, he made his way up the stepping stones toward a very large hole in the fence.

He was about to enter, when a voice rang  out —

“Walter! Walter! shut the gate, there’s a pig coming in.”

“Ugh,” grunted Sammy, “That must mean me, but why shouldn’t I enter the Land of Promise, I’d like to know?” and determinedly he trotted on.

Suddenly he wheeled and flew down the steps a flying figure in bluejeans after him, wildly waving its arms, throwing stones, and yelling, “Suey! Suey!” which interpreted by Sammy meant “Move on! Move on!”

“What highly excitable creatures humans are, ” thought Sammy as out of harm’s way he turned to view the “Land of Plenty.” 

The hole in the fence had disappeared. “Guess I’ll reconnoiter,” thought Sammy. “Perhaps there’s another hole.”

Cautiously he worked his way along the fence, touching it here and there, hoping a large hole might somehow mysteriously appear. Perseverance usually succeeds, and so it proved in Sammy’s case, for under the fence he found a hole just large enough to squeeze thro[ugh]. Elated, but a little doubtful, he made his way around the house. Not a human in sight. Hope beat high. A bucket near the kitchen door wafted most tantalizing odors to Sammy’s nostrils. What could it be? He must find out what that pail contained.

In another moment it was over, and Sammy gorging himself with all possible speed, for at any moment a dreaded human might appear. Never had he found anything quite so palatable. A few bread crumbs, potato peeling, beet parings, apple cores odds and ends of various delicious things hastily thrown together. So busy was the beneficiary of the School that he failed to hear approaching footsteps, but did not fail to hear another voice rending the air wit h “Allafair!  Allafair! here’s that pig again. he’s eating the chicken-feed up.”

2.

Around the corner shot a vision in flaming red, going through wild gymnastics.

“This is too much, I’m done for,” thought Sammy, and turned and fled.

“I wonder if I can ever find that hole again.”

Up the hill and down again, around the hose, and back of the tent, flew the pursued Sammy, wondering if that human’s attention would never cease.  It was simply awful! Horrors! another flying figure blotting the landscape shrieking ad passing through dreadful contortions. Stones and sticks rained through the air. With dreadful cunning Sammy’s every move was maneuvered. Before him appeared the big hole he now knew to be a gate. He made for it with all speed and shot through breathless but unharmed.

“Well! I never,” quoth Sammy. “I trust this will not occur often or I shall certainly lose flesh.”

He found a secluded spot, within hearing and paid strict attention. A voice explained —

“Well! Our troubles have begun. I expect we’ll be pestered all summer with those pigs.” Another voice chimed in —

“Everyone must be careful to keep the gate closed and the boys must look at the fence and fix any holes.”

“Oh dear! I do hope they won’t get into the garden and eat the tomatoes and corn up.”

Sammy had had excitement enough for one day, so wended his way slowly home to the rock house, under the cliff, there to consult further with his family and plan his summer’s campaign. If there was benefit to be derived from that school, he would get it.

The next day he unselfishly invited two of his brothers to accompany him. They arrived just in time to see a human in blue cross the road with a dish in her hand, and to hear, 

“Bertha, where are you going??”

“I’m going to feed the chickens” replied the blue human, and proceeded on her way.

“Chicken-feed,” mused Sammy. “Ugh! that’s what I ate yesterday and found good.” Aloud he said —

“Watch that human fellow, and see what she does with that chicken feed.”

Quietly they watched her pass through a gate, and disappear around the corner of a building. Then began a hurried running to and fro along the fence, in quest of a hole.

“Ugh! Ugh! Eureka! Eureka!” called Sammy. This way fellows to the chicken-feed,” and in another moment the feed was disappearing with surprising rapidity, but not in the direction intended.

” I thoroughly approve of this School, for the benefits it bestows are, —- ” Sammy’s remarks were cut short, for another shrieking human in a blue skirt and flapping collar, bore down upon the trio. They scattered and fled in confusion.

“Well! ” quoth Sammy from a safe retreat, “I am both surprised and horrified at the actions of these humans.  had heard they possessed calm and were dignified. I have also heard that they sometimes go crazy. I wonder if that is what the trouble is. It does seem strange that just the sight of e should throw them all into convulsions?”

“Perhaps there is something wrong with me.” Carefully he looked himself over and found to his entire satisfaction his tail properly curled, and himself a fair looking specimen of razorback pighood Therefore no blame could attach to him because of those queer human antics.

Day after day, week in and week out, he visited the School accepting of its benefits as the occasion presented itself.

3.

Day after day, week in and week out, the same wild commotion resulted among the humans.

He overheard someone say the back yard needed cleaning up. He concluded here was a chance to return good for evil, found an entrance, and went to work, beginning on a basket of apples. For his efforts he received a stone, and a hurried “Suey! — Suey!” with emphasis.

He brought his whole family down and strove to put the chicken yard in order even here the ungrateful humans interfered. Nothing daunted he retired to the barn ad invited his brothers to help him clean out the mules’ feed boxes, and so save them the trouble. But even in that remote spot peace was not to be found.

Go where he would, do what he could, the situation was spoiled by the sudden appearance of a wild and exclamatory human.

One day he bethought himself of the remarks he had heard earlier in the season, of a garden and tomatoes, corn, etc. 

He would investigate immediately.

He consulted his mother. She knew where said garden was, but warned him to let well enough alone, but perseverance being Sammy’s strongest characteristic it fairly pushed him into that garden.

It is wholly unnecessary to linger long upon the consternation and sorrow created among the humans; the havoc wrought by Sammy and his immediate relatives, or his own personal inner satisfaction, at this his latest venture.

Could he have heard the sadness and longing in the vices of the humans, whose sole vegetable diet for weeks had consisted of string beans or beheld their woebegone countenance as they contemplated the work of his mouth, and thought upon the cool, green vegetables that had disappeared into the stomachs of his family, Sammy might have been struck with contrition for the havoc of his summer’s campaign.

As it was, the garden was far from the School proper and only occasionally did a peculiar human wander through, and Sammy was happy.

All good things come to an end sometime, and one sad day Sammy heard that a brand new wire fence that pigs could neither get over, through or under was wanted.

A consultation of the Pig family resulted. Sammy’s only comment was 

“Well This certainly has been a strenuous summer for me and from a pig’s standpoint, I question the wisdom of that School. Personally, I do not care to come into close contact with those humans and certainly hope I have caused them fully as much trouble this summer as they have caused me.”

Turning over on his side he went to sleep to dream of a fenceless garden, filled with every known vegetable, rich pans of chicken-feed here and there, and whole boxes of mule feed just waiting for him, and best of all this pigs’ paradise utterly devoid of humans. 

Dear Friend Letters: Evangeline Bishop

004 Pigs in road. loomis_negatives_004

One just might begin to wonder what were the fencing regulations for farm animals in Kentucky when Sammy and friends were running amok through any garden they fancied. By 1942 families with gardens had had enough. and fence laws came into being in Kentucky.

KENTUCKY STATE FENCE LAWS 1942 –

By the 1930’s and 40’s the Kentucky regulations controlling the free-roaming movement of livestock had been addressed and some laws prohibited free-ranging animals and addressed stray animals and trespassing.

The laws governing stray animals and trespass were spelled out in the State’s Fence Laws, State of Kentucky These laws went into effect in 1942

If the owner or bailee of livestock has a lawful fence, and his or her livestock break through or over the fence and upon the premises of another which are not enclosed by a lawful fence, he or she shall not be responsible for the first trespass but shall be liable for all subsequent trespasses.

Effective: June 29, 2017

Terms Used In Kentucky Statute 256.090

    • Lawful fence: means : (a) A strong and sound fence, four (4) feet high, so close that cattle cannot creep through, made of rails [paling fence], or plank, or wire and plank, or iron, or hedge, or stone or brick. See Kentucky Statutes 256.010
    • livestock: means cattle, sheep, swine, goats, horses, alpacas, llamas, buffaloes, or any other animals of the bovine, ovine, porcine, caprine, equine, or camelid species. See Kentucky Statutes 256.010
    • Owner: when applied to any animal, means any person having a property interest in such animal. See Kentucky Statutes 446.010

History: Amended 2017 Ky. Acts ch. 129, sec. 25, effective June 29, 2017. — Recodified 1942 Ky. Acts ch. 208, sec. 1, effective October 1, 1942, from Ky. Stat. sec. 1788.

23_campus_work_048 Shoats (baby pigs) at PMSS



Sammy’s “Pig Paradise” would never be the same.  Good fences did make good neighbors but the joy of telling a good pig tale became harder to find.



See  DEAR FRIEND LETTERS – INDEX

         DEAR FRIENDS LETTERS 1913

         DANCING IN THE CABBAGE PATCH

VALENTINES From the Past

Pine Mountain Settlement School
Series 09: BIOGRAPHY – Staff, Students
Valentines from the Past

VALENTINES FROM THE PAST

[pmss_valentine_wiki_greetings.j;pg]


TAGS: valentines from the past, staff, students, community, valentine cards, excerpts, Stapleton reports, sugar-cookies, valentine parties, Pine Cone, Alice Cobb, Edith Cold, crafts, Community Group, Co-op program, Margaret Kraatz Wright, love letters


VALENTINES FROM THE PAST

In various ways, the PMSS staff, students and community of the past have sent us valentines. Through letters, narratives, publications, photographs and reports, they told us who they were and how they lived and worked. And throughout the 100-plus years of the Pine Mountain Settlement School’s existence, forward-thinking people saved these treasures so that succeeding generations may gain a deeper understanding of days gone by.

To celebrate Valentine’s Day, here are a few valentines from the past … about valentines:

STAPLETON REPORT 1928 – February

Valentine, c. 1930. Source: Chordboard [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Dr. Ira Stapleton and Rev. Robert Stapleton worked at the Line Fork Medical Settlement from 1926 through 1937. Dr. Stapleton sent reports back to their employer, Katherine Pettit, and the PMSS Board of Trustees on a quarterly and monthly basis. The reports detailed much about dealing with the many health issues they encountered but they also recorded their daily interactions with members of the local community. In a 1928 report, Dr. Ira Stapleton wrote:

I made some Valentine sugar-cookies and they were so good Grandpap and Bennet “‘lowed they must have come from the store.” I felt quite complimented as I do not make cookies very often….Finding two heart-shaped cookie cutters among the kitchen furnishings I was tempted to make some for the school children at Bear Branch and there was enough for the birthday-man also. The smaller was placed on top of the larger one and when baked stood out in a pretty relief.

Valentine Party: PINE CONE 1933 March

Scan of a Valentine greeting card depicting Cupids circa 1900. By Chordboard - Self, from material in my possession. Public Domain.[https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4310719]

Valentine, c. 1900. Source: Chordboard [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

THE PINE CONE was a literary publication written and published by PMSS students during the Boarding School years and intermittently printed in later years. The Pine Cone was also printed as a general newsletter with the first publication produced in 1929. Here is one of the articles appearing on page 3 in the March 1933 issue.

VALENTINE PARTY
Great was our delight when we each received an invitation to go the Valentine Party in costume Saturday night, Feb. 18. We went and had a good time playing games. Refreshments were served and prizes were given for the funniest, best costumed, prettiest and those who came the nearest pinning on the tail of a donkey in the right place. There was a good place for fishing so we fished for our fortunes. My! I hope some of them don’t come true.

Valentine Cards: ALICE COBB STORIES Handing Over Divide Sunday School to Miss Cold, June 1937

Scan of a Valentine greeting card circa 1920. VALENTINES from the Past

Valentine, c. 1920. Source: Chordboard [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

In Alice Cobb’s letter to Edith Cold, who was replacing Miss Cobb as a Sunday School teacher, she describes the part of the Sunday School schedule during which the children do “handwork.”  

There are plenty of scissors, crayons, and pencils in the Sunday School shelf, a few Sunday School papers, lots of blank paper, and some valentine, birthday, and Easter cards. I use the Christmas cards every week. They simply love them, and look forward to a card with the paper. To show how much they treasure even the most worthless thing — I gave one of the little boys a handful of scraps from the drawer to put in the stove, and he asked if he might have them to take home!

Valentine Cards: COMMUNITY GROUP ASSEMBLY May 20, 1942

Valentine, c. 1915. Source: Missouri History Museum via Wikimedia Commons

First-hand accounts, written by students and presented at the Community Group Assembly, describe their part in the work of the Community Group and the Co-op program at Pine Mountain that took the students out into the community to work with families. Here is an excerpt from a report presented by Flora Mae Ford:

School is no more than well started when along comes the succession of holidays — Columbus Day, Hallowe’en, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentine Day, and Lincoln’s and Washington’s birthdays, Easter — and the teachers are anxious to have room decorations made, the children want to make mementos of those days to take home, too. … Of course there is no greater joy for us than when we prepare a Christmas treat for each child and deliver it on the last visit before the vacation — unless it’s when the valentine box is opened and we find lots of valentines (the kinds we have taught them to make) addressed to us.

Love Letters: MARGARET KRAATZ WRIGHT CORRESPONDENCE 1930-1932

In the mood to read love letters? The letters of Margaret Kraatz Wright, an eager PMSS teacher during the early 1930s, tell that kind of story. Romancing her future husband through correspondence, Margaret takes a journey that is humorous, touching, incomprehensible, and often maddening, but a journey that eventually won her a lifetime partner.

One of the larger collections of personal letters in the Pine Mountain staff holdings is digitized at MARGARET KRAATZ WRIGHT Correspondence 1930-1932, providing images of the letters and accompanying summaries. If the reader follows the summaries or is patient with the idiosyncrasies of her handwriting in the images, the stories will charm and engage.


See Also: 
LETTERS to a Sweetheart


Earth Day and Mary Rogers 1970-2024

Pine Mountain Settlement School
DANCING IN THE CABBAGE PATCH
Earth Day and Mary Rogers
1970 – 2024
EARTH DAY

“Oh, no man knows through what wild centuries roves back the rose.” Suddenly time disappeared and I seemed to be looking down the vistas of eternity.”

ENVIRONMENTAL PIONEERS at Pine Mountain (left to right) Elihu Afton Garrison, Mary Rogers, Burton Rogers, , [pmss_archives_mr & mrs rogers_DB photo]

SIX years have now passed since this hopeful first blog was written — an homage to the gentle Pine Mountain Settlement School environmentalist, Mary Rogers and pioneers such as Afton Garrison. To those all who gave birth to the Environmental Education program at Pine Mountain and who daily celebrated EARTH DAY.  Today, on Earth Day we should be joining in celebrating the more than 50 years of EARTH DAY. We should be enjoying the successes that Mary and others such as the brave international student, Greta Thunberg, who foregrounded our need to re-think our relationship to our environment. We should be living in a world waking to the dangers lurking in our bad habits. Yet, here we are not joined in celebration but distanced from one another and fearful of the world around us — seen and unseen.

EARLIER COMMENTS

Last year seems eons ago as we look out on an entire planet on the edge of an apocalyptic invasion of COVID 19, and now echoes of war fill our press, and vast lands are ravaged by fire, drought, and flood. We are still questioning our over-use of resources and what they have given to our quality of life on this earth, while our plastic fills our oceans. We are in continuous engagement and a fragmented battle with a virus that shouts the message that our relationship with the world is out of balance. It is on that note that this former post is re-posted with the hope that we will continue to move forward, pushed by the new threats to the world that Mary wanted for us all.

Pine Mountain Settlement School will not retreat from the environmental challenges before us ALL. We will continue to remind ALL who will listen, of the legacy that has always been a part of the mission of the Settlement School. For the sake of humanity, we encourage you to join us in the tasks before us; face the challenges and actually work toward solutions that will change our future to one that works for all of us, not just a few. “Some things never change ,” but sometimes they do, because we believe that we are all in this together.

March 21. It was the time of Equinox when night and day are of equal length and when the earth seems to hesitate briefly in its spin as it slips into the longer communion with the sun. In 1983, March 21 had already been changed to April 22 as the universal “Earth Day.” Even earlier, Mary Rogers had set the idea of “Earth Day” firmly in her mind. On March 21, 1983, Mary Rogers slipped into her “sub specie aeternitatis” [Latin for “under the aspect of eternity”] Earthbound, we can know little of her eternity but we have often imagined that it is an exquisite balance of time and space which recognizes the temporal but is not bound to its limits. This is not a story of that enigma eternity but it is a glimpse into part of Mary Rogers’ journey in the temporal world and the wise environmental and spiritual messages she left with those she touched.

NASA/ GSFC/ NOAA/ USGS [Public domain]

The earth swirling with life and framed by the vast blackness of deep space is an iconic image with which we are now quite familiar. The enigma of suspension, the sheer beauty of our home, and the scale of that home in the vast universe is arresting. Suspended in eternity, we are charged to protect this vibrant home. Perhaps this is why the image of planet earth suspended in space has become the symbol of Earth Day. The image reminds us of our fragile existence in an unknown but expanding universe. How remarkable it is that we can now hold that enormous image in our mind’s eye and wonder at it blueness, its roundness, its surface teeming with life — our life. Mary Rogers was, without doubt, entranced by that remarkable image that holds all of earth’s humanity, but more often she was exploring small things; the universe of small life on that shimmering globe. In her diary notes, “Small Things with a Message,” she tells us

MILKWEED PODS

I love milkweed pods. The perfectly overlapped red brown seeds. The gloriously silky plumes, to feel which is one of the great tactile joys of life. Then comes the moment when it all boils up from the pod and flies off into the air —- pure beauty.

I was holding one once and could hardly bear it that I was alone and there was no one to share it with. But God saw it. It was his and he made it and he must have loved to see it — and he let me share that joy.


—- Mary Rogers. Seed Thoughts, 1990. “Small Things With a Message”
LITTLE BROWN JUG

The little brown jug is one of the least attractive flowers in the woods, and hardly anyone sees it as it is hidden beneath dead leaves. You have to clear them off to find it. When you find it its only appeal is its oddity. Its color is drab, the color of red and green mixed together — muddy. It is closed. Its three blunt lobes are the only opening on the small fleshy bottle of the flower. But take a knife and cut it open. It is lined with a rich dark red velvet like an expensive jewel box, and set in the box is a jewel like a tiara with its whitish stamens and anthers. Beautiful! What is the point of this beauty? Few people ever see it. Even the pollinating insects grope around in the dark. What a waste! There are millions of beauties even in this world which are never seen by man, but their creator knows them and has joy in them.


—- Mary Rogers. Seed Thoughts, 1990. “Small Things With a Message”
Fungus. Just one of the small things that carries a universe of beauty within. [Photo: Helen Wykle]
EARTH DAY BEGINNINGS

The first Earth Day according to many records was conceived by John McConnell, Jr. a peace activist and a Pentecostal from Southern California. McConnell, Jr., born on March 21, 1915, in Davis City, IA. He was the son of a itinerate doctor and was raised in the deeply religious ethic of the family that held to the idea of service to others. McConnell, Jr.’s early job working for a corporation that produced plastics caused him to question his responsibility to the earth and was the beginning of a long journey that sought to call-out actions that endangered the planet and the many lives that shared it. He initiated the idea of “Earth Day.”

It was through the eloquent advocacy of McConnell, Jr. for an Earth Day that the idea found its way onto the 1970 agenda of the National UNESCO conference in San Francisco in 1970. Through McConnell and others, his initial proposal was given serious consideration and an Earth Day Proclamation by the city of San Francisco was made. The date chosen for the celebration of this first “Earth Day” and organized by McConnell, was March 21, 1970. The day was also McConnell’s birthday. The event captured the imagination of many and large celebrations were held in San Diego and in New York, as well. McConnell had opened the milkweed’s pod and the silky plumes were loosed to the winds and the seeds began to grow.

Mary Rogers was, no doubt, encouraged by the work of McConnell, but she had a long head-start on the idea of Earth Day. To her mind, her every day had been an “Earth Day” and the seeds of her journey had been planted early in her life. When she helped to organize the first formal educational offerings at Pine Mountain Settlement School in 1972, it was just ten years after the publication of Rachel Carson‘s groundbreaking Silent Spring (1962), a book that was of profound interest to Mary. Carson’s work was in many ways the beginning of the environmental education movement.

Following McConnell’s launch on March 21, 1970 came an official proclamation from Washington that echoed the sentiments of McConnell but that put a national urgency to McConnell’s idea and that shifted the celebratory date from March 21 to April 22. This date shift was initiated by Senator Gaylord Nelson, an environmentalist from Wisconsin who believed that the new date would allow schools to map their instruction more closely with school calendars throughout the country. The new date would also allow time to work through the national bureaucracy which would fix the event in the national calendar. It would be a bi-partisan effort. Democratic Senator, Gaylord Nelson, with the assistance of Pete McCloskey, a Republican Congressman from California, jointly announced a national “Earth Day” for 1970, and for the successive years. Nelson and McCloskey then recruited Harvard scholar, Denis Hayes as the coordinator of the new Earth Day and charged him with the process of creating an annual “national teach-in on the environment” throughout the country.

LARGEST SECULAR CELEBRATION ON EARTH

In 1970, the April 22 designation of a national Earth Day resulted in massive national demonstrations for the environment and by the end of the year, it had spawned a bi-partisan creation of the United States Environmental Protection Agency and the passage of the Clean Air, Clean Water, and the Endangered Species Acts. The interest and cooperation did not stop at the national level. Denis Hayes built on the national Earth Day planning and went on to found the even larger “Earth Day Network” which was expanded to over 180 nations and garnered the endorsement of the General Assembly of the United Nations. The International Mother Earth Day still remains the earth’s largest secular celebration.

Under President Jimmy Carter, Denis Hayes would later become the head of the Solar Energy Research Institute (1977) (now, National Renewable Energy Laboratory) By 2016 the Federal appropriations for renewable energy resources reflected the national attention to the environment with increased appropriations in solar energy, wind energy, biomass, and biorefinery systems, hydrogen technology, geothermal technology, and water power. Today, those initiatives continue to struggle forward. [Yesterday, April 21, 2020 the price of oil fell below 0.] We still continue to celebrate but our memories don’t always find partners in our actions.

SEED THOUGHTS

Mary’s reflections in Seed Thoughts

Each one of us comes into the world beautifully crafted to give light — maybe as candles or lamps, with wick and fuel, maybe as electric bulbs with the outer container to hold the filament or gas, and we are trying to improve on these by making them make [a] more effective use of the power.

The power: all the candles, lamps and light bulbs in the world are so much clutter unless they are ignited, and if they are damaged through improper use the only thing to do with them is to dump them in the trash. …

— Mary Rogers. Seed Thoughts. “Ye Are the Light of the World”

While the annual efforts of Pine Mountain in building their Environmental Education Program (EE) were modest, they were timely, and over the 47 years from 1972 forward, Pine Mountain has touched the lives of some 3000 students and teachers annually. The history of environmental education at Pine Mountain Settlement reveals an ever-evolving program and commitment. The mission is persistent. The reach of the program is extraordinary. The lives of students, teachers, and other adults have been close to 144,000 [now, many more] over the years of the Environmental Education Program (EE). The longevity of the program speaks to the need for such programs in the schools and the outcomes speak to our future on this small blue globe, called earth.

Stream ecology class. Environmental education class – St. Francis School at PMSS [Staff photo]

Mary Rogers was at her core, a very private person. She was never comfortable being called the center of the programming for Pine Mountain’s environmental education, and often pointed to the many skilled EE educators who came and went, particularly Afton Garrison, Ben, and Pat Begley , David Siegenthaler, and others. But no one who knew her will contest Mary’s central role in the formation of the EE program at Pine Mountain. Her work and that of those who followed her at the School provided the first model of environmental education in the State of Kentucky. Her self-taught inspiration and knowledge were recognized in 1988 by the Kentucky Association of Environmental Education which presented Mary and he colleague Afton Garrison their coveted award for excellence in the environmental education field. In 2015, Dr. Melinda Wilder, who sits on the Pine Mountain Board of Trustees was honored with the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Kentucky Association of Environmental Education for her dedication to many of Mary’s aspirations.

The wisdom of Mary may also be found in the creation of the Green Book, the early manual of instruction for the Environmental Education Program at Pine Mountain. It continues to be the underlying structural tool for the ongoing Pine Mountain program. Though major changes have occurred in the standard course of instruction mandated by Kentucky schools, the early work of Pine Mountain helped to guide the restructuring of the state curriculum in the sciences. Going forward, Mary and her successors have continued their advocacy for the environment and have gained new voices and teachers. In her lifetime Mary was a legend, a resource that was incomparable. With her death in 1993, a profound presence and resource went away but not very far.

At the end of her life, following a diagnosis of cancer, Mary looked back at her notes and her diary of written reflections. The brief thoughts she jotted down on that reflection reveal moments of illumination and doubt and deep spirituality. Only a few of these notes of inspiration are shared here. Yet, a large number of her thoughts are, no doubt, carried in the minds of those whose lives were touched by her instruction. The notes, which she titled, “Seed Thoughts” speak of the important revelations that can come at any point in life and that she compared to seeds that grow. As she gathered her many notes to create Seed Thoughts she advised that she selected the ideas that seemed to stick most firmly to her memories and which she “nourished”. She says modestly of those memories

Now, in 1990, I find my mind getting more boring to live with, less tuned in to joy, my memory losing its clarity, my powers of expression somehow blunted, but I want to record some of the incidents which have stood by me as truth… instances I have used in talks given in various places, …These incidents are seeds. Seeds are lovely little things, full of potential, but to realize that potential they must be planted, take root, receive nourishment and grow … to their full richness and glory.

— Mary Rogers, Seed Thoughts, 1990.
EE Staff – [left to right] Scott Matthies, Mary Rogers, Afton Garrison, Steve ?, Cami Hamilton, David Siegenthaler (Director of programming). c. 1980 & 1981. [X_100_workers_2604_mod.jpg]

For those who knew Mary, it would be difficult to describe anything that she said as “boring.” She shared her enormous wealth of environmental information with such sincerity and conviction and a beautiful British accent, that even the most hardened skeptics were often swayed and rapt attention followed. That attention was found across age ranges as she shared her reflections on nature.

She left hundreds, if not thousands as friends of the earth. Her heartfelt will to bring her audience into her focused spiritual realm was not a hard-shell proselytizing, as often found in the Appalachians, yet it left few untouched by the spirituality of nature’s offerings. By sharing her wealth of knowledge with the many, many children and adults who passed through the Environmental Education (EE) program, —-what she envisioned and fostered at Pine Mountain Settlement School was also a life-lesson in labor, love, and sacrifice. The many years that Mary gave to the Environmental Education Program was unpaid service.

Late in life, she struggled with the idea of service and what it means to share one’s gifts for free. Nature’s gifts are also free, she rationalized. The foundational ideas and inspiration flowed freely from both sources. Her life was also a lesson in values. The environment is not an unlimited free resource, nor are people. Nature and people often come with hidden costs. Educational programming and days, such as Earth Day remind us of our responsibility to give back. And, the greatest “give back” is to be educated in the stewardship of this precious and fragile environment we all share on this great blue planet that freely gives us so very much.

I receive so much in food and housing and care, — but money? How wonderful it would be if like the monks we felt we could live without having to be reimbursed with money. I have a strong inner sense that so many of the evils of the world would be weeded out if people could live their lives for the service they can give for the love of God, and not for higher pay.

Has one the faith to say, “I don’t want a salary.” It seems so lacking in faith not to, and yet getting old may be very expensive if one becomes unable to work, and has to have constant care. One doesn’t want to foist the responsibility for the time spent in care and the money spent on care onto anyone else, yet if one can’t live one’s testimony it is not a testimony, and if one doesn’t believe God is faithful one is faithless. How much should we save for our old age?

—Mary Rogers. Seed Thoughts, “Our Lady Poverty”. “Absolute Poverty”
SIMILITUDES

In February of 1992, Mary was given a book by Phillip Keller, As the Tree Grows (1966). It is as Mary described it is a “similitude.” She says of the Keller work, “He uses the symbols differently but it is a splendid “similitude”. How the living tree and the living person is sustained. Many points amplify what I have already written …” She follows that with her own similitude

In spite of the fact that a few plants still stick with the old way of extracting shreds of energy from the rocks, yet most living things, from the amoeba to the whale, from the algae to the giant redwood, from microorganism to man, all live, grow and function by virtue of the energy the sun supplies through the medium of the plants. We people are only able to grow, to think, to move by virtue of the sunlight collected and stored by the leaves of plants. We are built, we operate by virtue of the sun’s energy present in every part of our bodies. Our coal, our oil, the energies after which we scrabble among the fossil rocks, come from the same source. We wouldn’t need to agonize over our supplies of coal and oil, fossils holding on to their living energy if we could turn to the sun directly, for it is still shining today and every day. More energy reaches us from the sun than we could possibly use.

Often we hunt for spiritual energy from among the fossilized doctrines from the past, and ignore the vast available source of spiritual power with which we are, as it were, bombarded every second of every day, and bleat sadly because we are powerless.

—Mary Rogers. Seed Thoughts, Similitudes – The Sun
Forest at Pine Mountain Settlement School. [Photo: H.Wykle]

Her close friend, Milly Mahoney, teacher and educational leader at the settlement school, described her friend in a talk she gave in October 1998, to the local chapter of the D.A.R. , shortly after Mary’s passing. She quoted some of the many tributes to Mary by her co-workers and her students. For example, a former anonymous staff member of the EE team said, “I never could seem to find the detail, wealth and wonder in a rock, a seed or a flower that Mary could see and illuminate so beautifully with her reverent description and exclamations.”

Few who met Mary will ever forget the messages that Mary drew from the natural environment — this author, included. She drew from a deep well of joy and excitement that never ran dry and that was fed by her deep love of nature and her spirituality. For her, there was an inseparable relationship between ecology and spirituality and it was presented with deeply held conviction. Her spiritual nature was no doubt spawned by her early life as the daughter of a Vicar of the Church of England in the small town of Greenham in Berkshire, England, but it was nurtured by the Eden she found in the Pine Mountain Valley, a location that continues to inspire awe and a sense of wonder and reverence in those who spend time there.

Mary Rogers working with Environmental Education program at Pine Mountain. X_100_workers_2669_mod.jpg

When Mary described the Environmental Education Program in one of the brochures sent out by the School, she quoted from Thomas Merton, “… to help visitors come to see and respect the visible creation which mirrors the glory and the perfection of the invisible God.” Many of those visitors took that advice to heart and one wrote

Observation, a sense of wonder, a measure of understanding, and hopefully love for the created world may spring from such experiences. A sense of wonder is easier to transmit than pure information and in the long-run is probably the most important thing learned.”

—Anon

Sharing excerpts from Mary Rogers “Seed Thoughts” on this Earth Day, 2019, [2020] we continue the efforts of Pine Mountain to engage a broader audience, fire the imagination, and to remind our friends that decisions regarding the environment have consequences for our fragile and endangered planet and for us. [COVID 19 is our giant wake-up to how rapidly our lives can change] Another gentle reminder is found in an example taken from Mary’s Seed Thoughts and one that she dates to her early childhood. It demonstrates how early she came to her environmentalism and how deeply implanted her connection to the environment remained throughout her life.

THE WILD ROSE
A rose in front of Old Log at Pine Mt. Settlement
[Photo: Helen Wykle]

THE WILD ROSE

There were not many “pretty” walks round Little Common in Sussex (near Bexhill). We spent summer holidays there at our grandparents’ for many years. At home we were used to roving at will over our Common at Greenham in Berkshire, with its distant views of the Hampshire downs and its heather and gorse expanses with their marshy gullies and surrounding farms and woodlands. We found the Sussex countryside drab, but we were used to going for walks, and one summer when I was 7 or 8 we went for a walk to the “High Woods”, with our governess and our aunt.

I recall it as one of those grey days when nothing looks interesting. As we went along a lane between hedges I stepped to the ditch line to look at a wild rose, pale pink and delicate with its golden heart of stamens. As I looked into its face I found myself repeating lines of a poem I loved ….

Oh, no man knows through what wild centuries roves back the rose.” [Nor forward]

Suddenly time disappeared and I seemed to be looking down the vistas of eternity.

That moment has stayed with me, and when I later read that Brother Lawrence‘s tree had been a deep experience for him, I recalled my rose. When I saw it the first time I consciously realized that all of time and space experienced as everyday time was unreal compared to this experience. A new dimension was to be with me and stay for the rest of my life. Yes, we were living in the temporal, but nothing can be limited by time. That consciousness has never left me.

I couldn’t put it into words at the time and didn’t want to. It was personal and interior but all-pervading.

— Mary Rogers. Seed Thoughts. “The Wild Rose”

ALL THAT’S PAST

Very old are the woods;
And the buds that break
Out of the brier’s boughs,
When March winds wake,
So old with their beauty are —
Oh, no man knows
Through what wild centuries
Roves back the rose. 
Very old are the brooks;
And the rills that rise
Where snow sleeps cold beneath
The azure skies
Sing such a history
Of come and gone,
Their every drop is as wise
As Solomon.

Very old are we men;
Our dreams are tales
Told in dim Eden
By Eve’s nightingales;
We wake and whisper awhile,
But the day gone by,
Silence and sleep like fields of aramanth lie


Walter de la Mare. “All That’s Past” from The Listeners and Other Poems 1912
Road to Big Log with sheep shed to left and 'Lady' headed home.  [Photo: H. Wykle]
Road to Big Log house where Mary Rogers spent much of her life, with sheep shed to left and ‘Lady’ the current “herder” headed home. [Photo: Helen Wykle]

Helen Wykle
Easter Sunday
April 21, 2019

SEE ALSO

MARY ROGERS Similitudes

LOREN KRAMER The First Earth Day at Pine Mountain Settlement School

MARY ROGERS Uncle William’s Mandate to Pine Mountain

ENVIRONMENTAL EDUCATION PROGRAM (EE) Guide



Updated HW
Wednesday
April 21, 2020

Updated HW
Wednesday
March 9, 2022

Updated HW
Monday
March 23, 2024

Cows

Pine Mountain Settlement School
DANCING IN THE CABBAGE PATCH
COWS

Cows

Ayrshire herd at Grapevine Knoll, Pine Mountain Settlement. [nace_1_052a.jpg]

THE COW

In the collection of the archive at Pine Mountain there is a curious and fanciful scrapbook of everything “cow”. Collected by Elizabeth Hench a member of the Pine Mountain Board of Trustees, the body of material celebrates the ruminating bovine. It is rich in images and quotables, as well as cartoons and paintings that capture moments all too familiar to those who share or have shared their lives with cows. Hench calls her scrapbook, “Joy Made History” and it features the Ayrshires that made up the large herd that became the pride of Pine Mountain Settlement School’s farm. But, that’s a later story. However, one particular fragment in the scrapbook collection caught my eye. It was a chapter removed from a little book of rural reminiscences called Bucolic Beatitudes by the author “Rusticus”. Published in 1925 by the Atlantic Monthly Press of Boston, the little book’s cow chapter was pasted inside the scrapbook. It was titled “Blessed Be the Cow.”

RUSTICUS

This one bucolic fragment by Rusticus calls up memories of the many cows I have known. The chapter charmed my imagination. It describes a chance communion of Rusticus with his milk cow, “Dolly” which changes his day of discontent to one of joy. Because I grew up with cows, it is not surprising to me that the mood change occurred when Rusticus made an unexpected bond with his “contented cow.”

Rusticus, as the author calls himself, had escaped a family gathering and small irritations on his farm by taking a walk. In the hot summer sun, he found a tree in his pasture and languished under its shade. Soon he was joined by the family milk cow, “Dolly” who also relished the shade of the tree. Dolly had ambled to the tree, and begun to chew her cud while curiously eyeing her owner. Both man and cow were soon prone on the grass not far from each other. Dolly chewed slowly on her cud and Rusticus ruminated on the relationship of man to animal as he stared at the contented cow. The following is Rusticus’ short description of their subtle communion

There being nothing else to look at, I looked at Dolly. She was chewing her cud. The slow rhythmic precision of her technique fascinated me. I particularly admired the sideways movement of the lower jaw. She stopped; a gentle genuflection of the neck was noticeable; and she resumed. I had never had a chance to observe a cow before and I made the most of it. I felt that I was seeing for the first time the noble dignity of her head, her broad fine brow, and above all the eyes, serene and beautiful.

Rusticus. Bucolic Beatitudes, Boston: the Atlantic Monthly Press, 1925, pp 58-9

Rusticus continues his observations until the cow stirred, got to her feet and started the path to the barn. It was milk time and a cow feels milk-time calling her. Man and cow ambled slowly to the barn where Dolly is the be milked by a farm hand whom Rusticus calls, “The Incomparable One”. The process of milking that Rusticus so carefully described in this little book is also documented in photographs taken at Pine Mountain in the early years of the School before the Ayrshire herd was begun. Though, I doubt that “The Incomparable One” would have ever shown up barefoot. ‘

Milking the cow in the barnyard at Pine Mountain Settlement School, c. 1918. mccullough_IV_135b

Dolly now in place … With hands and arms glistening from recent soapy ablutions, he [The Incomparable One] takes the pail and holds it to the sun. He examines every inch of it critically and with deliberate care … His examination complete, we go where Dolly waits. He takes his place on gently tilted stool; we stand to one side. He pulls his rolled-back sleeves an inch higher, his great firm hands are rubbed together and then the fingers flex in smooth preparatory exercises. He leans forward and gently touches each teat in turn. From each he pulls a tiny lactic stream and lets it fall upon the clean rye straw beneath his feet. This is not done because — as held by some — the first milk contains more impurities than the rest; it is a libation, a propitiatory offering to whatever god there be who presides over the destines of cattle and impecunious rural sentimentalists.

And now the upward glance. A little figure, each in daily turn, takes its place and Dolly’s swinging tail is gently held at rest. The pail is raised to its position between extended knees, and all is ready. I notice that the milker adheres to the proper school. I do not hold, myself, for a position with the forehead of the milker pressed against the bovine flank; rather I like to see the left knee gently touching the off hind leg. It is a satisfaction to see things done with a nice attention to detail.

An now we hear the first streams strike the bottom of the empty pail. The shrill staccato of their impact is the overture, soon muffled by the increasing flood. The cadence slows; we are in the full orchestral swing by now. The milker’s bowed head is slowly raised, and, as the white foam nears the top he looks aloft. He sways a bit on his tilted stool; his head moves gently back and forth like some inspired conductor carrying his musician through the difficult passages of a mighty symphony. And now the beat quickens, the little streams leap into the rising tide of foam with soft lisping sounds. A final volley; then a few soft notes, long-drawn, and it is done.

… ‘Half quart off to-night — the grass is getting dry,” he says.’


Rusticus. Bucolic Beatitudes. Boston:The Atlantic Monthly Press, 1925, p.64-66

The ritual described in this short passage from Bucolic Beatitudes, was repeated over and again on early small Appalachian farms of those lucky enough to own such a gentle bovine ruminator. But the chore of milking was most often accomplished by the woman of the household, not a man.

A humorous mountain ballad captures the load the Appalachian woman often endures in house and on farm. It also calls out the relationships that cows often make with the milker. Cows, like people come with attitude and some cows are not quite so cooperative or bucolic as Dolly. The following brief stanza from “The Old Man in the Wood,” that I sang as a child, describes what happens when the man of the household brags that he can “… do more work in a day, than his wife can do in three…”

THE OLD MAN IN THE WOOD

There was an old man who lived in the woods
As you can plainly see
Who said he could do more work in a day
Than his wife could do in three

“If that be true,” the old woman said,
“Why this you must allow:
You must do my work for one day
While I go drive the plow.”

“Now you must milk the tiny cow
For fear she shall go dry
And you must feed the three little pigs
That are within the stye
And you must watch the speckled hen
For fear she’ll go astray
And you must wind the reel of yarn
That I spun yesterday.

The woman she took the staff in her hand
And went to drive the plow
The old man took the pail in his hand
And went to milk the cow.
Tiny hitched, and Tiny switched
And Tiny cocked her nose
Tiny gave the old man such a kick
That the blood ran down to his toes….etc

After failing to complete all the other tasks he said of his wife

Yes, he swore by all the leaves on the trees
And all the stars in heaven
That his wife could do more work in one day
Than he could do in seven.


Jean Ritchie. The Swapping Song Book, Lexington: Univ. Press of KY, and collected by Pine Mountain Settlement School in the PMSS Song Ballads and Other Songs printed and published by Pine Mountain Settlement School.

Many of the nine Ritchie Family children attended Pine Mountain Settlement School and also nearby Hindman Settlement. Jean attended public school and the University of Kentucky later becoming a well known folk singer. See PMSS records for May Ritchie, Truman Ritchie, Patty Ritchie, Una Ritchie, Kitty Ritchie.

A happy ‘Dolly” cow being milked and fed. Where is the bucket? mccullough_III_096b

Cow tales abound in the Pine Mountain literature. And cow tails figure in many of the tales. When Tiny “twitched and Tiny switched” that was in reference to the switching tail used to dispense the many flies that often troubled the summer milk cow as well as troubling the milker. When Rusticus described the “little figure” coming to help the “Incomparable one,” he was, no doubt referring to some child assigned to this task. The photograph below, demonstrates the firm grasp of the tail which keeps it under control for the milker to progress.

Child tending cow to keep tail from switching on the woman milking. c. 1930s [nace_II_album_017.jpg]

FIRST, YOU HAVE TO FIND THE COW

Not only is milking a challenge, first, in the early years, one had to find the cow. Before range laws were in place, cows roamed freely in Appalachia and in other places in the Country. The cows were generally fitted with cow bells to more easily locate them. The bells were not just auditory ornaments, they were a GPS system that children could use to correlate cow and sound. Before the cow could be milked it had to be found and brought in for milking and be secured for the night. The following story by a Pine Mountain School student (unnamed) describes the task of finding the cow — a chore that was often assigned —- like tail holding — to children.

AS I LOOK BACK

Oh, how I dreaded to see the time come just at sun set to hunt the cows, call up the dog and start up the hollow! How far it took, for the old belled cow was way up in the weeds and briars as far as she could get. I can still pant from climbing that steep hill knowing I would have to hunt for two hours maybe before I found them all. When I started from the house to get them, old Pide’s bell could be heard very distinctly but when she heard me coming not a tap of the bell would she make. Finally the dogs would find them all and down the hillside they would come with clouds of dust behind them, for they feared the sharp incisors that would clinch their legs. There was a reason why he never bit their tails; they were always too high in the air. Oh! how I dreaded to get to the gate with those cows for there were those pigs making their way like a terrific storm and we knew if they got out it would be another trip to the pasture field.

But sometimes we climbed up the cow pasture on our way to the Pine Knobb cliffs. There in the valley the house stands where the creek forks like a turkey’s foot. My mother and father are still living in it. Although on the cliffs we were a mile away, all that stirred around our house could be seen. Far, far away in other directions we looked into yet other valleys. At our feet were lovely tree tops where birds hopped from limb to limb and from one tree to another. When the sun hid behind the hills we started homeward. When we reached the big rock we would have to stop to satisfy our hunger from the store of walnuts we had gathered there. I’m sure our cracking stones are still in place. It was those times of fun we had cracking walnuts that made the thought of getting the cows, that never came by themselves, a little softer in my mind.

Anonymous. The Pine Cone 1937 Pine Mountain Settlement School newsletter.

And, that brings us back to Elizabeth C. Hench and her Joy Stock Company Limited Letters 1927-33. (People can ruminate just as can the cow.) The following is the last letter in her series of letters to those who so loyally supported the Ayrshire herd at Pine Mountain for many years. It is a fitting letter as it returns to the emotional contributions of cows to the world. Written near the end of the Great Depression, the letter is edgy with humor and anxiety.

The grand Ayrshire herd at Pine Mountain Settlement would last only a few years after the closure of the boarding school. When the expense and the labor to support the program and the new regulations regarding milk production came into play, the dairy herd became no longer viable. The last of the herd at the School was sold following the departure of the boarding  students.  The cow bells had been silent for many years and even the gentle communions with the cows of our ruminating neighbors became infrequent. Cows in Appalachia have now been replaced by the Dollar Store and mountain pastures now feed deer and elk that roam freely. But, neither deer nor elk will summer-nap with you under the same tree nor will they share their milk, or mellow your mood …

LETTER TO THE MEMBERS OF THE JOY STOCK COMPANY LIMITED 1933

Dear Stock-Holder:
Ordinarily I am as restless as a short-tailed bull in fly-time until I get the autumn cow letter off. But during the summer just past, to those of us in this section of the world, autumn, with its many days or rain, brought no terrors. As we oozed and mopped, we looked in vain to cows for relief. For, do you know, cows are weatherwise? Here are some of the signs:

1 — If a bull goes first to pasture, it will rain.
2 — If cattle lie down at once when they reach pasture, they want a dry bed before rain starts.
3 — If a cow licks a brick wall, rain will fall.
4 — If a cow lies down on her right side, rain will come soon.

But cows went placidly and contentedly on their way. What matter to them if springs went dry and creeks fell? The cow with the iron tail would supply them!

Contentment is so often spoken of as a characteristic of cows, that a quatrain I found does not ring true:

“The Worry Cow would have lived till now
If she had only saved her breath,
But she feared the hay wouldn’t last all day,
So she choked herself to death.”

Nevertheless, if the Joy Stock Company, Limited, and REJOICE, our cow, don’t have checks, we’ll be ready to sing The Tune The Old Cow Died On —

“There was an old man, and he had an old cow,
And he had no fodder to give her,
So he took up his fiddle and played her this tune:
‘Consider, good cow, consider,
This isn’t the time for grass to grow,
Consider, good cow, consider.'”

Those of us who have ridden along the main highways, have been enjoined by huge posters to roll our own, but how can REJOICE roll her cud without food?

If there be (notice the conditional tense) any of us whose incomes have not been slashed, and if there are any of us who can squeeze out a little money, let us send our checks soon.

From one who tries to keep the Milky Way
always visible at Pine Mountain,

[Signed] Elizabeth Hench

P.S. Did you realize that Amelia Earhart Putnam’s landing in Ireland was witnessed only by a herd of frightened cows?

https://pinemountainsettlement.net/?page_id=17147

SEE ALSO:

ELIZABETH C. HENCH Joy Stock Company Limited Letters 1927-33

DANCING IN THE CABBAGE PATCH The Dairy

DANCING IN THE CABBAGE PATCH Farm and Dairy Early Years

DANCING IN THE CABBAGE PATCH Farm and Dairy II Morris Years

ALICE COBB STORIES Howard Burdine Tail of Old Red

Mountains and Lucy Furman’s ‘Sight to the Blind’

Pine Mountain Settlement School
Series: POSTS
Mountains and 
Lucy Furman’s Sight to the Blind

MOUNTAINS 

Lucy Furman’s Sight to the Blind is one of the most memorable early works written by a Settlement worker in the Appalachian Mountains. Her process of adapting to living in the mountains of Appalachia was both an inspiration and an education for women of similar interests – those who wanted to find purpose in their lives while challenging themselves in one of the most remote geographies of the United States at the time.

Lucy Furman arrived in Knott County in the Eastern corner of the Central Appalachians in the first quarter of the twentieth century. Her keen ear for speech and her equally observant sight have left her readers, one of the more honest accounts of life in the remote Appalachian mountains near Hindman, Kentucky. Her graphic depictions of the beauty of the physical landscape begin with the eye and ear of an “outsider” but it is soon clear that the term “outsider” meant little to Furman. The bifurcation of “insider” and “outsider” are often reduced in distinction by what some may broadly call our joined “human condition” – something that Lucy Furman knew all so well.  

In her writing, Lucy Furman weaves a panoramic picture of early rural mountain living with the briefest of narratives. In her novel, her literary eyes and ears are sharply focused on the life of one mountain woman, whose name is Aunt Dalmanuthy. It is Aunt Dalmanuthy’s “Resurrection” following cataract surgery on her eyes that gives the book its title. The novel is slim and brief in details, but broadly panoramic as seen through this story of “vision.” It is so much more than just another Appalachian hard-luck novel. It is an ode to mountains written in the early dialect of the region but rendered with reverence and remarkable accuracy.

First recorded in the Century Magzine in 1912 and then published in book form by Macmillan Co., the book immediately had a wide audience. The 1914  publication’s popularity was enhanced by the introduction written by the journalist Ida Tarbell, a well-known journalist of the day. Tarbell prepares the reader for the journey Lucy Furman has chosen to share. She maps out the terrain ahead by broadly outlining the remote social setting and appealing to women’s instinct for new adventure in the locked-down world of the early twentieth century.

The stature of Tarbell no doubt boosted the sales of Furman’s book,  but Furman’s small book, Sight to the Blind is for the author, Furman, a classic in Appalachian literature. Her small book was written just as Katherine Pettit, the founder of Pine Mountain Settlement School, and her colleagues from Hindman were working to establish a new mountain school in Harlan County, Kentucky. Furman knew Pettit and, like many who had met her through her role in the earlier founding of the Hindman Settlement (W.C.T.U School), Furman was intrigued by such bravery and applied to work with the early School at Hindman.

Lucy Furman, became a long-time employee of Hindman Settlement and a lifetime friend of Katherine Pettit and  Pine Mountain Settlement School. Settling in at Hindman, Furman soon became well-known for her intimate literary portraits of eastern Kentucky and particularly of her life at Hindman, the first rural settlement school in Kentucky.  First called the W.C.T.U Settlement, Hindman was established by Pettit and her wealthy Louisville colleague, May Stone, who shared many of the same founding principles as Pettit. The W.C.T.U name, or Women’s Christian Temperance Union, paid homage to the school’s primary benefactor. In Furman’s book Sight to the Blind, she captures the essence of the “temperance” mission and gives it an exclamation mark! Her W.C.T.U. admiration was, however, not shared by Pettit, who kept some distance from the tenants of the anti-alcohol manifesto of the W.C.T.U. organization. 

But, like Pettit,  Furman had a keen ear for the local mountain dialect and culture, and she also had a keen nose. She could tell when liquor was in close company and took some pride in ferreting it out. In Sight to the Blind, Furman uses all her senses in the novel to bring the reader as close as possible to time and place and people in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky. Those who have grown up in the area, as this author has, will quickly sense the reality, the language,  and the delight of that early time in the mountains that Furman recalls in her book.  Many still living near the waters of Troublesome Creek, or whose ancestors lived nearby, will, no doubt share Furman’s delight and the author’s despair in the habits of the rural community – habits that are a deep silo of literary fodder. The geography and the life of the area agreed fully with Furman and she remained for her lifetime.

THE STORY

In Sight to the Blind, Furman tells the story of a woman whose sight is impaired by cataracts and who rails about her dark world to anyone who will listen.  Her plaintive and sometimes raging invectives as the book opens are familiar territory to many who have had similar “quarrelsome” relatives or who welcome a venue to gripe about current status. Aunt Dalmanutha is especially quarrelsome and easily animated by the local preachers as well as the “do-gooders” from the settlement school (Hindman). With the preachers, Dalmanutha is especially cantankerous.  Who are they to think that her vision will clear if only she will open her eyes to God as the local preachers admonish. She takes issue with the criticism of compatriots for her ‘ornery life” which they blame on her impaired reception of their Christian way of life. Dalmanuthy is not one to go gently anywhere.

In relating the story of Aunt Dalmanutha and her family, the author reveals many of the classic struggles with faith found in the course of Appalachian mountain living in the first quarter of the twentieth century.   Furman graphically challenges some of the basic tenets of mountain preaching with what she experienced in her early urban Settlement Movement life. The local preachers, if any ever read her books, most likely saw her as “ornery” as Dalmanutha. The challenges described by Furman are the familiar challenges that ring throughout early rural settlement school literature and that today resonate so strongly with many women’s issues worldwide. It is this obstinacy of Furman that attracted the author and most likely inspired suffragist Ida Tarbell to laud the all-too-familiar worldwide women’s story, then currently playing out in the mountains of eastern Kentucky.

Ida Tarbell says in the opening lines of her Introduction to Furman’s  authorship of two novels

A more illuminating interpretation of the settlement idea than Miss Furman’s stories “Sight to the Blind” and “Mothering on Perilous” does not exist. Spreading what one has learned of cheerful, courageous, lawful living among those that need it has always been recognized as part of a man’s work in the world. It is an obligation which has generally been discharged with more zeal than humanity. To convert at the point of a sword is a hateful business. To convert by promises of rewards, present or future, is hardly less hateful. And yet, much of the altruistic work of the world has been done by one or a union of these methods. 

Harriet Butler, to whom Furman dedicated her book,  was one of the most beloved nurses at Hindman in its first years. She was later recruited to Pine Mountain Settlement to work with Pettit in her founding years in Harlan County.  Harriet helped to found the Big Laurel Medical Clinic, a satellite of Pettit’s newly founded Pine Mountain Settlement School in Harlan County. In Furman’s story of Aunt Dalmanutha, Harriet Butler is clearly the nurse, re-named “Miss Shippen” in her book.

Furman’s precocious book captures the sentiments of local families for their mountain preachers, but through Dalmanutha and in Miss Shippen, Furman strongly questions the ” … cock-sure pride in the superiority of his religion and his cultivation,” seemingly taking a jab at the male preachers who often dominated life in the eastern mountains.

Back to the book, Dalmanuthy, urged by nurse Shippen to seek medical assistance in removing cataracts from her eyes, Dalmanuthy, is finally persuaded by Miss Shippen to pursue medical treatment for her eyes. She travels by train to a Bluegrass medical clinic, and there, the necessary treatment is successful. After many weeks in recovery at the home of her doctor, where she not only has her sight restored but is also given a new set of teeth and, more importantly, a “resurrection” in spirit, Dalmanuthy emerges a “whole” woman.

The story is a short one, but so very powerful in its literary comparison of the struggle of women to cope with Appalachian rural mountain life. The narrative places Dalmanutha as a strk contrast to the affluent life of women in the Bluegrass region.  On her return to the mountains, eyes wide open, she is Sight to the Blind personified. The dialect of Dalmanuthy, a woman who was severely impaired and poorly served by her environment due to the limited resources, is reborn powerful, eyes and soul now wide open to the world.  The physical limitations of her medical condition are removed, and with the new sight, she then recovers her self-reliance. She falls back into the well-known strong mountain reliance that some mountain women find, and some do not. But, is it enough for Dalmanutha?

The treatment to restore her sight was successful. But she is also reborn. As she travels back to her home in the mountains with her sight restored, she is quoted in the mountain dialect by Furman in what can only be called an Appalachian epiphany

‘But it were not till I sot in the railroad cyars ag’in, and the level country had crinkled up into hills, and the hills had riz up into mountains, all a-blazin’ out majestical in the joy of yaller and scarlet and green and crimson, that I raley got my sight and knowed I had it. Yes, the Blue Grass is fine and pretty and smooth and heavenly fair; but the mountains is my nateral and everlastin’ element. They gethered round me at my birth; they bowd down their proud heads to listen at my first weak cry; they cradled me on their broad knees; they suckled me at their hard but ginerous breasts. Whether snow-kivered, or brown, or green, or many colored, they never failed to speak great, silent words to me whensoever I lifted up my eyes to ’em; they still holds in their friendly embrace all that is dear to me, living or dead; and, women, if I don’t see ’em [the mountains] in heaven, I’ll be loesome and homesick thar.”

Furman, Lucy. Sight to the Blind, New York: McMillan Company 1914. With an introduction by Ida Tarbell.

Ida Tarbell speaks to this transformative event in her Introduction to the book

“A more illuminating interpretation of the settlement idea than Miss Furman’s stories ‘Sight to the Blind,’ and ‘Mothering on Perilous’ does not exist. … That to which we have converted men has not always been more satisfactory than our way of going at it.” 

Our way of going at it” was, in Tarbell’s eye, better seen through the vision of women and not the men who handed down principles, good tidings, and doctrine, but governed by dire consequences from their pulpit and desk. Tarbell, Furman, Pettit, Harriet Butler, and many more women advocated for women to “settle among those who need them.” This was the ethos of the Mountain Settlement Movement that Furman and Tarbell felt at the beginning of the twentieth century and clearly nurtured in women who lived in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky, there to mix and mingle with an ethos so often found in women living in other mountainous regions throughout the world.

THE MOUNTAINS

In Eastern Kentucky, it is impossible to ignore the mountains. They are both majestic and terrifying. They are sheltering and limiting walls of comfort. They are defined as dwelling places. They face one on getting up and one on going to bed. In Appalachia’s hollows, if the back is turned on one, another is in the face. It is not hard to imagine the dwellers of mountains all nodding their heads in agreement, smiling, or feeling a great lump rise in the throat when thinking about their/our mountains. But mountains defy ownership or specific worship. Go to the top of any mountain in the Central Appalachians, and mountains roll out like an ocean, broken only now by the yellow rock pushing its flat islands of recent surface mining along the horizon.

Mountains are jointly owned. Mountain dwellers hold as tightly to those mountains they can see as well as those they live near or below.  Sometimes even those that they cannot see, they know they are there. Those who live “in” the mountains are truly enfolded by the arms, the hollows, of mountains in Eastern Kentucky.

Distant view of 3 men tilling field; mountains & barn.[nace_II_album_085.jpg]

The students who attended Pine Mountain Settlement School and, later, even those students who came to visit in the environmental education programs, carried their own interpretations of “their” adopted mountains. In the early 1940s, a small poem written by a boarding student at Pine Mountain Settlement School described very specifically the mountains she preferred. The poem captures the disjoin of living in a town in the mountains and living “in” the mountains. The writer, Pine Mountain Settlement School student, Mildred Centers, captures the sense of mountain ownership.

I’m getting tired of this place. I don’t like being all crowded together.

I like the good hills. You know — where there is plenty of room for everyone and some to spare.

All I’ve seen are boulevards, streets, avenues, and building. All I’ve heard is the whirr of the motor and the rumble of machinery. And the people — crowded highways, jammed buses, workers packed in the street cars. the shrill voices of men, women, and children while going about daily tasks wear on me.

I like the hills. You know — the quietness, with only the chirp of the birds, the sigh of the breeze, the trickle of the brooks, the rush of the mountain stream. Best of all the quiet moonlit fields where paths lead from valley to valley.

I’d like to take a run up a long steep slope of some hill, find myself a seat on a stone, and whistle some good old mountain tune.

Mildred Centers. Pine Cone 1944  January.

Jack’s Gap, is a favorite place to run up to. [pine tree and one figure on rock] mccullough_II_069c

The Geology of Mountains and “Dowbles”

“Pine Mountain is a long and unique ridge in the Central Appalachian Mountains that run through the Eastern section of  Kentucky. It extends about 125 miles from near Jellico, Tennessee, to a location near Elkhorn City, Kentucky. Birch Knob, the highest point, is 3,273 feet above sea level and is located on the Kentucky-Virginia border.” (Wikipedia) Pine Mountain Settlement School is positioned near the Eastern terminus of the long-tilted mountain chain.”

The geology of the long Pine Mountain inspired writers, whether as part of the local mythology or within the carefully delineated and many scientific tracts that have been written about the creation and evolution of its singular geology. Mr. Napier entertains us with his Observations on Pine Mountain when he describes the mountain as “…one of nature’s mysteries to be thought over.” He described to Katherine Pettit his view of the creation of the mountain as the remnant of a large river that originated somewhere near Long Island and was gouged out by the force of the water. He describes the Dowbles that one can experience when the ridgeline is walked. Some “Dowbles have retained the water and are treacherous swamps on either side of the mountain. He continues

You still see the signs of great river been flowed north east. You will find swamps, even marshes with more or less water followin’ the old river bed in different places the marshes are so bad that cattle gets in there and dies in the mire if they are not found and helped out. And decayed shells to show they has been a large water course the width of the clifts on each side of the Dowbles shows it has been the banks of the great river. By examinen the rocks on Both Sides of the old river bed it is plain to be seen that river flowed north east. If you notice you will get all kind of water flowin’ out of that mountain and you get the best proof of this by the lime stone in the Pine Mountain. The same lime stone you find several hundred feet below. Elsewhere the upheaval has raised the limestone ledge on Pine Mountain from a level of the lime stone bed found in northern Ky. around Lexington and Winchester.

To read more about Mr. Napier’s observations of mountains and their “upheavals”, visit the following page. Geologists beware …  but there is no doubt that Pine Mountain is “… a mysterious mountain that needs to be thought through.”.

Mr. Napier, Observations on Pine Mountain, 1 page
Come for a visit.

Pine Mountain is a long, narrow ridge starting in northern Tennessee and extending northeastward into southeastern Kentucky and southwestern Virginia. Its southwestern terminus is near Pioneer, Tennessee, and it extends approximately 122 miles (196 km) to the northeast to near the Breaks Interstate Park in Kentucky and Virginia.