The Legend of the Pink Feather

When I was a small lass, my cousin Betty wrote a story for me and her daughter, Ashlee. As I recall, it was the first day of school and Ashlee was nervous and scared and I never liked going to school when summer was over, so we were both having a hard time accepting the new school year. In order to calm our anxiety, Betty wrote a story for us. Ashlee brought it on the school bus, along with a single pink feather. Now, I may be mistaken on this part, there may have been two pink feathers and at some point in the day, one of us lost our pink feather and that left just the one to fuss over. Regardless, there ended up being only one pink feather. One pink feather to be shared between two small girls. It was trouble waiting to happen. Especially after we read the story (or rather, I read it to Ashlee, since she was too little to read) and decided that of course it was a true story! Anyway, we fought over that feather like you wouldn't believe. We held grudges for years against each other because each one of us believed that pink feather belonged to us. We still got a long just fine, but at different points through the  years, if you mentioned a pink feather (ANY pink feather) there was a "knowing look" that passed between us. No malice mind you, we don't hold grudges that long with each other, but we did know what a pink feather meant.

When Ashlee was pregnant with my Goddaughter, Bella, some of us got together and had her a Birth Blessing. As part of the blessing festivities we made a keepsake box for Bella. The idea is to put something personal in the box for the baby-to-be and as the baby grows into an adult, you (or he or she) will add items to the box. I added two pink feathers. Sure Bella was only one baby, but instead of one feather, there were two. If I had of had the paper that Betty wrote the story on, I would have added that too. Through the years Ashlee, Betty, and I have all forgotten the story of The Legend of the Pink Feather. I thought I had lost the paper with the story written on it. The legend would be gone forever and in its place was our own legend (one acted out by Ashlee and me throughout the years) about two little girls on bus 104 fighting over a single pink feather.

The other day, while going through some things from my old room in my parents' house, I found a folded and tattered piece of paper. Written in blue ink across the top of the page were the words "Read to Ashlee too". It was Betty's handwriting. I knew instantly the treasure I had just found. So without further ado, I present to you "The Legend of the Pink Feather" as written by my cousin Betty way back in the late 1980s.

"April,
Have you ever heard the legend of the pink feather? It goes like this. A long time ago before the white man came to America, there was a most beautiful Indian princess. Her name was Moon Dove. She was loved and cherished by all her people. She had the kindest and purest heart of all.

One day a young Indian brave fell deeply in love with Moon Dove. In order to prove his love was true, he went in search of a special gift for Moon Dove. After many months of searching high and low, he saw the gift he wanted to give her. It was two pink feathers lying high on a rocky cliff.

He climbed the dangerous cliff and started to pick up the feathers when the wind blew them over the edge. He grabbed for them and tumbled off the cliff. Sure and certain death awaited the young brave if he hit bottom. But suddenly the two feathers each fell into his outstretched hands. As if by magic he was lifted back up to the rock safe and sound.

He quickly returned to the village and gave the feathers to Moon Dove. He told all the people what had happened. They named the feathers "Lucky Feather". Moon Dove and the brave were married and she always wore the pink feathers in her hair. Her and her family were always lucky. Their lives were always filled with joy and happiness.

Even though these feathers probably aren't the original ones, maybe they will bring you girls luck and happiness. Here is one for you and Ashlee.

Good luck.
Love,
Betty"

Miss Independent

I ran away from home this week. Or at least that is what I'm calling at. At soon-to-be thirty, I'm not sure you can actually "run away" from home. What you can do though, is leave without telling anyone. Just wake up on a Thursday morning, make a hotel reservation in a different state, and head out on your own. Leave a note on a the front door that says, "I'll call you when I get there." That's precisely what I did.

I've traveled around the U.S. for the past few years. I took my first big trip in 2007 and since then, I've traveled from the Pacific to the Atlantic and from the Great Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico. I've done most of the driving too; through nerve-wracking Los Angeles freeway traffic to dirt roads in the middle of nowhere. But in all my traveling, I've never gone anywhere by myself. So, I decided that before I leave my twenties behind, I was going to take a road trip all by my lonesome. To do this, I knew I would have to sneak off because my parents, my family, and my friends, would be worried that I had lost my mind if I told them ahead of time and would probably try to talk me out of the trip. So I just left a note on the front door of my house and I headed out.

I decided to go to Franklin, Tennessee (http://www.visitwilliamson.com/). I've been to Nashville a few times so I know the way pretty well. The roads are nice and straight and flat for the most part and its only about four and a half hours from home. So its not that bad of a drive.

Franklin is about twenty miles south of Nashville. Its about the size of Richmond, Kentucky but it has a quaint little historic downtown district that reminded me of a larger Berea, KY. It was lovely.

Why did I choose Franklin? Well, located near Franklin is a dog rescue group called Snooty Giggles (snootygiggles.com). They need volunteers: foster homes, adoptions, donations, etc. Since I live too far away to do much volunteering and since I recently took the class at the Carnegie Center (www.carnegiecenterlex.org) over grant writing, I volunteered to write some grants for Snooty Giggles. My goal was to go to Franklin and personally introduce myself, since I had only had contact via email. That plan fell through, but I did enjoy my visit to the lovely town of Franklin, Tennessee.

Since I'm in the habit of giving reviews of the places I visit and telling stories of my traveling adventures, then I'll start in on that...

Thursday, May 17th:
I ran away from home. Pit stops in London, KY (for groceries for the trip and gas for the car) and Bowling Green, KY (potty break), and I made it to Franklin, TN around 7:30 p.m. (central time). Nashville traffic gives me a headache, but this trip wasn't so bad, except for road work on the way back home, but I'll get to that in a minute. I checked into my room at the Ramada Inn and settled down for the night. As I pulled into the driveway I was a little confused at what looked to be an old cemetery in the front yard of the hotel, but cemeteries don't typically bother me, so I brushed it off, settled in, and went to sleep after scheduling a few tours for the next day.

Friday, May 18th:
Seven a.m. comes early when you are on vacation but I had to be up and ready to pick up my tickets by nine. Downtown Franklin isn't far from the Ramada Inn. In fact, its about a ten minute drive, depending on traffic. Parking is super easy in the down town district, which was really surprising to me. There are two parking garages and all parking along the roadside is FREE! Actually the parking garages are FREE too. Do y'all know how hard it is to find FREE parking anywhere, but especially in a down town historic district?!

Historic Franklin is beautiful. The center of the town is a circle with a large statue reaching into the sky to commemorate the Confederate soldiers that died during the Battle of Franklin (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Franklin_%281864%29). Everything is neat and has nifty historical markers to tell the history of particular sites and homes. I was told by one of my tour guides that Franklin is the 15th wealthiest city in the U.S., that being said, some of the shopping can be a bit pricey. I avoided most of the little shops but I did do a little window shopping. All the places, whether they be restaurants, boutiques, ice cream parlors, or art galleries are independently owned and operated. So its strictly "mom and pop" types of places, which is nice.

You can walk through the city on your own and read historical markers and whatnot or you can take a tour. I opted for the Historic Franklin (http://franklinonfoot.com/) tour by Franklin on Foot (but they have other tours: biking, ghost, etc.). As part of my tour package, I also bought tickets to the Lotz House, the Carter House, and Carnton Plantation. It was a deal. Rather than paying for them independently, which would be be anywhere from $10 to $20 each, I got those three tours and the Historic Tour for only $40. Big savings really. And the tickets for the three houses never expire, so if you are like me and didn't get to do one of them (I'll be back Carnton Plantation), then you can always come back later.

My first stop was the Lotz House (http://www.lotzhouse.com/). I'll post some links so that you can read all the history and whatnot. I don't want to make this a history lesson. My tour guide was named Elaine and she was excellent. Friendly and informative. She knew her stuff and was super charming in a sweet Southern lady sort of way. Just what you would want and expect from Tennessee. The house was beautiful. They had some of the original furniture that the original owner had built himself and had in the house during and after the war. I do suggest making this a stop if you decide to go to Franklin.

The tours kind of go in an order, not that you HAVE TO follow that order, but it does help with the story. Next was the Carter House (http://battleoffranklintrust.org/). I loved learning about the history of the Carter House. I won't ruin it for anyone here, but if you love history and the Civil War in particular, then you should definitely give this tour a try. We had a very knowledgeable tour guide, but he was kind of a dick all the same. Or at least that was my impression. But maybe you won't get him, there were plenty of other guides. There is also a welcome center area where you can shop at the gift shop (the Lotz House had a small gift shop too), get some snacks, view a small museum, and purchase further tickets. Plus its air conditioned. Considering I was there when it was a humid 90 degrees, that can be a life saver. There is also an assortment of original out buildings for you to explore at your leisure.

I liked the Carter House tour best of all, even if I didn't like my guide. And now I want to read more books on the history of the house and the town.

I didn't have time for the Carnton Plantation tour before my Historic Franklin tour started, so I hopped back in my car (the Lotz House and Carter House should both be driven too from downtown Franklin, its too far to walk, but there is plenty of parking, so no worries there), drove back to my parking garage and headed to Gallery 202 where I was supposed to meet my guide.

Gallery 202 (http://www.gallery202art.com/) was beautiful. Its part of the walking tour because it was also used during the war. The art was amazing. A fairly good sized collection of local artists and famous ones, all for purchase. There were pianos that had been painted with beautiful scenes and portraits. There were large and small paintings, sculptures, jewelry, even clothes. If it was artsy in any way, Gallery 202 had it. It was also very expensive for the most part. The most expensive thing I saw was an Andy Warhol painting for $39,000! The cheapest thing I found was $26 but it wasn't really an art piece. It was cute, but it was a mass produced item that you can buy pretty much anywhere. But that was the only mass produced item I saw. I was tempted though. I usually get tons of souvenirs on my trips, but this time, the only thing I brought back was my Carnton Plantation ticket and pictures.

At any rate, we started on our tour through the town, stopping at the first church established by an African American in the town after the Civil War. It is now a  community theatre. There was the Masonic Lodge that opens up it's doors once a year to the public so people can stand in line to see the "graffiti" on the wall in the men's bathroom. This graffiti was discovered while making repairs a few years back and is actually the name of the Union regiments that had occupied Franklin...as in, authentic-written-during-that-time-graffiti. We walked through the town square and learned the history of the Confederate monument. We concluded the tour at another church, this one a beautiful Episcopalian number with lovely stained glass windows. All in all, an excellent tour and I recommend it to anyone that goes to the area.

After the tour I found a place to eat, since I hadn't eaten anything since seven that morning and that was just two Poptarts! I chose a little Cajun place (http://www.papaboudreaux.com/menu.html) and ordered one of my favorite meals: crawfish etouffee. It was delicious! By far the best that I've had, and that's saying a lot since I LOVE to eat this stuff when I'm in Louisiana.

After a hard day of touring and getting my gut full of crawfish and sweet tea, I decided to go back to the hotel to freshen up before heading to Leiper's Fork (http://www.visitleipersfork.com/). After a quick nap though I realized my aching feet and legs couldn't take anymore, plus it was starting to rain, so I decided to call it a night.

Saturday, May 19th:
I headed home on Saturday, I was supposed to go to the Carnton Planation (http://www.carnton.org/carnton_history.htm) before coming home, but I was afraid I would miss Bella's first recital, so I opted just to leave early and head back to Kentucky. They were working on the interstate in Nashville and of course, Gale (my gps) goes crazy and can't figure out how to get me where I'm going, so I had to figure it out myself. I did pretty good for a girl with a crazy GPS and no map. The rest of the trip home was fairly uneventful. I had to stop in Glasgow, KY for some food and there I met three stray cats that I'm sure would have liked to come home with me, but alas, I have no more room for cats in my house. That's just how it goes.

All in all, this trip was great! Just what I needed. Time to myself, a new adventure, and a dip a little bit deeper into the South. I love traveling through the southern states most of all. If you are in the Nashville area, I suggest you make a quick trip on down to Franklin and explore a little history and eat some good crawfish while you're there.

2012

As 2011 comes to a close, I thought I might make a list a resolutions. I never make resolutions because I figure no one ever keeps them anyway, but I thought I would give it a shot for 2012. So here goes...

In 2012 I am...

~ Going to lose weight and get healthier. I don't have a particular size or weight in mind, just smaller than I currently am. I want to feel good and feel good about myself.

~ Going to work my arse off and keep my GPA up or even better, raise it. Not that  I don't work my arse off anyway (as my lack of a social life demonstrates), but there's nothing wrong with trying to improve.

~ Going to try harder to have some sort of social life. My life is consumed by work and school and it would be nice to be able to visit with people and spend time with my friends.

~ Going to get more sleep...hopefully. Grad school interferes with sleep most of the time.

~ Going to save some money and/or pay off some debts. Its really all the same thing to me.

~ Going to train so that I can be ready for the Zombie Apocalypse that is sure to hit on December 21. (I have my fingers crossed.)

Happy New Year folks!

Bedtime Story

So this is the last of my Halloween inspired spook stories and this one is completely made up...although I'm pretty sure I believed it when I was a kid. I used to beg my Mom to tell it to me each night before bed because apparently I loved having nightmares. This story should also help explain my childhood fears of monsters under the bed, in the closet, in the basement, and the toilet. ;-) Enjoy and hope ya'll have a very Happy Halloween!!!

There once was a little boy that lived in a big house with his Mom. The house had a huge, dark, spooky basement and the little boy was always very, very afraid to go into the basement. He would cry and throw a fit and when his Mom asked him why he was so afraid, he would tell her, "The boogeyman lives in the basement and if I go down there, he will get me."

Finally at her wits end she took the little boy to a child psychologist. After talking to him about his silly fear of the basement, the psychologist told the Mother, "The thing for you to do is force him to face his fear. When you get home, lock him in the basement. No matter what he says, do not let him out until he's calmed down. Once you have shown him that there is no boogeyman, then his fear will be over and your life can go back to normal."

That evening when they got home, the Mother did as the psychologist told her and promptly locked her young son in the basement. As she stood on the other side of the locked door she could hear him crying, screaming, and begging her to let him out. "Please Mommy! Please, let me out! The boogeyman is here and he's going to get me!," he'd yell from his place at the bottom of the steps. But she remembered what the psychologist told her and she was determined to help her son face his fears.

After a little while her son became silent and she decided it was time to let him out of the basement. When she opened the door she couldn't see him at the bottom of the stairs. So she walked down to have a look around, thinking that maybe he was hiding somewhere. What she found at the bottom of the stairs sent chills through her. Where her son had been standing was a pool of blood.

She never saw her son again. The boogeyman had gotten him.

The End. :-)

The Old House - Tonight's Story

Tomorrow I plan on telling a tall tale that I used to beg my Mother to tell me every night before bed (because I'm weird that way...even when I was a child). Its completely NOT TRUE, but in order to keep with the spirit of things, I wanted to share one more true story with ya'll. This one involves the old white farm house that I used to live in.

At least I think it was our farm house...I grew up thinking it was a different old house in McKee, but as I got older I was told it was indeed our old house. Regardless of where it took place, it still happened to the people involved, so I thought I would share it.

Personally, I think that land sometimes holds memories. Not just our memories but the memories of those that have gone on before us. Both good and bad memories and both good and bad people. This could possibly explain why a brand new home could be haunted. I mean, the house is freshly built, so there would be no past tenants to worry about. The question would be, who lived on the land before the new house. So, I think its important to understand a little bit about my home before we continue.

As family legend would have it here's the basics about where I live. The land used to belong to Preston Adkins (hence the name of Adkinstown for the entire road in Gray Hawk). He got it due to his service in the Union Army during the Civil War. Pres was my Mamaw Mae's Grandfather (my Great-Great Grandpa in other words). Things being as they are, Pres eventually lost the majority of Adkinstown due to a variety of things. Now people who aren't part of the Adkins family tree inhabit Adkinstown. Pres is buried in a cemetery at the top of the hill from my house, where most of my other past family members are buried and where I intend to be laid to rest one day.

Below my house are some caves. These caves have been fashioned into homes. Homes that we have all always assumed were done so by some Native tribe many, many years ago. Probably even before Pres got the land. My Aunt's now ex-husband used to go there and dig up lots and lots of arrowheads.

From the top of the hill (where the cemetery is located) on down to the end of the road are Nunns. Its been that way for over fifty years. The only neighbor that isn't a Nunn lives below the hill at the very end of the road. He's the son of a distant cousin. From the top of the hill on, isn't primarily relatives but we do have relatives up there. Relatives from the Adkins side. So basically, its a family road. Just to kind of give you an idea.

Anywho...from the top of the hill down was owned by my Grandparents, Bob and Mae, for many years. My Mamaw's people lived in Perry County where her Daddy was a coal miner before they loaded up and moved to Preston's land in Jackson County. I'm not sure if Pres gave the land to her Daddy or if they bought it, but when Mamaw and Papaw decided to settle on the farm, they bought it from Mamaw's Daddy (I can't think of his name at the moment - this makes me terribly ashamed because I used to keep up with all this family stuff). Mamaw and Papaw deeded off the farm to their children before they passed. Throughout the years, some of the children have sold their holdings to folks outside of the family, but from the top of the hill down, it has primarily stayed within the family tree. The land holdings now belong to an Aunt, two Uncles, two cousins, my Dad, and myself.

At any rate, I just wanted to point out that the land, for well over a hundred years have belonged to my family in one fashion or another. Prior to that, I'm assuming it was wild country where the "Indians" lived or at least passed through on a regular basis. So the entities (for lack of a better word) that "haunt" the area must in some way have a close tie to the land. I'm assuming its past family members for the most part and that's why I don't really worry too much about the strange things that seem to happen in the area.

Now...on to tonight's story.

When my Aunt Ida was a young girl she had a sleepover with some of my cousins (cousins that were her nieces, but were close in age to her...because when you come from a family of eleven children, at some point the generational lines are going to blur). They were all nestled into one bed for the night and trying to go to sleep but it was storming outside and they were a bit spooked. It didn't help matters any when the lights went out in the house. To further complicate things, while the lights were off they felt the end of the bed sag as if someone had set down on it. They never heard or saw anyone entered the room prior to that and they would have noticed with the door being shut and all, so they had no idea who might have decided to share the bed with them.

Raised up in bed, they all looked towards the foot of the bed at their visitor trying to make out features in the darkness. About that time lightening struck outside the window, illuminating the room. In the split second of light they saw a woman sitting on the end of the bed. As Ida explained it, "She had wild looking hair that was just sticking up all over her face. She was really old and scary looking and she was laughing at us." When the light faded, so did the woman. The girls were too terrified to get out of bed, so they all covered up under the blankets and screamed until someone could come to the rescue. They never saw the woman again.

Red Eyes - Tonight's Stories

Now that we are back in Jackson County for our tales, I'll share a couple that don't take place at my house or even on my road. These take place in the Annville area.

When my Mom was about five or six, her Aunt Doris lived in a house out in Annville. Luckily, its not the house she currently lives in. This one was a lot smaller and it was blue. Mom used to go over there and spend the night with her cousins because her Mom would go stay at Doris' when her husband was out on the road for his trucking job. Mom slept in the room with her cousins, Linda and Ruth, and they would both make her sleep on the outside edge of the bed.

One night she awoke to the sound of scratching under the bed. Being a brave little gal like she was, she decided to see what was making the noise, so she flipped her head over the edge of the bed and looked into the darkness. Looking back at her was two large glowing red eyes. It terrified her. She jumped up into the middle of the bed and started to scream at the top of her lungs, waking everyone in the house. She was so scared, in fact, that the only way her Mom could get her to calm down and stop was to slap her across the cheek. She refused to sleep in that room the rest of the time that Doris and her kids lived there.

Even though she didn't sleep in the room anymore, she still liked to play in there. One day she was sitting by the toy box in the room and happened to glance over beside her. The toys in the box began to move and a hand, came out of the middle of the box. Obviously she was horrified again and ran away screaming. No one was hiding in the box and they took all the toys out to show her it was fine. But if you ask her, to this day, she will tell you that she loved staying with her family, but she hated that house with everything in her.

I've never been inside the house, but Mom has driven me by it several times. Someone lives there right now and I've often wondered if they have had any chilling experiences like my Mom's.

Today's Spook Stories

Now that we've been to Ohio, lets go back down South and back to Kentucky.

While I was writing stories about my house I realized I had forgotten a few. So I thought I would share a couple more about the haints that populate my little stretch of the county.

Lest you think its only the over-active imaginations of my Mother and me that witnesses these spectral occurrences, let me tell you a little story about my Mamaw Mae.

The Disappearing Strangers:

When I was a little girl my Mamaw used to babysit me while my parents were at work. I suppose I was five or six at the time but I remember the day clearly. I was in the living room of her trailer watching cartoons and playing with my dolls when she came in and said, "April, come out here and tell me who these men are." When I got to the porch I didn't see anyone but my Dad. He was sitting in his truck and about to pull out down the road. I told Mamaw this. She said, "But who are the men with him? Don't you see them?" No. I didn't.

Later that evening when Mom and Dad came in, Mamaw told them about it. Apparently she had been out on the porch when Daddy came in for his lunch. She said when he got out of his truck, two men got out with him. One went in the house with him and the other went around the corner of the house and out of site. Mamaw asked Dad about it, but he said he didn't have anyone with him when he came in for lunch.

In her later years my Mamaw suffered from Alzheimer's, but at this point, she was as healthy and competent as anyone else. So she wasn't having some dementia induced hallucination, yet she still stood by seeing those men with my Dad that day.

Other Places:

My house isn't the only home with its fair share of things that go bump in the night. Out the road from my house is where my Uncle lives and where his children were raised.

One Summer we had a pool out in the front yard of this house and my Mom and my Uncle's then-wife were outside cleaning it out while I played inside with my cousin Bridgette. Mom told me she would yell at me when it was time to go, so when Bridgette and I heard my name being called, we figured it was time for me to leave. I packed up my toys and ran outside only to discover that Mom and Kay were still cleaning the pool. No one had yelled at me, yet me and Bridge both heard it. I refused to go back inside the house until Bridgette came to the door to get me.

Not long after that day was the infamous day that Bridgette saw the girl in the mirror. While she was getting ready for school one morning she decided to check her hair and makeup one last time before getting on the bus and when she stepped back into the bathroom, instead of seeing her own reflection in the mirror, she saw the face of some other girl. It scared her pretty badly as I recall.

That wasn't the first time the girl had been seen however. Once when I was a toddler my parents stopped out at my Uncle's house one night to deliver some now forgotten message. When they pulled up and beeped, they seen a girl (they thought it was Bridgette) come to the window and look out, before disappearing behind the curtain. Thinking that Bridgette must have just been scared and didn't recognize the car, Dad got out and knocked on the door. No one ever answered. The next day he told my Uncle about and apologized if he had scared Bridgette or anything. Douglas told him, "Well, I don't know who you seen, but it wasn't Bridgette. We were all gone last night. No one was here when you stopped by."