SILVER THREADS

 

Written and Published Online by John Silver

w/contributing articles by various Silver cousins

 

Greetings to our Silver kin and to all our loyal readers,

Fall is upon us and comes with a mixed blessing.  The leaves are fantastically beautiful, the weather cool and the inevitable raking and burning of same.  But, I suppose the exercise will be beneficial to most of us. At least it will be for me!

This month we have a special treat.  Arlyce Lea Lewis, wife of Billy Lewis, has written about growing up on a farm in South Dakota.  It may well be a reminder of how some of us were brought up in the depression years.  “Arley’s” description of farm life brought back vivid memories and I hope it will do the same for those of you who experienced farm life as a child. 

Arley and Billy, great-grandson of Colonel Samuel Silver, now reside in Vancouver, Washington.  They are retired now but that has not slowed down their traveling.  Thank you Arley, for this great article.

Happy Thanksgiving!
John

 

 

Grandma’s Kitchen

 

 

Grandma, Laura Blair Huetson, spent her whole life on farms with no running water.  Although born in Ohio, she was raised on a farm east of Vermillion, South Dakota.  That farm was in the Blair name for over 100 years.  When she and Claude were married in 1900 they began farming on their own.

As the only child of a single, working mother, I spent a lot of time at my grandparents’ farm. It was one mile east of the hospital on a gravel road and I walked it until I got a bicycle to ride.  During the school year I usually stayed with them Saturday nights and went with them to Church on Sunday, then would go home.  However, during the summer I practically lived with them.

Grandma and Grandpa finally got electricity on their farm in 1943 when REA brought it in.  They did have a phone on the wall before then and it was on the same line as everyone else on their road, all the way to Fairview School.  Their number was 4F20 (Farm line 4, 2 longs and no shorts).  You knew everyone else’s ring and occasionally would listen in.

In the center of the kitchen was a huge square oak table with eight chairs around it. It seemed there was someone dropping in and would be served coffee and some kind of dessert.  There was an oilcloth “tablecloth” on it for easy cleaning and it always contained salt, pepper, sugar and a cream pitcher with cream so thick you had to turn it upside down and spoon it out.  In the summer there were always beautiful flowers on the table and elsewhere in the house.  Grandma especially loved gladiolas. Just outside the kitchen door was a Venus Fly Trap and as grandchildren ran in and out of the kitchen, they would have to touch it to make it close.  How she had time to raise so many beautiful flowers is a puzzle.  Occasionally, wearing an apron filled with flowers, Grandma would take a bucket of water and go to the cemetery.  Her father and both of Claude’s parents were buried in Pine Bluff Cemetery, about a mile from the house.  During the summer, their graves always had flowers.

Grandma’s mother, Sally Thompson Blair, lived with them.  She was a tiny little thing and spent most days in a small rocker sitting under her kerosene lamp set on a swiveling holder doing “handwork.”  Sally’s family had come from Northern Ireland to Ohio where Sally was born.  She met and married Thomas Blair, also from Northern Ireland who came to Ohio.  They had five children and bought the Blair farm on Greenberg Road east of Vermillion.  Unfortunately, Thomas died in 1890 at the age of 35, leaving Sally with five children and a farm to run.  In later years her son Harvey and his wife bought the farm and Sally lived in a little house on the farm.  Then, she became “senile” from “hardening of the arteries” and could no longer live along. She lived with grandma and grandpa from my earliest memories until she died in 1945.  At first she would do dishes and even in later years when she could no longer do dishes, she could snap beans and shell peas.  In the 40’s Sally would stay with a family named Wilson on W. Main in Vermillion during the worst winter months as it was very hard for her to walk to the outhouse in the bad weather. I’ve always wondered why neither of her two other daughters took her for a while.  The daughter in Sioux City lived in the city and had all conveniences.  Sally was a widow for over 50 years, and had white hair that came to the middle of her back.  I liked to brush and braid it.  She loved to eat and liked to finish a meal with pulled apart bread covered with gravy.

Because my Mother worked, if I got sick I went to Grandma’s.  One year I was running a high fever and everyone thought I was coming down with chicken pox, which was going around.  But I didn’t break out with the pox. Grandma was taking a huge basket filled with homemade rolls with chicken salad for the Ladies Aid at the Baptist Church.  As she was leaving, Grandpa suggested giving me some brandy (the only alcohol in their house – kept for medicinal purposes).  Grandma said, “Claude Huetson, you can’t give that to a child” and left.  He brought in the brandy and said never to tell Grandma.  I choked and coughed and got it down and promptly went to sleep.  When I woke up, Grandma was back and said, “See, Claude, you didn’t need to give that brandy to her.”  Sure enough, I was covered with the pox!  Grandpa winked at me – and I never told on him.

Grandma and Grandpa were extremely self-sufficient.  Every year they raised huge gardens, and vegetables, fruits, jams, pickles were all canned.  Garden work was always done in the morning or evening when it was cooler.  Grandma wore a big sunbonnet.  Clouds of mosquitoes were always an issue.  All the peas had to be shelled, the green beans snapped and the corn cut from the cob before putting it in jars.  Asparagus grew wild in the ditches and when it was ready, we would all take a box and a knife and cut asparagus which was canned.  Gooseberries grew on bushes in the grove west of the house and a huge mulberry tree was in the yard.  The berries were canned and made into jam.  Strawberries and rhubarb grew in the garden.  Friends had apple and cherry trees and shared.  Before they had electricity and before a locker started up in Vermillion, they would even can the beef they butchered.  I remember all the women gathered in the kitchen cutting up meat and filling jars for the pressure cooker.  Other fresh vegetables such as potatoes, carrots and cabbage were put in barrels of sand (nothing touching) in the cellar.  Even apples would keep for months that way.  They raised all their own meat – beef, pork and chicken.  Grandpa milked enough cows to supply their milk/cream needs and the chickens laid enough eggs that occasionally huge boxes of eggs would be sold in Vermillion.  Water from the windmill was extremely artesian so it was kept for the animals.  A huge cistern beside the back porch provided grandma and grandpa’s drinking water.  A water truck from town would come out and fill the cistern when it got low.  It had a hand pump to draw the water out.  When the icebox filled, huge jugs of milk were lowered into the cistern to help keep them cool.  The only items grandma and grandpa purchased were basics such as coffee, flour, sugar, yeast, baking soda and powder.  Spices and such items as vanilla were purchased from the Watkins salesman who stopped off periodically.  All bread was made by hand.  A huge treat was a homemade roll just out of the oven slathered with butter and homemade jam.

There was a water pail on the sink in the kitchen with a dipper in it from which we all drank.  Water from washing up drained into a huge bucket which, of course, had to be emptied.  A white towel on a roller was hung on the back of the door to the upstairs and used by all.  The cob box was next to the old Beckwith stove.  There was never enough wood on the prairie so in the fall the corn was shelled and an old shed back of the house was filled with cobs. Grandpa kept the box by the stove full.  He also had to shake down the ashes periodically and dump them.  Grandma made the most wonderful food on the old Beckwith stove.  She had an old dustpan in the cob box and knew just how many cobs to throw into it to make most any item, including cream puffs.  The stove had a tool that you could insert in four lids on top to lift them off and if something wasn’t cooking fast enough, the pans were put directly on the flames. All her cast iron frying pans had crusty bottoms.  The stove had two warming ovens above and a reservoir for warm water on the right.  There was a can on top of the stove for such things as bacon grease.  An old, dented pan was kept back of the reservoir for scraps.  After supper, the scrap pan was taken out by the back gate where the current farm dog would always be waiting for his food.  Whenever shortening was needed, rendered lard was used.  It made wonderful pie crusts.  Dishes were washed by filling a huge pan from the reservoir – with maybe from the teakettle which was always on the stove – and another huge pan for rinsing.  Dishtowels were made from flour and feed sacks.  However, when sheets got thin in the middle, they were “turned” which meant cutting them the long way down the middle, sewing the sides back together with a flat fell seam.  When that wore out, they were cut up, along with old towels, for “dishrags” and “washrags.”

Although animals were never let into the house, Grandma relented one horribly cold Christmas Eve and let the dog come in and lie on a blanket in back of the stove.  The dog crawled on his belly to his assigned spot and never moved.  As was the custom on Christmas Eve, Grandma was making oyster stew.  Oysters could be purchased at the grocery store in pint jars at this time of the year.  As she was pouring the oysters into the stew, one got away, slid under the stove and landed in front of the dog.  He raised up, sniffed it and rolled on it.  Because I knew that dogs would roll in anything rotten, I’ve never eaten an oyster since.

A big cupboard on the same wall with the stove had two tip-out bins for flour and sugar.  Spices, measuring devices, etc., were stored in the cabinet above and the pans in a cupboard below which had a small counter.  That was where most things were mixed.

Across the room there was a huge built in cupboard that held all the everyday dishes.  The good dishes were put were put in the china closet in the dining room.  The cupboard always had a china bowl with a lid that contained soda crackers and a quart of flax seed.  Grandpa had trouble with his stomach which a specialist in Sioux City diagnosed as an ulcer.  Rather than take expensive medication, Grandpa ate a huge teaspoon of flax seed first thing in the morning to coat the ulcer.  It worked!  Many an evening was spent at the table covered with newspapers, getting the flax seeds out to keep the jar full.  Flax comes in a round ball about the size of a marble, tissue-paper thin with three or four separate compartments, each containing one teeny flax seed. It sure made a mess.

Grandpa milked twice a day and brought the full pails into the house.  A giant “separator” stood in the kitchen.  The milk was poured into the top, a handle was cranked, and cream came out of one spout and milk the other.  Of course the separator was a bear to wash. Butter had to be churned by hand from the wonderful cream.  It was cooler to sit under the tree by the concrete back porch and churn the butter.

When the cucumbers were ready, huge crocks were brought into the “back room” off the kitchen and the pickles started.  This involved gallons of vinegar and always smelled of vinegar and spices when you walked through.

Laundry was also done in the kitchen between the stove and table.  Grandpa rolled the old wringer washer from the back room into the kitchen.  A huge copper boiler was set on the stove and Grandpa pumped many pails of water outside and brought in to pour into the boiler.  When the water got hot, it was dipped by pails and poured into the washer.  A huge galvanized tub was set on a bench behind the washer, filled with water, and as  clothes were washed, they were run through the wringer into the rinse tub, squished around by hand, then the wringer was moved, and they were put through again into a basket.  All clothes were washed in the same water which meant “whites” first and Grandpa’s dirty overalls last.  The washer had a spigot to empty it on the bottom but the tub had to be emptied with a bucket.  The clothes then had to be hung on a clothesline to dry.  Ironing was done first with flat irons.  There were two with one heating on top of the stove while the other ironed.  Finally, Grandma got a kerosene iron which stayed hot.  She would listen to “Ma Perkins” on the radio in the kitchen while she ironed.  The electric iron sure made ironing easier.

We took baths in the kitchen in the winter and in the “back room” in the summer.  The same tub used for rinse water with laundry was set on the floor, the copper boiler was brought in and filled, then dipped into the tub.  Everybody used the same bathwater, kids first, then women, finally the men.  Baths were always taken on Saturday night for Church Sunday morning.  Washing women’s hair was always a hard task.  It was done over the sink with a pan of warm water next to it.  The pan had a handle to pour water over the hair.  It was soaped, scrubbed and the rest of the pan of water poured over to rinse it.  Grandma had several “dust caps” made from leftover materials; she wore them to keep her hair clean.  She also always wore a huge apron that covered the whole front of her “housedresses” that she used for everyday.

Eggs were gathered daily.  I hated reaching under setting hens because they would always peck me.  Eggs were “candled” or checked for baby chicks, etc., in the back room off the kitchen.  The room was on the west and the sun would come in the windows late in the afternoon.  We’d sit on a chair, holding each egg up to the sun and the good ones went into the big box to sell.  In the winter a lantern was used to “candle.”  Any eggs with cracks were kept for personal use.  Any rotten ones, the grandchildren got to take out to the grove and throw at trees.

There was a trapdoor in the kitchen floor that led to the dirt cellar.  Another set of doors outside also led to the cellar.  By fall all the shelves in the cellar were lined with beautifully colored jars of canned foods.  One year a skunk got in the cellar, crawled up between the walls and died.  Nobody wanted to sit by Grandma and Grandpa in church for a couple of weeks.  Before electricity, there was an icebox in the kitchen by the separator.  In the winter, the fellows would go down to either the Vermillion or Missouri Rivers and chop ice and haul it in.  It was loaded into the “icehouse” till it was completely full.  It sort of kept itself cool clear into August.  The ice was chipped off and brought into the icebox.  However, in the summer with all the cooking and canning, the temperature must have reached 120 degrees in that hot old kitchen.  And there weren’t screens on all the windows so the sticky fly-paper was hung from the ceiling and had to be changed frequently.  The ice in the icebox would be all melted and flowing across the floor and everyone too busy to go to the ice house and chop more.  At least once in the summer everyone would get together on a Sunday afternoon, and some of the last ice chipped and put into the crank ice cream freezer.  Of course it was made with whole cream.

After electricity was installed, Grandma had an electric mixer and thought it was the greatest invention ever.  Then an electric frying pan was purchased.  But the main purchase was the big refrigerator that replaced the icebox.  What a marvel it was!  There were also electric lights in every room.  The old oil lamps could be put aside.  They were a lot of work.  They had to be filled, wicks trimmed and tops washed with the dishes.  Electric fans were purchased and helped a lot with the hot kitchen in the summer.

In the morning, Grandpa, in his denim overalls would go out to the barn to do chores while Grandma prepared their meal.  Breakfast always included oatmeal with sugar and cream, eggs in some form and either sausage or bacon from their own hogs.  The sausage was ground with a grinder that attached to a table, meat put on the top, a handle was turned and it went through a piece fitted on the end and ground up whatever was put through. Then it was mixed with spices and made into patties.  One of my favorite stories involved Grandpa’s innovation.  Grandma had just given birth to Ruth, her youngest.  Her sister Irma from Sioux City came to help out.  Grandpa butchered a pig; he and Irma were trying to grind the meat for sausage.  Always the inventor, Grandpa went out to the machine shed and brought in an old engine to attach to the grinder.  Grandma came out of the bedroom to see what was going on just as the engine started; everything in the grinder flew all over the ceiling!  Grandma just said “Oh, my” and went back to bed.

When harvest time came, sometimes several neighbors would work together to get each other’s crops in.  This meant that morning coffee had to be taken to the field along with goodies such as homemade cinnamon rolls.  Afternoon break always included cookies.  Meals were breakfast, dinner and supper.  For dinner, there were always too many men to get into the house; planks were set up outside on saw horses.  The other wives would usually bring one dish and come early to help.  Grandma made the bread or rolls the day before.  The night before, if they were having chicken, Grandpa would go out with his long stick with a crook on the end and catch the chickens and chop their heads off.  They were gutted and dipped in boiling water to make the feathers come off easier.  Then run over quickly over a flame to burn off the pinfeathers.  They were then cut up, put in the icebox and ready to fry the next day.  They always had mashed potatoes and gravy, fresh lettuce, tomatoes, radishes, cucumbers, etc., for salad and fresh vegetables.  That is a lot of peas to shell, green beans to snap, or corn to husk.  And always pie or cake for dessert.

As the arthritis in Grandma’s knees worsened, she got a high stool and would lean back on that when working at the stove or the small counter in the cupboard that held the flour and sugar.  However, she managed to prepare all their meals until they sold the farm in 1956.  By that time her heart was giving out also.  Because Grandpa had given up milking the cows by then they had to buy milk.  But the chickens stayed till the farm was sold.

They were truly pioneers.

Arlyce Lea Brown Lewis.

 

 

I have only one obituary.  This partial was sent by Doris Silver Newman of Rome, Georgia.

 

ELDIE BOSWELL SILVER

 

Eldie Boswell Silver, wife of Howard Taft Silver, b. 25 February 1910.  d. 4 October, 2005 in Kingston, Bartow County, Georgia.  She and Howard were the parents of 13 children.  Howard was a son of Asbury Franklin “Berry” Silver and Mary Ann “Molly” Presley. He died 16 October 1992 in Kingston and is buried in Oothcalooga, Bartow Co., Georgia.

(George Silver Sr. >George Silver Jr. > John Jackson Silver > William Riley Silver > Samuel Fleming Silver > Asbury Franklin Silver > Howard Taft Silver m. Eldie Boswell.

 

 

The 58^th North Carolina Infantry Regiment, Company “K”

& Civil War Letters to Folks Back Home

by Rex H. Redmon

 

 

Hello Cousins,

 

        The date was Sunday, September 20, 1863, and the Confederate Victory at Chickamauga was complete by about 7 p.m. The 58^th North Carolina lost 46 killed, 114 wounded and one missing, for 161 casualties, over 50% of the regiment’s pre-battle strength, and sustained 49% of the total casualties for Kelly’s Brigade.[1]

The 58^th North Carolina, including Company “K” camped on the battlefield the nights of September 20-22, surrounded by their dead and wounded as Garrett Gouge reported in his letter to his wife, Rosannah, on September 29, 1863. He says;

On Monday morning, (the 21^st of September, 1863) all was calm only the terrible groans of the wounded which were heard in every direction. I don’t know the terrible loss on either side but it was terrible. I think the enemy loss two to our one in killed and wounded and prisoners. I don’t think they took but a few of our men prisoners. We are still in sight of the Yankees. They are in Chattanooga and we are within a mile and half of town, but all is quiet now. I am so unwell I cannot write all I wish. I have to close.

 

Because of brush fires started by the firing of munitions during the battle, many bodies of the 58^th were burned beyond recognition. The most gallant soldiers from the 58th North Carolina who engaged in the Battle of Chickamauga were honored in a special ceremony by Confederate authorities. Sergeant P.H. Duncan was the recipient of that honor from “K” Company.

Confederate President Jefferson Davis called on the Army of Tennessee, (which included the North Carolina 58^th) quartered on the summit (Missionary Ridge) above Chattanooga on October 9, 1863 and inspected the soldiers. Weaver writes, Davis rode along the entire line, in range of Union cannon at Chattanooga.

The 58^th spent most of October and November 1863 on the heights above Chattanooga where they probably engaged in the construction of breastworks and supporting military units bombarding Chattanooga below. Several attacks against Confederate forces along Missionary Ridge by reinforced Union troops led by General Phil Sheridan were repulsed.  Eventually Confederate units were also deployed in rifle pits at the foot of Missionary Ridge and unfortunately, those unites were bombarded by premature explosions from their own batteries located on the crest of Missionary Ridge.

The Confederate line was eventually breached by reinforced Union troops and Sheridan’s troops poured through the breach. The Confederate units, among them the North Carolina 60^th, fell apart and in confusion and bewilderment, retreated. Eventually, Union troops reached the summit and deployed themselves along the ridge.

Confederate Brigadier General Alexander Welch Reynolds, Brigade commander and a West Point Graduate described his Brigade’s actions when the battle for Missionary Ridge began. He says;

At 7 o’clock on the morning of the 25^th, I joined my Brigade posted in the rifle pits at the foot of Missionary Ridge. His brigade he says, covered a space of some fourteen-hundred yards. At 10 o’clock the enemy attacked his lines. The enemy was allowed to approach within 200 yards when he ordered his troops to open fire and after an hour long battle the enemy was driven back with considerable losses and did not again force them selves upon his position.

 

At 2 o’clock he states he received orders to fall back from the rifle pits to the crest of Missionary Ridge. I formed my line of battle on the ground designated. I will here state that some of the Companies of the North Carolina 60^th became separated from their Regiment and extended themselves too far to the right to be effective when the attack came. A short time after I had taken my position on the crest of the Ridge, I observed the enemy advancing to the attack in three lines of battle.  

The enemy, having reached the abandoned rifle pits, was fired upon with canisters and they temporarily faltered. He states the enemy then closed ranks and began to advance up the slopes of Missionary Ridge where they faced a deadly frontal attack of musketry and they were again checked from advancing. 

Reynolds feels optimistic the Confederate lines will hold at that point. Rifle emplacements in the rifle pits at the foot of Missionary Ridge were still manned to the left and to the right of his brigade. However, Reynolds says, unfortunately at this juncture, when every heart beat high with hope and when victory was almost in our grasp; the troops in the rifle pits on my right broke and fled in mass disorder. The enemy seeing the advantage that must result from this disgraceful and inexplicable panic on the part of hitherto invincible troops, at once crossed the hill on my right and opened a heavy fire on my lines, completely enfilading my position.

Reynolds immediately changed the positions of his brigade and he says as soon as my new line was formed I opened fire and continued to engage the enemy until I found that the troops on my left (in the rifle pits) had also given way and the enemy soon occupied the ridge on my left and now rear. Rather than allow his small Brigade to be captured he withdrew down the hill sheltering his troops from intense enemy fire, who by this time had opened fire with our own captured guns, he says.

Reynolds gives high accolades of praise for the North Carolina 58^th as well as other units in his brigade saying, all the officers and men acted with gallantry and coolness and that none left their ranks and obeyed every order promptly without the slightest confusion or disorder.

Weaver claims casualties for the 58^th North Carolina were heavy in Confederate losses at Missionary Ridge and that many of the men were taken prisoner but no numbers are given in Weaver’s papers or the diaries of any of the commanders of the various companies and brigades.

Garrett Dawes Gouge writes home to his wife Rosannah on November 8, 1863 after a long silence. This particular letter does no have any details of the battle for Missionary Ridge because he was probably sick and did not fight in the engagement.

 

Camp near Chattanooga
Nov. 8, 1863

 

Mrs. Rosannah Gouge, Dear Companion:

 

I gladly embrace the present opportunity to drop you a few lines to let you know I am on the mend and have got back to my regiment. I am on the mend although my legs swell up every few days. I hope I will be well.

 

I hope this note may find you and my children well.

 

I have nothing strange to write you at present. The Yankees are still at Chattanooga. We are in sight of their camp but no fight expected soon as I know of. They are cannonading some today and have been burning more or less every day but no expectation of a regular engagement soon. Times are much like they have been for the last three weeks. 

 

Rosannah, I tried to get a furlough when I was sick, but no chance. You must not think hard of me for not writing more for I have not been where I could get writing done. (Actually Levi Deweese Silver wrote most of Garrett’s letters for him and I’m sure Levi was not with Garrett when he was sick.)

 

Your letter came to hand the other day which I was glad to hear but sorry to hear that you had done all your plowing and foddering yourself. Rosannah, you must not work too hard for you nor no other woman can do the work you are trying to do. You must try to hire your heaviest work done if you can and if not it will have to go undone. I don’t want you to kill yourself at work because I am not there to help you. I loaned Isaac Grindstaff five dollars and he promised to do you five days work for it. If you can get him to do the work, do so and if not get the money off him. 

 

I want you to keep your beef hide and tan it. (In Garrett’s last letter in September he told Rosannah to do what she wanted to do with their cow—so I suppose she ate the cow.)

 

Give your mother’s folks my respects. Tell them I will write before long I was glad to get their letter. Also give father and mother my respects. I was proud to hear from them. Hector (McNeil) and Patty, I was glad to hear from them. Tell Hector to save me a dram until I get back. If you see sister Zilpha, tell her I have not forgot her and will write to her before long.

 

Anderson, you must write to me and let me know how you are learning your book and let me know how you and little Richmond are getting along. You must be good children and mind your mother and not forget your pap. I will try to come home to see you sometime this winter and help you get wood a few days.

 

Yours as ever, an affectionate husband

 

G.D. Gouge to wife and children

 

Written by L.D. Silver

 

            Soon after the battle of Missionary Ridge, the Army of Tennessee needed time to recover from their losses and to re-supply and retrain for upcoming battles in the spring. The Army of Tennessee commander, General Joseph Eggleston Johnston, attempted to gather all the Confederate soldiers outside of Virginia that could be spared. He prepared for winter quarters near present day Dalton, Georgia. According to Weaver, Reynolds’ men remained rather sedate until February 1864.

Camp ridden diseases such as diphtheria, small pox and dysentery were the worst enemies of the 58^th North Carolina during the hard winter. The diseases had a depressing moral effect on the soldiers as the above letter by Garrett states. Yet, conflicting statements by newspaper journalist were reported throughout the southeast. Some journalists reported the Army of Tennessee was completely demoralized while others reported the army was hungry for revenge.

During a skirmish in February of 1864 with Federal Forces about eight miles north of Dalton, the 58^th North Carolina and the 60^th North Carolina Regiments took 24 wounded, three mortally.

Reynolds wrote in a letter to his sister, that the fight was his own fight. He stated he selected the time and place and his troops alone gained the victory against almost 7.000 of the enemy. He says he repelled the enemy three times and he elaborated that he had never felt so glorious in his life when his men routed the third charge. The battle was known as the Battle of Rocky Face Ridge. During the battle, Sergeant Major James Ingles of the 58^th North Carolina, a Scotsman by birth was killed. His death was greatly mourned by his comrades states George Washington Harper in his memoirs of the Battle of Rocky Face Ridge. 

While the 58^th North Carolina winters in Dalton, Georgia, I’m going to close my portion of November’s newsletter. I wish each of you good health and a Happy Thanksgiving.

Aye yours…Rex Redmon