The Mountain Laurel
The Journal of Mountain Life

Visit us on FaceBookGenerations of Memories
from the
Heart of the Blue Ridge

A Family Goes Home

By Geneva Overby © 1992

Issue: March, 1992

Editor's Note: I received a letter from Mrs. Violet Lester, Mrs. Overby's sister in February, a sad letter indeed. Geneva Overby (who wrote the story, "Perfect Tree Found On A Snowy Day" in our December, 1991 issue) had gone into the hospital for a routine operation but something went wrong and she never came out of it. She was the youngest of nine children in their family, and was only 54 years old when she died. Our sympathy goes out to the family we know will miss her. The following story reflects what wonderful memories Geneva Overby must have had about her family and childhood days.

The old homeplace Geneva Oberby wrote about.The old homeplace Geneva Oberby wrote about.November 9, 1989 - Today was such a special day for me. I went back to the old farm where I grew up. It was also special because I had my five sisters and two brothers with me. As we walked down the long road to the old farm house, each of us had our own memories of our childhood days. There was the field (grown up in weeds) where we used to play ball. There was the old granary where we used to heap potatoes and play hide and seek in and around. We could see the old packing barn where we stripped tobacco to get money for market. As we got closer to the old house we reminisced of days gone by where the most beautiful times we ever had unfolded before us.

As we approached the old home place, some things had been added - like a room on the back. We tried to imagine what it looked like before. The old well had been torn down, the old walnut tree gone. Each of us had our own ideas as to where those things stood 40 to 50 years ago.

We walked round the house and the old chimney had been redone, but it still held special memories for each of us in that is where we spent many hours, sitting on the little steps of it in the sunshine, talking about any and everything. Then we came to the front porch where we used to have a swing and that's where we each had special memories of our girlfriends or boyfriends. Where Dad always left the front porch light for us at night when we were dating and we wished time and time again he would forget to turn it on, because on that porch is where we got to steal a good night kiss.

We looked across the fields and saw the old pear and apple trees. I was told they still produce each year. The old barns where we spent many hours of hard work stringing leaves of tobacco. Some of the barn sheds have fallen down, but we still remembered the good times.

We didn't get to walk over the whole farm because some of us had to get back to our jobs (Oh, if we could be free from this busy life and go back to the quiet days and serenity we had on the old farm, what a joy that would be.)

Maybe while we are all still living and in very good health, we can all go back and see the rest of the old farm and reminisce some more.