Mincey’s Musings
Year One, Week Six

Comforting Cat

An old country song goes, “I remember the year that Clayton Delaney died”. I remember not only the year, but the date and month that Frank Mincey died.

Before the internet, before television, before telephones and radio, even before newspapers came to be, storytelling was one of the best forms of entertainment. Folks would huddle together on the front porch, around the fire place, near the pot belly stove in grocery stores, at the grist mill, or anywhere a few could conger to hear someone tell a tale. Story telling has been recorded throughout the world, but nowhere does it have a more colorful and entertaining history than here in the Appalachian Mountains.

Adapted by Shirley McMurtrie

I look back to the days what are gone
When living was simple and plain.
We rushed to the ole stove to be warmed
When chilled by the frost and the rain.

To the end of our days, we'll never forget
Our regular Saturday scrub.
Needed or not, the water not hot,
By the ole cook stove, in the tub.

We loved that ole stove for the things that it made:
The puddings, the pies and the cake,
The jelly and jam and savory ham,
Roast chicken and tasty Swiss steak.

Mother's favorite candy was a vanilla fondant cone dipped in chocolate, but making it was beyond her expertise. No matter, she could buy a small bag of it whenever she went to town. Other than the infamous Hersey Bar, it was the only candy I knew in those years. I can still see her at the counter in Woolworth's pointing to her favorite candy and saying, “I'll take ten cents worth of those, please.” The clerk would hand her five or six in a small brown paper sack. On the way home, one piece for each of us was a special treat.

If you're feeling disillusioned with party-line politics, sometimes it's refreshing to look at the politicians right here at home, the people who talk to the folks they represent every day, the politicians who don't see themselves as answerable to a party, but to the people who voted them into office.

Whether you agree with him on all decisions or not, Union County Mayor Mike Williams is one of those hometown politicians. Born and raised in Union County, he went on to serve in the state legislature for 18 years and is in his second term as mayor.

Union County 4-H greatly thanks the community for tremendous response to the 4-H Friends and Family Campaign. The campaign was launched by the Tennessee 4-H Foundation to provide county 4-H clubs with an opportunity to grow funds, gain new support, and increase awareness of 4-H. Union County joined the movement, and with overwhelming donations from patrons in the county, raised funds towards a goal to grow the county’s established endowment fund.

Allison Baugh, Knoxville, Tennessee native, is a senior at the University of Tennessee, majoring in Agriculture, Leadership, Education, and Communications (ALEC) and minoring in Plant Sciences. She is a graduate of Knoxville Catholic High School and the youngest coming from a family with much experience at the University. Her older brother was a Forestry graduate in 2016. Also, her mother, from Spring City, and father, from Chattanooga, are both UT Alums. Allison anticipates graduating as a part of the May 2018 class.

Tuesday, January 29, 2018 at 9:00pm President Trump will deliver his first State of the Union Address. The State of the Union Address is given to fulfill rules in Article II, Section 3 of the U.S. Constitution for the president to “give to the Congress Information of the State of the Union, and recommend to their Consideration such measures as he shall judge necessary and expedient”. President Trump will have the unique opportunity to speak, in the House Chamber, before Congress, the Supreme Court Justices, members of the Diplomatic Corps, Joint Chiefs and extinguished guests.

Claudius Meade Capps was born April 9, 1863 two miles below Walkers Ford on the Clinch River in Union County, Tennessee. He moved with the family in 1869 to the Maynardville Valley (Nave Hill area) seven miles east of Maynardville, the County seat of Union County. Here he spent his boyhood and young manhood. At that time, there were no educational opportunities in this county, and he educated himself as best he could by studying at home–often at night by a dipwick light or a blazing pine knot by the kitchen fire.

We lived near a swamp. Not just any swamp. This one seemed to go on forever. The tenant house we lived in, next to an old cottonwood tree, was at the foot of a steep hill. If we stood in the driveway and looked across the road, the swamp ran to the horizon. On our side of the road, the same swamp continued on. It was our playground. In the spring the swamp would be flooded with the heavy spring rains. We didn't venture out there then, but when the swamp dried up, we would be off and running. It was our playground.