by Andrea Feeney
I grew up on farms with cows, horses, dogs, and cats Between Grant and Owen Counties in Kentucky, a place Called Twin Bridges. My father was a tobacco farmer and My mother was a housewife. My grandpa's farm was called Crouch's Place. This was a farm with a small store and gas Station where neighbors gathered to buy and visit.
As a child, I loved it on the farm. There was plenty of Freedom to play in the woods. We were a poor but proud People. Most of the farm kids were poor like us. Only a Few big farms were richer than us.
My dad and mom worked hard to feed and clothe us on the Different farms that we lived, but in 1956 my parents Decided to move to the big town of Covington to make a Better life for us.
When we moved to town, Dad got a job working for the Spring Grove Cemetery as a grounds keeper. Mom got a Job with St. Elizabeth Hospital as a central Supply Aide.
We lived in both housing projects for a while until Mom and Dad could afford to rent a house. Finally, we were able to Buy a big red house on East 16th Street where we lived for Over 30 years.
I was young when we moved to Covington, and it was hard for this shy, quiet and sickly girl hat I was to adjust to the big city. People yelled at each other, horns blared, and sirens whirred all hours of the day and night. The pace was quicker in the city schools. I was sick often and failed twice. I missed my country friends and cousins. It took time for me to make new friends in the city.
We couldn't wait for weekends and summers so we could Go to Crouch's Place, my granddaddy's farm, where we Could roam free in the woods, playing cowboys on tobacco Sticks, or go swimming in the creek, or help sew quilts, Plant gardens, milk cows, feed the pigs, go berry picking With Mom Crouch, play in the hay barn, find arrowheads in The woods, see all my cousins and sleep three or four in a Big iron bed and tell all our secrets under Mom Crouch's Quilts. I can still remember the sound of rain on her tin roof, The sound of dogs barking and the frogs croaking at night. The rooster's crow was our alarm clock. Mom Crouch Would have breakfast ready between 7:00 and 8:00 in the Morning and yell for us kids to get up and eat and get our Chores done. We weren't supposed to be sleeping all day Like the city folks do! I can still smell and taste her biscuits And gravy - yum!
Well, summer wouldn't last long enough and we were back In the noisy, smelly city. Gradually, over the years I have Become a city girl, but I still miss our grandparents farm Now that they have passed on and her children have sold the Farm off to someone else. There's no place to go to Anymore. My mom who was the center of our lives has also Died in 1978 of leukemia. She was our inspiration. She Only finished the 8th grade, but she would say with pride That all her children graduated from high school. My mom Had so many talents like never knowing a stranger, always Inviting someone to a meal, and boy…could she cook! She Involved in her church and her neighborhood, but most of All she let her children and her grandchildren know that she Loved them.
My dad has returned to the country since Mom died. He Was a good father, and he has lots of talents too. He plays Guitar, fiddle, banjo, and a little piano. At 81, he has lost Interest in the world around him. He still loves his children And grandchildren, but he doesn't talk much and doesn't Feel good anymore. His connection to Sean isn't as strong As it used to be. I believe he is just waiting till the time he Can see Mom again.
My son, Sean, never knew his grandmother or his Dad's Parents because they died before he was born. I take him out to our old church and show him the old home place where I have so many good memories. He'll never know the joys of growing up in a big family or listening to those country sounds.
My life now center around my son, Sean, and my husband, Church, and volunteering at Sean's school. I am happy with My life to a large degree, but I still miss my mom and wish Sometimes for that slow-paced life we had in the country.
Sample Oral Histories:
- Director's
Notes
- The
Power of Tradition
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Oral Histories
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Photographs
- Performance
Notes
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Music
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Documentary
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