Now here’s an interesting story… When I was very small, my grandfather moved to Indiana. I think I was around 3 or 4 or around 1957 or 58. I remember bulldozers, plows, and lots of work. Streets being cut into the wooded area. Houses being build. Families deciding where they wanted to live.
Anyway, the streets were carved and our home was built. It was build I believe from some former cabin and over the years we hired a drifter to help us and gave him room and board in exchange for his labor. What a great deal. I made a life long friend who eventually married my great grandmother who is a direct decendant of Little Aggie a full blood Cherokee Indian. I’ll tell you that story later on.
We had a well with a pump in the kitchen that had to be primed every time! What a pain. There was no running water in that house as long as I lived there. We had a wood burning stove. I used to use a Prince Albert can opened up by a manual can opener and bake bread on the top of the stove just for fun. Thanks grandpa for opening the can for me! Anyway, we had coal oil lamps for light at night. I remember how many times my mother would read the bible to us kids, all eight of us!
Mom and Dad sang gospel songs on WSLM, Salem, Indiana. Every Sunday, we would sit by the radio and wait for Mom and Dad’s show to come on just so we could hear them call our names. It made me feel famous.
I moved at 16. We had an outhouse yet again at the new place. I used to run from a red fighting rooster everytime I wanted to go. It took me many years to be able to eat chicken wings. I was a little bit on the timmed side. Well, actually, I forgot to mention we didn’t have running water at the new house yet, we were a little behind the times.
My father died at the new house. It was a sad day for all of us. It was September 17, 1973 and Dad was on his way to his first revival. He felt concerned about the kids at home and turned around. I wish he had not. But, he did. Robert Snell, we all but 23 at the time and he had a gun and my father gave his life to save his kids. He offered his life and it was taken. I’ll post the newspaper articles later on.
For this reason, I live in Florida and not that humble home I cherish so many memories from… Hopefull, one day I’ll collect enough photos to show you the construction of how Rollinghills Subdivision became a reality and my wonderful family for creating it.