The New Booth: Spencer Antique Mall

I've spent several hours the past few days getting our new booth at the Spencer (WV) Antique Mall set up and ready for business. It's a long way from being done yet, but here are a few photos of the progress so far.

I am still arranging things to suit me so all is likely to change in the next few weeks. Top is a photo of the Hoosier-style cabinet we moved into the booth. It still has the original label on the porcelain worktop, and the sifter is still in place too.

Candace, the manager of the mall, has been a lot of help, and so encouraging. It makes me feel welcome in this new place.

We used some privacy fencing panels to make a wall for hanging things. I have a lot more to add to the wall.

The round white table I showed a few days ago has become a real focal point for displays.

Another view of the fencing wall, and a nice 5-drawer chest we had in the building, waiting for a home. The green bench was in the building too. Once we started digging in there we found a lot of things that we need to get in one of our booths.

A large steel shelving unit isn't really pretty but it gets the job done, and holds a lot of stuff. It's not nearly full yet.

The wood shelves are not yet full either, even though I've brought in a lot of totes! Lots of room for more, and that's a good thing because the more things in a booth, the more likely that there will be sales.

The finished chairs look pretty nice too. I hadn't realized until I got to the booth that the little brocade footstool went perfectly with the black chair with its tapestry seat.

That's a quick look. I'll post more as I continue to work on this new space. So far, it's been a fun adventure, and we've already had a few sales. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

More Wildflowers: Joe's Run

This patch of green doesn't really catch the eye, does it, when you're just driving past?




But just look closer and this is what you might find:

Bellwort drooping its lovely flowers above barely visible woods betony...

and wild phlox, mouse-ear chickweed and violets, along with...

bluets and wood betony...

that look quite pretty together, and with cinquefoil too (the little yellow flower below).

Hiding beneath the others you might find henbit (the little purple flower below)...

and if you look on the other side of the road, you'll discover golden ragwort and wild geranium running riot in a field.

All to be seen by just stopping the car for a moment, getting out, and looking closely at what is all around. It just doesn't pay to be in a hurry at this time of year, does it?

About wood betony: the plant goes by many other names, including lousewort because Europeans believed that cattle that went near the plant would get covered in lice. One legend about a variety of betony says that when Veronica saw Jesus carrying the cross, she wiped the sweat from his face with a cloth that was scented with betony. The cloth later bore the imprint of his face and was considered a miracle.

Veronica was the confirmation name I took as a child, because I admired her bravery in facing the scorn of the crowd to do an act of mercy and compassion. But until recently I did not know the connection to betony, and the story makes me want this little wildling in my gardens at home.

Rte 119

Thursday I needed to go to Clendenin for work, so I took the long way home. Not longer in miles, but longer in time because I never want to hurry when I'm driving 119 from Clendenin to Spencer.

Once a busy road, 119 became a quiet country two-lane when Interstates 77 and 79 were built, relieving the road of carrying the heavy traffic from Charleston to Morgantown and other points north. Those new highways almost tolled the death knell for Clendenin, and the town still struggles to survive since it is now off the beaten path. For me, Clendenin hold a special place because it was where I first began work as a library branch manager. I still have friends there and visiting the town is a reminder of those happy days of hard work and discovery.

The mighty Elk River flows through Clendenin, and although peaceful in this photo, I well remember how the river, fed by multiple creeks, spewed out of its banks in 1997 and left the small town under four feet or more of water.

A barn stands testament to days gone by, as nearby redbuds blazed their herald of spring.

A flash of blue in a dark, north-facing hollow along the road caused me turn around and come back, hoping to see something I'd seen years ago on this road at this time of year.

Nestled into the moist hillside was a lavish expanse of Virginia bluebells, a flower I haven't seen growing wild in many places in my area. And mixed with the bluebells were white trilliums and Dutchmen's breeches.

Although I tried several times for a good photo, I did not end up with a satisfactory one. My problem was the same as when I'd seen the flowers before--the road takes a deep curve here and there is no place to get off the road. It's really not a safe place for taking pictures. I watched behind me to be sure no one was coming, but even so the curving road doesn't give much visibility so I had to snap-and-go. Next time, I will try to find a place to park and walk to the site, if possible, although the narrow shoulders give me pause.

I eventually arrived in Spencer just as the sun was dropping low in the sky. The pretty houses on the hill called out for one more photo, which I snapped just as my camera batter died.

Time to quit messing around and get to the house.

Sisters, Babies, Friends and A Busy Weekend

I haven't written in a few days, so this is a catch-up post about what's been going on at my house:

Junking Friday! Julie and I hit Spencer, WV to explore the resale and antique shops. We only got through half of them. Which means we need to do another trip when she comes again, right?

We especially enjoyed the antique mall in Spencer. While many items in the mall are technically not antiques, we found great vintage items and even a set of new dish towels for me.

A view of one aisle of the mall. You can see why I got a parking ticket; who knew we were in there more than an hour? The time flew by.

Back home, the guys worked on an electric fence to protect one of my gardens. Last year the deer and rabbits got more green beans than I did. This year I intend to win. (Intend being the operative word, probably.) You can see who's doing the work! And you'll have to ask Larry about the pie tim with peanut butter on it. Will something like that really trick deer?

Saturday was a busy day as we prepared for my granddaughter's baby shower. Her sisters Cassie and Kate and stepmom Jennifer arrived from Virginia late the night before, but everyone was settled on air mattresses by midnight to be ready for the big day. In the morning, Larry and Julie's husband found the amount of female energy a bit overwhelming and vamoosed early for the Downtowner and tractor places while the wimmens went in many directions to pick up supplies and food for the shower.

It all came together after 3 or 4 trips back to my house for needed or forgotten items. By 1:45 pm the table looked like this:

and the cake looked like this.

We used a lot of my vintage crystal and a few tablecloths and it did look pretty. Jennifer, Kate and Cassie did the decorating--I mostly drove up and down the road to get things, it seemed! But I was there in time to help put the veggie tray together and organize the punch bowl.

As you can see, Jordan is really showing now, with only 6 weeks left to her due date.

The gifts piled up and up and up. About 50 people attended, including two very special guests--my father's brother Uncle Barney and his wife, Aunt Georgette. Uncle Barney was just about the only male in attendance and he was the King of the party in my eyes.

We pulled most of the crew together for a photo (Jaime is missing because she took the picture--thank you, Jaime!):

Five generations together, counting baby girl Cadyn, the expected next generation.

Saturday night Jackie organized a fish fry with catfish, wings, french fries, red beans and rice, cole slaw and more. I was so busy visiting (and snoozing a while on the couch, I admit) that I forgot to take photos of the good food or the bonfire Derek put together. Even though the weather was drizzly, we stayed out by the fire for many hours. Larry and I headed home to bed several hours before most of the crowd gave it up.

Sunday morning was pancake breakfast at my house. Jennifer cooked while I put away air mattresses, blankets and pillows. We then said good bye to Jennifer and the girls, while Jackie and Larry headed to Derek's to clean up the cookout mess.

While they were gone we got a call from the Cow Run Contingent--daughter-in-law Jaime and her daughter Michaela, and friends Andrea, Amy and Odie. They stopped over for a visit and shared some good stories and laughter with us. Andrea and Amy gifted us with their singing of The Two Sisters. Absolutely beautiful to hear them and see them singing in front of the fireplace. A perfect setting.

We wrapped up the weekend with a trip to Pomeroy, Ohio for dinner at one of our favorite restaurants, the Wild Horse (situated right on the banks of the Ohio River) to celebrate Julie's birthday a day early.

After a leisurely meal and good conversation, Julie and I tried to take photos of the new bridge across the river and the barge that was passing by, but my shots are not very good. Still you can see a bit of the bridge...

and maybe a little more in this zoom shot. The old bridge, due to be removed, looks ghostlike behind the modern, blue-lighted new bridge.

The weekend had to end, sadly. Julie and I still have things we want to do--we read and sorted my parents' old letters and memorabilia, which brought back memories and raised more than one question. We need to finish that project. There are more places I want to visit with her, and so many more things to talk about. It's my turn to travel her direction next so that we can continue the complete pleasure that is being sisters.

Until then, there is the family reunion to look forward to in May, when all eight sisters will be together again.

There's Something Stinky in the Road

And it isn't a skunk!

After I snapped this pic of the vehicle leading a slow procession down US Rte 14 (with us in second place) towards Spencer, the driver turned around to stare. I guess he wondered why anyone would be taking a picture of a manure spreader.

I have so many responses to that! None of them polite enough to post here, unfortunately :-) He'd be even more surprised to learn that he's on the internet.

Just after we managed to pass him (and after I'd turned off the camera) we were passed by another spreader exactly like this one, traveling in the opposite direction. For a split second we wondered how in the world he'd managed to get ahead of us and going back in the opposite direction so quickly. A deja vu' moment.

The picture speaks to the kind of weather we're having that farmers are getting out in their fields to get some chores done.

Weekend Report: Possible Cousins, Elizabeth, Sanoma Rd, Friends and Family

An antique tractor rests beside the road outside Elizabeth, WV.

Saturday was an interesting day. Last week I received an email from a blog reader who wondered if she might be related to my husband. Her mother was a Holstein from Boone County, so it was possible. Larry's people, we learned last year, lived in two counties in two different states and two different countries--and they never moved off the same land. How could this be possible?

The Holsteins came to what is now West Virginia in the mid-1700's, when this state was still part of Virginia, and still belonged to the British Empire. Stephen Holstein fought in the Battle of Point Pleasant along with Daniel Boone, according to some accounts. Kanawha County was formed from Greenbrier and Montgomery counties (in 1788), and later part of the county, along with pieces of Logan and Cabell counties, was used to form Boone County. So there you are: two countries, two states, and two counties, and the same piece of land.

I was so intrigued by the email and subsequent telephone conversation with Connie Gaston that I offered to meet her to discuss things further. She was happy to do so, so we arranged to meet in Elizabeth, Wirt County, which was not too far for either of us to travel (Connie is living in Ritchie County now).

We started the day with our usual Saturday breakfast meeting with friends at the Downtowner. What a good way to start a weekend! I'm afraid we sort of take over the restaurant but it's a small place. And great food. Then we meandered off to Elizabeth. We decided to take a back route through Windy Ridge, a happy choice because the day was beautiful and the views were stunning. We arrived early in Elizabeth, so naturally I scouted for a junk shop. And found a great one! We came away with a box of oddments including a metronome, Fire King dishes, a chafing dish, and a book or two among other things for a grand total of $4.75. What a deal.


We met with Connie and her cousin Debbie (also of Holstein lineage) at Mom's Place, a little homey restaurant in downtown Elizabeth. I knew Connie was a Holstein right away--the curly blond hair and blue eyes along with a certain jawline were clear evidence. My husband also saw some familiar traits in Debbie.


So, are they related to Larry? It's difficult to tell. Both were raised out-of-state and their family members spoke little about the past or ancestors. Connie had made a trip to West Virginia when she was very young and remembers little about it. They had a few photos of their family's homeplace and a few of family members. Some names seemed to be familiar to all three of them, but there is no way to be sure there is any common ancestor without doing some research.

One thing is certain--those families all lived within a small geographical area, and I know of no place on earth with more Holsteins except for Wisconsin (and those are four-footed). Obviously, there must have been common ancestors for all these people who bear the same surname, however differently they spell it (Holstein, Holstien, Holsten, Holstine, Holstin, Holston, Holestine, Holestin, just to list a few of the variants we found in our research).


I wrote down the names Debbie and Connie recalled, and when time allows I'll be looking to see if perchance we've found some distant cousins, courtesy of this blog.


We decided to take the long way home. There is much beautiful country in Wirt County, a very rural place with rugged ridges and wide river valleys. After checking the map, we headed out Rte 5 so we could stop at Burning Springs, the site of one of the longest producing oil wells in West Virginia. The small museum has a bounty of antique equipment and information. No attendant was on hand although the door was open, but with no light or heat we didn't stay long.


Sanoma Road was a lovely surprise. Ridge views, an old cemetery, river bottoms and well-kept farms lined the road. We ended up in Spencer and browsed two of our favorite places there, a consignment store and an antiques mall, before driving home on Rte 33.

Washtubs outside an abandoned house on Sanoma Road have served their purpose and rust quietly into the earth. I wonder who used them, and what for--laundry? bathtime? or maybe in the garden, or during butchering. The location of the house was at the top of the ridge, where two roads intersected. A great place, and it seems odd that the place was left to rot away.

As we were eating a simple supper of raw veggies, leftover ham and rolls, and potato salad, the telephone rang. Friends were having a bonfire--did we want to come over? I never miss a bonfire as anyone who's read this blog for a while knows. We decided to make a quick trip to granddaughter Jordan's to drop off her Christmas gifts on the way to the fire.

We had a nice visit--what did I give Jordan? A cookbook, of course! And an old-time pastry blender because you just can't make good biscuits without one. And for the baby expected in May, a book and CD of nursery rhymes.


We made it to the bonfire around 8:30, and it was a good end to a fine day. The fire was warm, the conversation laid back and relaxed. Our son Derek and his girls came too. We talked and laughed until nearly midnight, when the beginnings of a rain shower told us it was time to head home.


A long, interesting, and varied day, just the kind I like!

Storyteller's Journey

I am singing:
Bright morning stars are rising
Day it is a-breakin’ in my soul
as the sun bursts orange-red on the horizon.

It is storytelling day
at a small school one hundred miles from home.
I practice a story as I drive and wonder
who the children will be.

The trip goes quickly;
I am trying not to notice the creeks, the horses,
abandoned houses and barns it takes time to see.


The school door
is difficult to find.
I’m in just in time to set up for the first class.
Fourth and fifth grades shuffle in.

I am telling.
Their eyes
welcome my stories.
We laugh together
about fish that walk,
fish that talk,
dogs that split in half.


They share folk wisdom:
Always squirt milk from a baby’s bottle
on your arm so that the baby won’t get burned;
put peppermint oil on your temples for a headache.


Our time is over,
regretfully I leave,
move to the next group:
tiny people so serious
about kindergarten
and first grade status.

I share the stage,
giving them parts
in some stories,
voice in others.
They chant and repeat
just as I tell them to do.

We sing about skunks,
scold the raccoon and run from the bear.
We taunt a hunter, sing a silly song
faster and faster.


They leave for lunch.
I wander outside, snapping photos
of water over rocks and bark
over the hard muscle
of an ironwood tree.

One last group,
second and third grade,
full of lunch and energy.
They remember some of the stories
from my last visit, three years ago.

I am leaving;
I pack my car and drive away





but on the return trip I take my time:
snap photos of the old concrete bridge
over Hog Run,










the ferry at Sistersville,
Little Sister oil well,
an abandoned sternwheel.

I notice road names
now that I am not in a hurry
Cowhouse Run Windy Ridge Honey Run Anthem Road.
I sing them out loud as each twists quaintly out of view.





I am seeing
the abandoned houses,
an old bus depot,
barns with sheep
and horses rolling
in field just faintly green.
Beside diamond creeks
the road runs south
to Wileyville, Paden City,
Knob Fork, Sistersville, Bens Run, Friendly,
Long Reach, Grape Island, and finally home.




I am thinking
about stories
given to children
I may not see again; I search for faces in my mind,
seeking to discover
where the childish hearts touched mine
and mine theirs,
what words
found a way
into the memories
of country children in a small country school.

Such things a storyteller never knows with certainty;
the day will fade, covered by other faces, words, and roads.
I will find new stories and tell them to other children,
in small country schools and city parks,

while in Long Drain, West Virginia
perhaps one child will sit beside a parent and say,
“Let me tell you a story” and my words
will sound again in a bright new voice.

I will be singing.

Ghost Stories on the River

What a night for stories. Picture a setting on the banks of the mighty Ohio, huge trees overshadowing the pavilion, lights from the town on the other side blinking in the water. Kids in costumes straggle in with a few adults. It's spookily dim as we begin our tales.

The event was the brainchild of Donna Wilson, a storyteller who has a gift for knowing what will make a successful event. This one was low-key; she provide decorations, a mike and her stories, and I provided my stories.

This was the best performance I have seen from Donna. I've told with her several times now, and keep seeing improvement. One of the best ways to get better as a teller is to tell. And tell. And tell. Another way is to listen to and watch other tellers. and the third important ingredient is watching the audience and being able to read their reactions. Donna's ghost stories were perfect for the group we had tonight, and my tales went very well too.

On the drive home I thought about performance--driving 40 miles through quiet country and a few towns to get there, meeting people and just telling stories to them, then driving dark roads home. What makes me do this, over and over?

What I come to is this: it's the audience. Seeing their eyes, their delight, the memories I trigger. Tonight as I was telling Tailypo a young girl's eyes lit with pleasure, and when I got to the signature chant (Tailypo, tailypo, coming to get my tailypo) she know it and chimed right in! After the first time, I gave the mike to her for the repeated chants. That shared joy in the story is something I can't place a value on, and yet for all of us tonight the little girl's joy increased our enjoyment in a three dimensional way. Not only was I telling and they listening--now one of their own was participating and deepening the experience for us all.

West Virginia Ghost Stories and Storytelling

In our state, stories and storytelling have been a part of our culture since the earliest pioneers crossed the Allegheny mountains. People told stories to while away the time during long winter evenings, or on the porch on hot summer days. Stories were a way to pass on family history, traditions, stories from the “old country,” and to teach children the accepted rules of behavior.

Of all the stories told in our state, the most prevalent is the ghost story. I sometimes think that every ridge and holler in our state has its own ghost. The reasons for the abundance of ghost stories are several. The simplest explanation might be that the mist rising from the hills at night can create a ghostly aspect that might make a person think of otherworldly beings. Some folklorists speculate that the settlers of West Virginia brought with them the stories and lore of their native countries. English, Irish and Scottish folklore is filled with supernatural stories and ballads. Some of these stories were transplanted with the people who told them with new twists introduced in their new land.

Religion might have also played a role. Many settlers believed firmly in the flight of the soul after death, and it wasn’t too much of a stretch to believe that some souls lost their way on this final journey and were trapped here on earth. Usually these lost souls had a specific reason for staying: revenge, relaying a warning to loved ones, or some other unfinished business.

Some ghost stories were cautionary tales, meant to discourage children from dangerous activities. The legends of Booger Hole in Clay County fall into this category, telling of terrible things that were believed to have occurred around a certain muddy portion of a road on Twistabout Ridge. In my county, there is a story of a headless dog that supposedly haunts Tug Fork after dark and chases people. Children in that area might think twice about going out after dark if there is a chance of encountering that dog!

Ghost stories are different than horror stories. Ghost stories tend to be stories with supernatural occurrences, rarely include violent acts committed by the spirit, and are usually fairly short. They are generally more haunting than scary, leaving the listener wondering what might have really happened, if the person really saw what they claimed, or why the ghost chose that place or time to appear. The haunting, unexplained nature of ghost stories probably explains their continued popularity. There is mystery in ghost stories that engages the imagination.

Many ghost stories have been collected and published in books; still others are still being passed down from parent to child. Below is a list of a few collections of West Virginia ghost stories.

People use a variety of words to refer to ghosts. Some used in West Virginia are: Haint, Booger, Revenant, Spook, Shade, Spirit, Apparition

West Virginia Ghost Stories Booklist
This list is not all-inclusive, but includes some of the most popular and easily found collections of West Virginia ghost stories. Many stories are included in old county history books, back issues of the West Virginia Folklore Journal (no longer in publication), Goldenseal magazine, and many local sources.


Author: Musick, Ruth Ann.
Ruth Ann Musick is undoubtedly the First Lady of West Virginia ghost stories and ghost story collecting. While teaching at Fairmont State College, Musick collected stories from her students over a number of years. She also did research and found many stories herself.

Ballads, Folk Songs & Folk Tales from West Virginia. Includes some very strange ghost stories.Morgantown, West Virginia University Library, 1960. Out of Print, but available through libraries.

Green Hills of Magic : West Virginia Folktales from Europe. A variety of stories that includes ghost stories.Publication info: Parsons, WV : McClain Printing Co., 1989.

Coffin Hollow, and Other Ghost Tales
University Press of Kentucky, c1977.

The Telltale Lilac Bush, and Other West Virginia Ghost Tales.University of Kentucky Press,1965

Author: Deitz, Dennis
The Greenbrier Ghost and Other Strange Stories. West Virginia’s most famous ghost story is told from several perspectives in this collection.
Mountain Memories Books, 1990

Author: Roberts, Nancy.
Appalachian Ghosts. Includes several stories from West Virginia, including one about John Henry.

Author: Jones, James G.
Appalachian Ghost Stories and Other Tales. Also wrote “More Appalachian Folk Stories.
McClain Printing Co, Parsons, WV. 1997

Author: Holstein, Susanna “Granny Sue”
Granny’s Ghost Stories. Includes historical, family and original ghost stories. Available from me!

Author: Shepard, Susan.
Cry of the Banshee. A collection of stories by Parkersburg’s resident ghost hunter.

Weekend: Archives and Holstein Family History

(It was an interesting Saturday. I'll tell about it in three posts. This is the first.)

I had another clear weekend, no storytelling on the schedule, and we were looking for fun. We have a long list of things we want to do and places we want to go, but first we looked to see if there were any festivals in West Virginia within a 3-hour drive. Only one--Sutton's Fall Festival.

We considered a trip to Parkersburg to visit Trans-Allegheny Books. It's supposed to be a great used book store, housed in an old Carnegie library building. I have yet to make a visit. We could go there and then travel up to St. Mary's to Chester Bill's antique/junk emporium. That place can suck you in for hours.

Or, we could go to Charleston to the state archives and start researching Larry's family, then mosey up to Sutton to the festival. That was the trip we decided to take--both of us are curious as to when his family arrived in America and how they got to West Virginia's coal mines. I've learned a lot about my family, but Larry knew little about his.

So, after breakfast at our favorite Saturday morning place, the Downtowner in Ripley, we headed south. I was struck by the statue of the miner near the entrance to the state's cultural center.

The lady at the archives was helpful. We knew his grandfather's name (John Amos Holstein) and his grandmother (Virgie Lawrence Holstein) so we figured we had it made.

Wrong. There was no listing anywhere for either of them. Well, then, we tried his father. How many men with the name "Ray Holstein" can there be, who were born on Kayford Mountain around 1919-1922? Turns out, none--at least, none that were listed in the state archive records we searched.

How can this be? we asked our guide. The answer is stunning and simple. They weren't born in hospitals, didn't own property. Kayford Mountain straddles three counties, so his father could have been born in any one of them. People didn't bother to register things at the courthouse when it was a long and difficult journey, might increase taxes or government snooping, and they might have to miss work in the bargain.

"Let's prove you exist," the lady said. Good idea. At this point Larry wasn't sure! We found his birth record easily enough because he was born in a hospital. His father's and mother's information was full of errors, including misspelled name, wrong age and wrong place of birth. Great. That sure will help our search in the future.

We left, discouraged, but realizing two things: we needed to get to the graveyards, write down dates of deaths and births, then go to the state vital statistics department to get records of at least these events. We also knew that we needed to record, right now, as much as Larry can recall about his grandparents, their siblings and children because there is apparently no record yet in existence that links this family together. Unless there is some erstwhile genealogist out there who has already done this, and the chances of that are slim.

Larry had some records, and we spent a lot of time Sunday trying to find them with no luck. They're put up, and you know what that means! All we have now are a few photos and his father's coal-mining certificate. When we find the rest--his parents' marriage license, an affidavit of his father's birth (needed to qualify for Social Security), and a few other things--we might have more pieces of the puzzle.

Yesterday we got on the computer and listed everyone he could remember, and tentative dates of birth and death. It's a start. I think the journey is going to be a long one.

Haley's Poem

Off You Go

I saw you walk to the plane.

I wait while the plane fires up.

I feel tears fill my eyes.

I watch the plane take off.

And I remember you are in it.

I look at the people around me.

And all I see is people crying.