Alabama Ancestry Hunt

            We had a couple of days off at the end of this week, and had not made specific plans on how to use them.  I’d been wanting to dig through the records in some northeastern Alabama courthouses to further my genealogy research and figured that this was as good a time as any.  Joel graciously agreed to be my chauffer.  We headed out Wednesday afternoon, hitting the road a little later than we’d intended, bound for Guntersville, Alabama (Marshall County) and Ashville, Alabama (St. Clair County).  Time permitting, I also wanted to stop in Russellville, Alabama (Franklin County), though my expectations of finding any new information there were slim to none.

            Because we’d gotten started late, we decided to stop in Cullman, Alabama instead of driving on to Guntersville that night.  In my humble opinion, the area around Guntersville is one of the most beautiful places in the world – not too flat, and not too hilly.  The town sits on a finger of land on the south end of Guntersville Lake.  The town square, the old part of the town, sits almost at the very tip of the finger, with the courthouse in the middle.  Joel did a walking tour of the square while I dug through old deed books.  I was still digging when he got back to the courthouse.  He helped me look through indexes, but we struck out; we did not find the document we were hunting.  Frustrated, we left empty-handed, and drove down to Ashville.

             St. Clair County is “where the action was” as far as my father’s family is concerned.  Census records show that Daddy’s ancestors lived there in the very early 1800s and long after the Civil War.  My previous research had unearthed some skeletons in this family, and I wanted to find out more about what made them tick.  We arrived at the St. Clair County Archives building at 12:30, only to find that it closed every day from noon until 1 p.m.  We walked around the square, hoping to find some lunch while we waited for the Archives to open, but there weren’t any restaurants on the square.  We hopped in the truck and drove a couple of miles out of town, where we’d seen a Mexican restaurant.  We were back at the Archives by 1:15 or so.  Although I did not discover any new information, I did find documentation to back up what I’d already learned.  We stayed there until nearly 5 p.m., then pointed ourselves toward Russellville, which is on the west side of Alabama, adjacent to the Mississippi state line.

             On the way to Russellville, I had a change of heart about stopping there.  The Franklin County courthouse has burned twice, once during the Civil War, and again in the 1890s.  The records I needed were pre-Civil War.  I’d already talked to the director of the county archives and knew that no documentation from that period had survived the fires, but there might be newspaper records, other people’s genealogies, etc., that might shed some light on the mystery of my mother’s ancestry.  I wavered back and forth in the decision whether to go to Russellville or not until we reached the junction that would either take us to Russellville or take us home.  Though he had not complained, Joel probably had enough of patiently waiting while I scoured through old record books.  Besides that, he had mentioned wanting to take the grandchildren camping this weekend, once we got back.  Not wanting to cut into the camping trip time, I said, “Let’s just go home.” 

            By this time, it was dark, and we were tired and hungry.  The closest town of any size was Muscle Shoals, 30 minutes ahead.  We decided to stop there for the night.  Now, I must confess that I am a cheapskate when it comes to motel rooms.  I don’t care about “fancy”; I just want “clean.”  As we were driving, I pulled up a list of Muscle Shoals motels on my cell phone and picked one at the cheap end of the spectrum.  We found it easily.  It did not look derelict or run-down.  “Works for me,” I told Joel.  He parked the truck and went in to register us for a room.

            When he came out with the key-card, we gathered our stuff from the truck and hauled it to the door.  The window curtain was open just a tad.  We could see that the television was on inside our room.  We exchanged a glance and did a simultaneous, “Hmmmm….”   I went ahead and used the key-card, hoping not to find somebody lying on the bed, watching tv…or worse. 

            The room was clean and smelled okay.  I checked the bathroom; the fixtures were clean, the towels were fresh, the little soaps and shampoos had been replenished, the bed didn’t have any “body imprints” on it, the sheets were clean.  We decided to stay.  While Joel went to the bathroom, I looked for the remote control to turn off the tv, but couldn’t find one – not on the dresser, or in the drawers, or in the nightstand, or between the cushions of the little love seat.  When Joel came out of the bathroom, I went in after telling him I couldn’t find the remote.  When I came out, he was on his hands and knees, looking under the bed.  “Did you find it?” I asked.  “No, but I found a flashlight,” he said, holding up the trophy, “and some little brown things.”

            “Little brown things?  What are they?”

            “Not sure,” he said.  “But they’re not moving, or anything.”  He didn’t seem concerned.

            We stopped by the front desk on the way to dinner to ask about the remote control.  The clerk had it.  Joel didn’t mention the brown things under the bed.

            We ate at a bbq joint called “Rick’s,” just down the road from the motel.  Joel had a pulled pork sandwich.  I had ribs.  They were pretty awesome.  Judges at a bbq cooking contest and television chefs will tell you that a perfectly-cooked rib should be tender, but firm enough to leave a distinct, semi-circular bite mark.  I say this is nonsense.  I want my ribs falling-off-the-bone tender.  Rick’s were that tender.  They weren’t heavily sauced or dry-rubbed, just smoked on the grill.  I hit them with sauce from bottles on the table.  Not bad at all.  Thumbs up, Rick.

            As we ate, I asked Joel about the “brown things” under the bed.  “What kind of brown things, exactly?”

            He chewed and pondered the question for a second or two.  “Dog food,” he said.  “Like little dog treats.”  He made a wee shape with his thumb and forefinger.

            I chewed and pondered the answer for a second or two.  I could envision somebody coming in with a yappy little dog and giving him treats to keep him quiet.  I could envision him hiding his treats under the bed.  I could envision a housekeeper coming in and vacuuming, changing the linens, cleaning the toilet and tub, doing a pretty thorough cleaning job without ever encountering the treasures stashed under the bed.  Okay, so maybe the presence of the dog treats didn’t necessarily equate with a nasty room.  Still, we double-checked the sheets before we settled in for the night.

            We were back on the road by 10 a.m., and pulled in our driveway about 1 p.m.  After three days of driving, we’d logged close to 800 miles on the odometer.  Joel had had enough driving and was out of the mood to immediately hit the road again for a camping trip.  To be honest, I was kind of glad.  The weather has turned off cool, and nothing sounded better to me than staying inside with a big pot of spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove.  And that's just what we did.

 

           It's good to be home.

 

Pickwick Camping - Oct. 11-14, 2013

We're just back from our first camping trip in our new camper.  We went to Pickwick Landing State Park for a long weekend.  Except for short road trips to sight-see in the nearby towns, we did absolutely nothing.  It was great.

Pickwick is only 120 miles or so from our home, but we'd never been there, and we didn't want to venture too far away since we'd never towed the camper except the day we brought it home from the dealership.  It's a good bit longer, taller, and heavier than our old TrailManor camper.  A two-hour drive was the perfect distance for the new camper's maiden voyage.

The TrailManor was sort of a pop-up camper, except that the pop-up sections were surrounded by metal/fiberglass instead of canvas/screens.  It was a good old camper, and we've hauled it all over the southeastern States, but there were a few things about it that we did not like.  Joel did not like the beds, which were located in the pop-up sections and were waist-high from the floor.  The larger bed was abutted on one end by a closet, and on the other end by a bathroom, leaving a narrow hallway space from which to access the bed.  Putting sheets on the bed in those tight quarters was a pain.  And since the length of the bed was perpendicular to the hallway, the sleeper on the inside of the bed had to first crawl over the sleeper on the outside of the bed, aim for the narrow hallway, then turn around and back out into the hallway while feeling for the floor (which was a l-o-n-g way down) with one foot.  Joel said we're getting too old to risk crushed kidneys and broken legs trying to get out of this bed in the dark.  I did not particularly mind this set-up, but then I always slept on the outside edge of the bed and didn't have to crawl over anybody to get out.

What I hated about the TrailManor was the "recirculating" toilet.  We bought this camper used (dragged it home all the way from Austin, Texas), and if the seller mentioned that the toilet was a recirculating toilet, I either missed it or did not realize was a recirculating toilet was.  What it is, is nasty.  I guess it's perfect for deep woods camping where there is no continuous water supply, but the fact that it conserves water by recirculating it means that after the first whizz or two, the water begins to get stinky.  After a #2, the water turns brown and emits exactly the smell you'd expect from #2 brown water.  During our first trip in that camper, we began limiting toilet use to middle-of-the-night awakenings to avoid hikes to park bathhouses in the dark.  But on our last camping trip, as I was coming back from the bathhouse in a cold, early morning drizzle, I said to myself, "I have a camper with a bathroom in it.  What is wrong with this picture?"

So we started thinking about a new camper, one better suited to old age and potty convenience.  Joel's bed requirement - a bed that was accessible from three sides - pretty much eliminated pop-up style campers.  My must-have list included a regular toilet, but I also wanted a camper that was comfortable on the inside.  We typically do not spend much time inside our campers - after all, what's the point of going camping if you're going to spend all of your time indoors? - but at night, when the weather is bad or the mosquitoes are ferocious, it's nice to come inside, shower off the campfire smell, and relax with a book before bed.  The TrailManor had two couches, both of which were as hard and narrow as old-time church pews.  I wanted a soft sofa, and a couple of comfy chairs.

Joel did a lot of internet surfing, shopping for the right camper.  When we went to Eureka Springs a few months ago, we did a day trip to a camper store and toured a few models.  The camper that Joel wanted was about 24 feet long, had bunk beds at one end, and a love seat that was jammed up against a half-wall that separated the "bedroom" from the rest of the camper.  I could imagine climbing out of bed and flipping head-first over that half-wall trying to get to the bathroom in the dark.  Standing in front of the bunk beds, I imagined trying to get sheets on the mattresses in the bunk recesses.  It didn't look easy.

The camper I liked best was 27 feet long, with a slide-out section, a nice bathroom, two comfy chairs, and a comfy sofa.  Joel said this camper was just too big, that he wouldn't feel comfortable towing something that long. 

Joel kept surfing, and kept forwarding me pictures of smaller campers.  I couldn't imagine being comfortable in them.  Finally, one night I said, "You know, considering that we only go camping once or twice a year these days, and considering that the TrailManor is paid for, we should just deal with the bed and the toilet, and just keep it."

Pretty soon, Joel started forwarding pictures of bigger, nicer campers.  ;)

This is the one we got.  Note:  two comfy chairs and a comfy sofa; a nice kitchen with stainless steel appliances and lots of counter space and storage space; behind the photographer in this picture is a nice bathroom (with a non-recirculating toilet!) and a bedroom with real walls and a bed that is accessible from three sides.  On the outside, the legs, the tongue-jack, and the awning are all motorized;  no more cranking and jacking and cussing;  just push buttons, and everything goes up/down/in/out.  Just right for two creaky old people like us.  :)

Thinking that it might rain during this trip, I took my sewing machine and had plenty space to work in when we came inside for the night, while Joel lounged on the comfy furniture, surfing with his i-Pad.  As our younger son said when we bought our first air-conditioned pop-up after years of hot tents and sleeping bags, "Now, THIS is camping!"  ;)