Saturday, October 26, 2019

WV and Western PA

How wonderful it was, after three and a half years, to return to WV and PA! It had been too long! I know it's funny that a southern gal like me should be so endeared to western Pennsylvania, but I feel such a connection to that place and its wonderful people. The best of everything is there: relatives on both sides of our family, genealogy and old cemeteries, and of course, Penguins hockey! We decided to make the drive and spend a long weekend visiting family, going to a game, and visiting the quiet little nearby towns where our Burtnett predecessors lived.

When I was a kid, we'd take this route through Virginia, passing Wytheville and Bland, going through the tunnel into WV, then around to Charleston, and on to Ashland, KY, where my grandparents had moved after my dad graduated high school. Now, my family takes a similar route, up through Johnson City, TN, through Virginia for about an hour, but once we get into WV, we drive from Bluefield at the bottom all the way to Morgantown at the top. I've always been crazy about my dad's home state of WV, and I lament not getting to pass through Charleston anymore. 

One thing I do get to experience is "Big Walker" in Virginia. My children get the same thrill I used to have in traveling through the tunnels cut through the mountains. Actually, it still is a thrill! It's not every day I get to pass straight through a mountain: 

If you are ever this way, it's worth a stop at the New River Bridge. I confess we didn't go to the actual bridge this time, as it was raw and wet that day, but we did stop at the visitors' center. It's nice to gaze down at the New River and behold God's glory. Next time, we want to go rafting. 

I like the West Virginia University Mountaineers because my grandfather, Jack "PeepEye" Burtnett, did. He was notorious for throwing his hat down and yelling at the tv when his team performed poorly. Like any serious football fan, he got especially emotional when attending the games. When we make this trip, we like to stop in Morgantown and drive/walk around. Unfortunately, the campus isn't easy to navigate, and the streets are very hilly. High Street, where  PeepEye lived, is downright frightening. I don't know how anyone moves a bed or sofa into the places up there; riding in a car is hard enough! My girls know High Street in Morgantown well, the "scary" street. 

The photos might not do the steepness justice, but I took these as fast as I could, because it was hard for my husband to come to a complete stop! In the top photo, the big brown building on the left is 692 High St., where my grandfather lived. It was once the Sigma Chi house, but is now the TKE house. Morgantown is about 90 minutes from Pittsburgh.

There is nothing like going through the Fort Pitt Tunnel and emerging into the splendor of Pittsburgh! I can't believe some people get to do that every day. We take for granted what's everyday for us. Friends who have visited us in western NC tell me they can't believe we get to see its mountains every day, and I remind myself often of this. Our country is full of fantastic places!

Pittsburgh as seen through the car window!


There's nothing like Penguins hockey in Pittsburgh!

I love seeing this sign: 
About ninety minutes from Pittsburgh, Summerhill is where my great-grandfather, Harry ("Pop") Burtnett, grew up. It's near Johnstown. When I study old census records for members of the Burtnett family, I find other tiny towns named Portage, Wilmore, South Fork, Croyle Township, and Beaverdale. All these little places run together in a remote, still, cozy area. Within the serenity of these hamlets lies the cemeteries where my ancestors are buried.

You may recall my fascination with Uncle Chester Burtnett. His story on this blog is worth a look back to 2016 when I first visited his grave at Mt. Olive Cemetery. This time, we stopped in Blairsville on our way and picked up some flowers for him: 
I wish his grave weren't so worn, but it gave me great pleasure to spend time there again. Uncle Chester was Harry Burtnett's brother who died tragically in 1906 at only age 22. His grave deserves to be visited and cared for. Unfortunately, this cemetery seems to be in a wind tunnel, and it's not easy to linger for long. The views, however, are breathtaking. Here is how the stone looks when I look at it from farther away:
And here is the view from the other side of the stone. I could gaze at this scene all day: 
Other nearby views: 


This is Summerhill, and you can see why I love it. It's not hard for me to picture what it looked like in "Pop"'s day, because it seems to remain much unchanged. I hope it stays that way.

Pop and Chester (and their many siblings) had a grandfather named Peter Burtnett. I had also been to his gravesite at Mt. Union Cemetery, also in Summerhill. We returned and also took flowers: 
This stone has been here since 1904. The poor man died on his birthday! He was born in 1822. The stone lies flat, and we're not sure if it once stood straight. The part that appears blank once boasted an intricate design that has worn off with the years, but we can see and feel faint lines, like part of a drawing. They can be slightly detected in this photo. Evidently there was once a church by this cemetery, Mt. Union Evangelical Church. Peter Burtnett was a "trustee" in his church, now a Methodist church in another location. 

Peter's son, W.K. Burtnett, was my great-great grandfather; he was Pop and Chester's (and the others') father. W.K. had a sister, Martha, who married Amos Plummer. Many years ago, I found a photo of Amos and Martha's family:
There is a post-it note on it (not pictured here) with reference to "Uncle Amos." I marveled at that magnificent barn, then something caught my eye. Do you see it? It seems to be painted on the side of the barn, possibly for the occasion of posing for this grand photo: "Amos Plummer, Nov. 25, 1896." When I noticed it, I couldn't believe my eyes! It was as if this family reached through time and handed me significant details: not only the date, but who this "Uncle Amos" was!

About eighteen years ago, I found someone on the Internet who was also related to Amos and Martha (Burtnett) Plummer. Amos's name appears abundantly in census and town records, and I discussed him online with another descendant. I believe I copied the photo and sent it to this relative, who in turn sent me a copy of one:
Imagine my opening that envelope that came through snail mail and finding this image of the same Amos and Martha, and seeing the young folks from the photo with the barn a little more grown up. How extraordinary! The back of this photo reads: "Amos and Martha Plummer Family. Left to right--standing: Orvil Plummer, Homer Plummer, Ona Plummer Curry, Lloyd Alpheus Plummer, Irving Plummer. Seated: Amos and Martha Plummer."

Amos and Martha's remains rest at Prospect Cemetery in Portage, only a few minutes from Summerhill.
I believe the "E" after Martha stands for Elizabeth. I couldn't resist the view from behind these stones: 
It's funny when people ask us why we like western PA, and we say for the hockey, family, and cemeteries! Can you see why? Prospect Cemetery is huge; full of interesting stones. The caretaker who was there said it takes him nine hours to cut the grass! I can't leave Prospect without showing you one more stone: 
I was touched by this sweet marker, crudely made for a lost little one by someone who loved him. Perhaps his father or grandfather lovingly shaped that stone, and personally carved in those words through tears of grief. God knows the details, and He loved young G.D. Smith and his family. What this person lacked in money to purchase a grand stone, he made up for in a touching tribute that withstood the elements to bring joy to our hearts when we saw it. 

Our last cemetery visit was to South Fork in Croyle Twp. Our reason for visiting was to see the Burtnett plot there, although I'm not sure how these folks fit into our family line:



These photos of South Fork depict the essence of these charming little towns:

What a blessing to visit this part of the country again! I love genealogy and family research, finding connections with other descendants. There's something thrilling about spending time searching to uncover tiny details, like a detective, rejoicing over the tiniest clue. Knowing our ancestors helps us to be known. I'm not always happy with information I uncover, but people have always been messy, and history is important. God writes each story; Christ is our "Author and Perfecter" (Hebrews 12). Each life matters; every cemetery stone represents a soul. 

Until next time, western PA! 
(Pittsburgh at dawn)












Thursday, July 11, 2019

Susan Luers Burtnett Bablove


Last week, John Burtnett III of Spartanburg talked to his sister, Susan. He had been in the hospital for six weeks, recovering from an unexpected surgery. Also unexpected was Susan's news that she was feeling beaten down during a new round of chemo. 

For eighteen years, Susan had valiantly fought the cancer beast. She battled those years with strength and optimism, enjoying time with her daughter Laura, son-in-law Alex, grandson Braeden, and fiance Greg. She loved the fresh start of California on which she'd embarked in the early 2000's, while keeping in touch with dear friends back in Nashville. 

My dad was worried when he talked to his sister last week. Somehow this time seemed different. God had always allowed Aunt Susan to bounce back, but this time, He had another plan. She was under hospice care in a matter of days. On Tuesday, Laura said it wouldn't be long.

I sought the interceding prayers of every Christ-follower I could think of. Yesterday morning, Laura and I spoke for almost an hour. Aunt Susan had slipped into eternity a little after midnight, California time. It's hard to believe she's gone.

Although the miles kept us apart, Aunt Susan was always there, ever affirming, ever kind. Her blue eyes sparkled under long Burtnett lashes. My girls and I looked forward to the goodies she sent at Christmas; not for the stuff, but because the packages were so "Aunt Susan." She used to take the covers off of old, beautiful cards and trim them in ribbon as package adornments. In the tradition of her mother, she would address certain items "From Our House to Your House." And then she started sending edible treats with cute boxes from Harry & David. Sometimes joy is just in what can be counted on. I'm going to miss that this Christmas.

Her family and friends have been left with a Susan-shaped void. I thank God for her life. He created her uniquely in His image, and He loved her. So did those in her life: Laura, Greg, Alex, Braeden, John and Marilyn, Harriet, Jessica, Jeremy and me and our girls, Nancy Jo, and those who went before her: her parents, grandparents, and other relatives. I couldn't possibly include all her friends, former co-workers, the "Bunco gals" she talked about, people from her church, extended family, and all others touched by her life. Thank you for loving her, and may Christ's love comfort you in your grief. 


I've always thought this photo of baby Susan and big brother Johnny was hilarious! She would refer to him as "Big Brother" even in adulthood. 

Susan with her maternal grandmother, Mary Hannah Nordsiek, whom she called "Buh."

Sweet baby Susan

Can't say I blame her for looking skeptical about that Santa!

Johnny and Susan with their dad, Jack Burtnett, and dog, "Burt."
David, KY, 1955

Easter 1957

Cutie pie!

Susan with her family: Grandfather Harry Burtnett, Johnny, Grandmother Nellie McIlhany Burtnett, mother Mary Nordsiek Burtnett, and father John Harrison Burtnett, Jr.
A performer all her life! 1959

With her parents, brother, and grandfather, Harry Burtnett, 1973
Beautiful Susan

John Burtnett III, my mom Olga holding baby Janet, Aunt Nancy Burtnett, Susan, Harry Burtnett

Susan and Laura having fun at Opryland, 1988
Susan, Johnny, Laura, Janet
Opryland, 1988
Christmas 1997, Nashville
Janet, John, Laura, Susan
Spartanburg, SC, 1999
Janet, Susan, Laura, 2000
John and Susan, 2001
Greg and Susan, Hendersonville, NC, 2017
Janet, John, Susan, Greg
Laura, Susan, Janet in our final visit together,
Spartanburg, SC, Sept. 2018
Susan and Big Brother, Spartanburg, Sept. 2018

Susan Luers Burtnett BabloveMarch 29, 1952-July 10, 2019
Your family loves and misses you.

Friday, September 22, 2017

Dr. & Mrs. John William McIlhany of Warrenton

From Fredericksburg, Virginia, we stopped by the quaint town of Warrenton. My third great-grandmother, Margaret Bispham Skinker (known as Madge), was brought up here, in the county of Fauquier. Her father, James Keith Skinker, owned an estate there called Huntley.

Madge married Dr. John William McIlhany at Huntley in February of 1861. He was born at "Milton Hall" on July 25, 1835, in Loudoun County, VA. He studied engineering at the Episcopal High School in Alexandria, and received the title of M.D. in 1860 at Richmond School of Medicine in Philadelphia. Dr. McIlhany served during the Civil War as a private in Mosby's Company D (a "Partisan Ranger") and later as a surgeon under Lt. General James Longstreet. His second child, John Milton McIlhany, is my great-great grandfather.


Thomas Keith Skinker, author of Samuel Skinker and His Descendants, includes a sentimental letter written by Dr. McIlhany to Madge from the field infirmary, Anderson's Division Artillery Battalion, on May 4, 1863. (See my last post, Fredericksburg, for parts of this letter referring to Capt. James Keith Boswell). Here are some indicators of who Dr. McIlhany was:


"Oh Madgie, no one can imagine my anxiety about you all, and how crazy I am to see you and our darling little pet, [their daughter, Rose] a sad heart I have. I really don't believe that I can stand it much longer. If it was not that I think I would be laughed at and ridiculed by every body, I would most undoubtedly go directly home; this awful war causes much trouble....I will write you every time I have an opportunity. Do I beg of you write to me often--Madgie remember how lonely I am way off here...Kiss the dear little pet many times for me; don't let her forget her papa. You don't know the pleasure it would give me to hear your sweet and familiar voice today....Madgie my dear Child, try and be in good spirits...Give quantities of love to all and accept more for your dear self--kiss little Rose many times...Do write soon, my lovely wife.
                                          Your ever devoted husband,
                                          J.W. McIlhany"


Dr. John William McIlhany (1835-1891)

Our first stop in Warrenton was, of course, the Warrenton Cemetery!

It was a privilege to pay my respects to my ancestor-grandparents: 
These are actually the same grave marker. Madge's name is on one side; John's is on the other. It lies very close to the resting place of Col. Mosby.



This cemetery is also delightfully full of Skinker relatives!


Hugh Garland Skinker would've been a cousin. He was a farmer, contractor, and cattle trader.

Julian Hampson Skinker was Garland's son. He studied law at George Washington University and was a Kappa Alpha. He served in WWI and later lived in Dallas, TX.
Julian & Evelyn Skinker

James Keith Skinker and Elizabeth Eyre Chambers were the parents of Madge Bispham Skinker McIlhany. They are my 4th great-grandparents.


Another Skinker buried here is William Keith, Madge's brother:


He was a private in the Black Horse cavalry, Company H, under Capt. William Payne, but mostly under J.E.B. Stuart. He fought in many battles, including First Manassas and Williamsburg. There is a great account of him in Skinker's book, including this tragic excerpt: "Survivor of many battles, William K. Skinker was killed May 27, 1918, on the Pignut Mountain side, less than half a mile from his own home, in a fall from his buggy. It is believed he died of heart failure. He was alone at the time." 
Private William Keith Skinker

Warrenton, VA is a wonderful little town full of history. We enjoyed a walk down its Main Street after our cemetery visit, and dined downtown. Because it was Sunday, many shops were closed; we look forward to returning when we can stay longer. 

It is an honor to be a descendant of the Skinker, McIlhany, Keith, and Bispham families. I felt like I belonged in Warrenton!