Growing Up In The Deep South
I cannot think of any place in the world that I would rather have grown up in than coastal Georgia! It was beautiful, peaceful, and had so many fun things to do in and around the water. We had beaches, rivers, creeks, and ponds. We swam, fished, crabbed and had boats to explore the many islands just off the coast—finding odd driftwood “sculptures”, rocks, seashells, and other treasures.
I can close my eyes and imagine I’m smelling all the old familiar smells– the acres and miles of salt marshes, the fishy mud smell at low tide, the salty air; and hear the heavy rains and violent thunder storms. Our river cottage had a tin roof, and the rain sounded especially loud, making the little cottage seem cozy and comfortable. Thunder storms at the river were very scary, the thunder booming out almost simultaneously with the lightening meaning it had hit very close. Someone told me that rubber was a good insulator, so during a storm at the river, I would fetch my rubber tire inner-tube from the back porch ( we all had one for floating & paddling around in the river) and sit on it while reading or listening to the radio.
TV had not yet been invented yet.
We lived in a rural area, about 5 miles inland from the river, and my first school experience was in a one-room school. There was no place for the teacher to rent, so she boarded with us. I’m told she loved me from the very first, and although I was only 4-1/2 to 5 years old she insisted that I was so smart I should go to school, and I loved it.
I learned to read and thereafter could never get enough reading material. (A few of the things I found I’m sure I shouldn’t have been reading!)
When I was a little older, I found my “reading tree”–a huge old oak tree with large swooping limbs, one of which swooped down about a foot and a half from the ground and then cupped back up making a comfortable “chair” that just fit my body. I would take my books there and read for hours, pausing now and then to listen to bird songs and watch the squirrels play.
Little has been said about Natalie’s family. She was born at home assisted by a Dr. that enjoyed his booze. No record or report was recorded.
Her father was a southern farmer born into a family that dated back 200 years. His ancestors were Scotch-Irish. They came to America in the early 1700’s to Williamsburg, Charleston, and Georgetown.
The early history of these people gives a very vivid picture of the determination, grit, and guts of these early settlers. I will attempt to give the reader some understanding of the hardships of a family that settled in British Colonial America 350 years ago.
These people came from a civilized society; carriages pulled by one or more horses, taverns to spend the night with food. Maps were available. See the ancient “Carte de la Caroline et Georgia”. Just south of the Alatahama River was Spanish territory. Darian is where we lived for 5 years after we retired.
Now back to David Fulton Natalie’s g,g,g,g,g,g,grandfather. He arrived in America about 1725 with, we think, John Crawford, a Scotish Highlander and they engaged a Brown’s Ferry Vessel to transport them up the Black River. To be continued…
Lisa here – As granddaughter, the coolest news from Baba’s ancestry studies was his discovery that we were actually Highlanders from Scotland!
Yeah we sound ferocious, right?
Has anyone ever tracker your family ancestry back to a historical figure or group that made you puff out your chest and strut around? We’d love to hear!