UPDATE ON FALL

Haven't slept in a horizontal position since the fall...some 9 days now!

I sleep in the living room in one of my 5 La-Z-Boy recliners (2 on one couch, 2 on a love-seat, and one real recliner), just to mix it up a little, with either my Guinness or Coors lounge pants on, an old sweat-shirt, and a pair of wool hiking socks to keep me warm.

Baylee has assumed the run of the house, alternating between the laundry, computer room, and the foyer rug. She seems to change positions only when I grunt and struggle to my feet in the dark, trying to make it to the bathroom. Since she is solid black, all I hear is the “tick-tack” her claws make on the floor as she passes. I put both eyes on the cable box and finally focus in on the time, and calculate how long between snatches of sleep, and how much longer I have to catch up on what I’ve missed.

Monday evening I registered at the hospital and got several x-rays made of my chest. I was then told to come back Tuesday morning for an MIR on my head. Seems I forgot about hitting my head until Judy and I discussed the details. So, the doctor figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it out too.

Turns out, it did hurt (or at least would) to check it out and it would have hurt so much that I “passed” on the experience. First, the guy at the x-ray office pissed me off by telling me I needed to re-register, and I flat refused and turned and walked away, telling Judy I would be at the car! She stayed and discussed the procedure with him and the guy said I would be required to lie on my back, perfectly still, for 30 to 45 minutes! Since we knew that wasn’t possible, she joined me at the car and we had a good breakfast at the Cracker Barrel.

Later, at home, I woke from my nap to hear that the doctor had called to say I had 4 broken ribs! “Oh, it’s quite evident they’re broken alright,” nurse Judith told Judy. "They're not displaced, but clearly broken!"

Prognosis…6 to 8 weeks of pain!

FALLING HARD AT BUZZARD'S BLUFF

I’m out of commission for a few weeks…either broke or cracked some ribs on my right side. I was with a locally known videographer who wanted some footage from atop “Buzzard’s Bluff” in Harriman, Tennessee. As I was taking a panorama series of shots, my right foot rolled to the right shifting my 250 pounds downhill! I followed, landing some 2 to 3 feet on the next ledge of rock. I do not remember exactly how I hit, but I do know the right side of my face hit hard, and then I felt a sharp tearing pain in my ribs beneath my armpit. My right arm was folded up and against my rib cage, and my legs were still up on top of the ledge from which I fell. This position indicates that I did not break my fall in any way. I hit, and Doug Mills (the photographer) said I bounced! I pulled my legs from off the rocks above me, and lay very still, assessing my situation. At first I could not take a breath and the pain was tearing at my chest. (See photo with yellow arrow!)

I heard Doug and a couple of guys, who had been there shooting clay pigeons, running in my direction. The man, whose name I’m sorry I didn’t get, told me not to move, a suggestion I easily complied with, and pulled up my shirt to see if “anything was sticking out!” I think that was the first thought of fear that struck me, but he said “there’s no blood”.

His bluntness was actually welcomed, and I muttered, after taking my first real breath, “How embarrassing!”

In a few minutes he pulled me up to a sitting position using my left arm. I again assessed my health, and stood up. It was excruciating for the first 5 minutes, but then I seemed to walk it off, and even drove us back off the mountain, using my left arm.

I should have gone straight to the hospital, but a little part of me was too scared to want to know how close I came. However, I sustained a serious injury that will be confirmed tomorrow at my doctor’s office. I’m sure I’m in for a scolding, but for a fellow who has never spent a night in a hospital, having been born at home, hospitals are terrifying!

So, I’ll eventually be back, but in the mean time I’m breathing slow calculated breaths, grimacing from the pain as I move! Believe it or not, the worse part is a hiccup! Killer!

VALENTINE'S NIGHT OUT WITH OUR HONEYS

The Knights took the Dragons to Carrabba's in Knoxville this evening and we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. We lucked up and got Jessica Folis as a waitress again, she made sure us "repeats" got the best of service! If you follow the link back, you will see her smiling face again!

All the Dragons were looking their best and we lov'em, but don't tell them we said so! It would make their heads swell too much!

Jessica kept the beer and wine flowing while we ordered, ate our salads, and laughed louder than any other group in the place. Ron especially loved the New Castle, but it slowly turned to "Brown Castle" and finally "Brown Cow", but she knew what he meant!

Everything was delicious, as it usually is. I decided on the "Sicilian Braised Pork", with potatoes, fennel, and carrots. Man, let me tell you, it was so tender it just fell apart when my fork touched it. As you can see by the photo (click to enlarge), that's all that remained when I finished.

Several of the guys have been under the weather recently, so it was great to see everyone enjoying themselves again.




I lov'em all, but don't tell them I said so.

HIKING WITH THE YOUNG PEOPLE

So, in an effort to find a little snow, we traveled up to Frozen Head State Park, about 10 miles, or so, from where we live. Katie, and her beau Zack, wanted to go too, so we hopped in my truck and headed out.

We were disappointed to find no snow on the road as we entered the park, but we could see a line high up on the mountains.

We walked along the wide Judge Branch path, stopping to take photos along the way. Katie brought her camera and I noticed she had taken up a few of her Papaw's techniques, once planting the camera firmly on a rock and shooting a low-light shot up the creek. Maybe some of me is rubbing off after all. That thought was reinforced later when I noticed her pressing the camera body firmly against a tree to take Zack's picture.

The lighting was dim, with an overcast sky and frequent flurries, so often our camera shots were often automatically supplemented with fill-flash.

As we neared the trail head, about a mile and a half from the truck, we began walking in snow - not much mind you, but just enough to make things beautiful!

There are at least three bridges along the trail, one great campsite we've used a few times, and lots of running water. There were photo "ops" everywhere!

At the top of the first leg, we let Katie and Zack continue the loop up around by the old CCC dynamite shack, and we headed back down to meet them where the two trails meet; back down about half a mile from the parking lot. The kids needed a little space to sneak a kiss or two, and so did Granny and I! Isn't old and young love great!?

We love Frozen Head too. It has everything a park should offer for great hikes and it is so close to us. I don't know why we don't go every day. It is always so pleasing to see the mountain streams, strewn with moss covered rocks, and little white water falls. The Earth is most beautiful where man hasn't been allowed to make any changes.

More shots on Flickr!

MY AC/DC WEEKEND IN NASHVILLE

What can I say guys, it was as you would expect...fantastic!

Three of us traveled the 100+ miles to Nashville Saturday morning without tickets. The damn things were going for $250 on Ticket Master, then sold out. Some on eBay were going for $1000!

One of my concert buddies, Tim, has always said he can get tickets to any concert, so we shoved a hundred dollar bill into our billfolds, swore we would spend no more per ticket, and took Tim at his word.

So, we walked Broadway, 4th and 2nd Streets, and even down Printers Alley, had a few or two, until around 5PM Nashville time. We then went back to the hotel and rested up for about an hour and a half, then met in the lobby and headed to Sommet Center to look for tickets, or rather watch ol' Tim work his magic.

Inside, Tim asked the ticket agent if there were any tickets, "Nope, sold out!"

Back outside, Tim stood with three fingers raised in the air. To some, he looked weird, and they looked puzzled as they passed, but to another he had three tickets, and to others he needed three tickets.

However, a cop ran us off the Sommet property, telling us that if we wanted to buy a ticket from anyone we would have to do it off the property. So, we crossed back to the corner of 4th Street, where Tim again raised his three fingers!

"You got three tickets," one asked?

"No, need three," Tim responded.

Then the "scalpers" came, "How many you want?"

"Three."

"Got three for $250 each."

"No...too much," Tim said, as Ron and I looked puzzled.

"How much you wanta pay," the first guy asked?

"Forty!"

"You're crazy, you'll never get in with that attitude dude!"

It was the same story for some time, but after the gates opened, the dozen or so scalpers began to circle and look a little more agreeable to Tim's terms.

Finally, a guy came up with two tickets and wanted $90 each! I couldn't believe it. However, we said no, because we wanted three. However, Tim butted in and said, "We'll tak'em!"

Tim whispered to us to pay for them, that a single was a cinch! So, Ron and I had tickets!

I was not long before a single came along for $80 and Tim bought it. Of course, it was in a different section, but Tim said the object was to get in!

Inside Tim parted company with us, we got a beer and went to our Section 304 seats. The warm up band, a very good "The Answer" played their set and the lights came back on. Still there was no one sitting next to Ron. Then a group came and filed down our row, stopping one set short of Ron. We then knew it was a single seat!

Ron went over to Section 331 and found Tim and brought him and another beer back to our section.

Long story short, Tim sat with us through the entire AC/DC concert. Some scalper was sitting high and dry with a ticket he wanted $250 for, which made us very happy!

AC/DC was fantastic, with a big train crashing onto the stage, and Angus rubbing his belly raw from doing his usual thing of bouncing and sweating all over the stage! Man, that dude can play that guitar! I think they only played three new songs from their latest album, and just about every oldie I wanted to hear.

When they did "Thunderstruck" I rang up my son, who couldn't go this time, and let him hear his favorite!

We stayed out in Nashville until around midnight, spending the entire time at "The Beer Sellar", a wonderful little bar on Church Street with 50 pulls and 100 different kinds of beer in bottles! What more could an old man ask for...seeing AC/DC once before he died, surrounded by friends, and with so many different beers to sample!

Oh yeah, I also learned to trust Tim!

A FAMILY OF MASHBURN'S

As far back as most anyone researching our family name can go is around 1655, to a man born in St. Giles, London, England named Edward Marshborne or Marshburn. Having “borne” or the shorter “burn” added to a name usually denotes that his ancestors probably lived in the marshes, and more than likely near the growing port city of London. Edward, my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather, had a son by his second wife Sarah Sindery whom they called Edward (Jr.).

Both Edward Sr., by some accounts a school teacher, and Sarah died young, he around age 37 and she before reaching 30, most likely due to the plague, diphtheria, or any number of other incurable diseases that ravaged London in those days.

Edward Jr., my great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather, some accounts say because he alienated the “Crown” in published letters, and moved to America in 1697. He took with him his wife Mary Farrar, and two young boys, Edward and Matthew, to Virginia. Two other boys were born to the family in their new country, but only after moving to Onslow County, North Carolina.

Some say it was after settling in America that the “borne” became “burn”, but records such as the following will of Edward Jr.’s son Matthew attest that “Mashborne”, a shortened “Marshborne”, continued as the family name for at least another generation, or until 1761:

THE WILL OF MATTHEW MASHBORNE

In the name of God Almighty, I Matthew Mashborne of the county of Northampton and Providence of North Carolina being sick and weak in body but of sound and perfect mind and memory praise be given there fore to almighty God, I do make and ordain this my last will and testament in manner and form following that is to say first: Principally I commend my soul into the hands of almighty god hoping through the merit death and passion of my savior Jesus Christ to have full and free pardon and forgiveness of all my sins and to inherit everlasting life, and my body I commend to the earth to be decently buried at the discretion of my executors hereafter named and as touching the disposition of all such temporal estate as it hath pleased almighty god to bestow upon me I give and dispose of in manner and form as followith: I will that my debts and funeral charges shall be paid and discharged.

I give unto my beloved wife Sarah Mashborne the bed board stead and furniture belonging to it as I myself usually lay on and my black horse named frock and my riding saddle and two cows and calves.

I give and bequeath unto my grandson James Mashborne son of Samuel Mashborne deceased in his fathers stead one two year old heffer.

I give and bequeath unto my son Edward Mashborne my still. {It is this bequeathment that has long given me reason to believe my family surname simply means we are from a long line of “moonshiners!” And from the “burn”, we weren’t too good at it!}

I give and bequeath unto my son David Mashborne one bed and the furniture belonging to it.

I give and bequeath unto my children Mary (Mashborne) Pirson, Anne Mashborne, Martha Mashborne James Mashborne, Edward Mashborne, Sarah (Mashborne) Lassiter, Pricilla Mashborne, Elizabeth Mashborne, Charity Mashborne, Rachel Mashborne, David Mashborne, Jethro Mashborne, Daniel Mashborne, William Mashborne. All the rest of my estate not given out in legacies and to be equally divided amongst them. I likewise desire my executors to have a care and see my three young children brought up as well and Christian like as possible in reason.

I do hereby appoint my sons Matthew Mashborne and James Mashborne executors of this my last will and Testament, and I do hereby revoke disannul and make void all other wills and testaments by me here-to-fore made. In witness whereof I the said Matthew Mashborne to this my last will and testament do hereunto set my hand and seal this second day of July in the year of our Lord One Thousand Seven Hundred and Sixty.

Notary Seal ( ) X ( ) Notary Seal

Matthew signed with X

Matthew, my great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather, married Sarah (nothing is really known about her except that she was married and died in Northampton County, N.C.)

The fourth child born to Matthew and Sarah was named James, my great-great-great-great-great grandfather, who was born in 1735, in Burke County, N.C. James married Rebecca Stroud in 1770 and they had 6 children.

The third child born was named Drury, my great-great-great-great grandfather, and Drury was also born in Burke County, N.C.

It was James’ children that began the spread of the Mashburn family name. His son Elisha died in Forsyth City, Georgia, and his brother Levi, it is said in some accounts, that he moved “west”, and finally William died in Monroe City, Tennessee.

Drury married Elizabeth Morgan and had 12 children! The 6^th child was David, my great-great-great grandfather, born in 1799, still in or around Burke County, N.C. David lived to the ripe old age of 61, and had 8 children with Mary Woody.

David’s first son Noah Ozias, my great-great-grandfather, was the man that got my side of the family out of North Carolina! He married Rhoda Julia Ann Holden in August of 1848, the daughter of Uriah Holden and Rhoda Brookshire. Her name is the first in the family to be listed as being born “Cherokee Indian Nation, Gilmer County, Georgia”. The couple moved to Etowah County, Boaz, Alabama, and raised 7 children.

Noah’s family may also have been the first “Mashburn’s”. The move to a new state may have prompted the dropping of the “Marsh” and the “borne” from the surname. Only they know if it was by desire or by necessity!

Robert Jefferson “Mashburn”, my great-grandfather, was Noah and Rhoda’s 4^th child. He was born in Boaz, Alabama on April 12, 1857, and continued to live there for the next 81 years. The ol’ boy had 4 wives over this period too!

My direct linage comes through his 3^rd wife Sarah Robinson, and their 4^th child William Thomas Mashburn, my grandfather.

William Thomas was Robert Jefferson’s 11^th child. Robert sired 16 children with his 4 wives, spreading the Mashburn name throughout the south…almost single handedly through his 10 boys!

So, on the 14^th day of December in 1902, in the little town of Boaz, Alabama, the Reverend W. F. Milwee asked a small gathering of the couple’s friends, in the parlor of his home, to recognize William (Willie) Thomas Mashburn and Ola (otherwise known as Toler, and sometimes as Nora) L. (Lou) Hammonds as husband and wife. He ended the service by repeating what was written atop their marriage certificate, “What therefore God hath joined together let not man put asunder.”

The new couple, Ola 21, and Willie 22, would, over the next 22 years, have 7 boys and 1 girl. They were my grandparents. Their children, in order of their appearance, would be:

ARVIE LOYCE, WILLIAM EARL, SPENCER ERSIE, JESSE LEE, LOYCE GENEVA, ROBERT FRANKLIN, JAMES ERNST (my dad), ELMER EUGENE

In 1918, Willie (known to his family as Pa) and Ma (Ola) moved their family by covered wagon from Etowah County, Alabama to Five Points, Tennessee. James Ernst and Elmer Eugene were the last children to be born, and the only ones to be born in Tennessee.

He bought an 80 acre farm near Five Points and raised corn and cotton. It was on this farm that I learned to chop/hoe and pick cotton, and to weed long corn rows. Even as a small child I would often ride the “scratcher” through the field, busting up clods of dirt and grass, as Pa directed a team of “plow-broke” mules with gee’s, haw’s, and whoa’s! Pa would firmly bark out “Gee” and the team would veer right, or left to “Haw”!

I can still smell the white lime rich soil as it ran under me, dry and white on top, and dark and moist underneath, hear the crunch of the dry crust beneath his work shoes as he walked the plowed row beside me, the tinkle, the jingle, and the rasp of leather-on-leather from the harnesses, hear him grunt his commands, and hear the raspberry-like sound from the mule’s lips as they exhaled their complaints through slobbery mouths. A grandfather could leave no better legacy to his children than this!

Against that benchmark, I will fall terribly short.

Pa Mashburn was a hard working man, and did farm work until the year before his death in 1963. As a matter of fact, he “made a garden” the last summer of his life. He was 81 years old when he died and bragged the year before, in an article to the local newspaper, about having had only one “shot” from a doctor. He cut his hand working his farm that last year and was given a tetanus shot as a precaution.

Pa never had an easy job, whether it was cutting and hauling cross-ties using a “yoke of oxen” for 50 cents a day, or splitting rails and cutting logs. He did it all without complaint and must have walked thousands of miles in countless fields, fueled by only what he grew himself, and cooked with love, in lard, by his wife. Ma left Pa in the care of their unmarried daughter in 1960. It was my honor to have been one of her pallbearers.

Little is known about my grandmother’s family. Whether she took the Hammonds surname from her mother’s side of the family or her father’s is not known. All that is known is that she was raised by her grandmother, after her mother died when she was a young girl. However, she does show up in Boaz, Alabama in time to marry my grandfather in 1902.

And me, well, I’m:

James Paul Mashburn (Generation 11)

Son of James Ernest (Christine Williams)

Son of William Thomas (Nora Lou Hammond)

Son of Robert Jefferson (Sarah Roberson)

Son of Noah Ozias (Julia Ann Holden)

Son of David (Mary Woody)

Son of Drury (Elizabeth Morgan)

Son of James (Rebecca Stroud)

Son of Matthew Sr. (Sarah)

Son of Edward Jr. (Mary Farrar)

Son of Edward Sr. (Sarah Sindery)

My lineage can be argued, and other scenarios can be offered, but no one has any real proof contrary to the genealogy as presented. I like this scenario and I’m satisfied with it. Regardless, one day I’m sure, all will be revealed, and none of this will matter.