“A Son Of The Soil”
I painted a picture several years ago, of draft horses working in a field of plowed furrows, as a depiction of my Great, Great, Great Grandfathers, McAlister and Hitchcock, as they broke the virgin prairie soil of Western Illinois in the years of the 1830’s for Grandpa McAlister and 1850’s for Grandpa Hitchcock. These men were some of the first settlers/farmers in that wonderful black soil land now known as Peoria County, Illinois, which, at that time was the Far Western Frontier.
Triple Grand, James McAlister, was born in the Illinois prairie in 1817, and in his lifetime, through hard work and persistence, built and maintained a model farm that still exists today, and did it all with the help of draft horses and hand tools. He and Grandmother Elizabeth Proctor McAlister, birthed 10 children, seven of which died from TB before the age of 30. A man of hard work, and a man of sorrows.
Triple Grand, Nelson Hitchcock, came in the 1850’s, from Ohio, settled in the same area, around Trivoli, Illinois, in Peoria County, and also built a sustaining, profitable farming operation. The McAlister and Hitchcock families were neighbors, and as will happen when the sap starts rising in the young men, and the flower starts blooming in the young women, they got together, got married and started the family line which eventually moved even farther West to Missouri, and hatched sons and daughters.
On the other side of the creek, my mom was growing up in Kansas, my dad was growing up in Kansas City, and again sap and flowering got them together, got them married and begot me and two more sons, Danny and Sammy.
On my Mom’s side of the family, solid workers of the soil…pioneers in Kansas and Arkansas, farmers and woodsmen, leather tanners and corn shuckers, axe wielders and preachers, whiskey makers, horsemen and soldiers. The Johnson’s and the Wallis’s joined with the McAlister’s and Hitchcock’s, and guaranteed that I would be raised in the traditions of my ancestors.
Someone made a comment the other day that Hillbilly is not a race.
Well, in my case it is….let me try to explain in simple terms just how I arrive at that conclusion.
I am “pure blood hillbilly”, with black dirt, hickory wood, sweaty work horses, solid as an Oak, tough as whet leather, Spiritual from infancy, conservative from adulthood…independent to the end….Patriotic,,,,a student of American history….a lover of traditional music…rough as a cob, and content to stay that way. Just imagine putting a lot of Scots-Irish and English…. a little Welsh, Norwegian and German, a dab of Cherokee…put it in a blender and whip it up real good, put it in a crock jar, set it out in the hot Midwestern sun for three days, then set it under the shade of a Walnut tree, add a little white lightning for flavor, a whole bunch of Scripture for strength and faith, a portion of old time country and gospel music for Rhyming, throw in some cussidness, stubbornness and fightin’ spirit, add a whole lot of love to gentle it down to manageability….and the result is = “The Hillbilly Race”. It ain’t no more complicated than that.
I have always felt the souls of my ancestors strong inside me, and I consider it a privilege of birth and heritage to be born of the hills, watered by the limestone creeks, sheltered and protected by the Ozark Plateau risinig from the Mississippi River bed, warmed by the West wind of Kansas and Oklahoma, wandering in theForests and Valleys, forever carrying the memory of home, wherever I might be.
Stan McAlister-Wallis-Johnson-Hitchcock, a son of the soil.
I painted a picture several years ago, of draft horses working in a field of plowed furrows, as a depiction of my Great, Great, Great Grandfathers, McAlister and Hitchcock, as they broke the virgin prairie soil of Western Illinois in the years of the 1830’s for Grandpa McAlister and 1850’s for Grandpa Hitchcock. These men were some of the first settlers/farmers in that wonderful black soil land now known as Peoria County, Illinois, which, at that time was the Far Western Frontier.
Triple Grand, James McAlister, was born in the Illinois prairie in 1817, and in his lifetime, through hard work and persistence, built and maintained a model farm that still exists today, and did it all with the help of draft horses and hand tools. He and Grandmother Elizabeth Proctor McAlister, birthed 10 children, seven of which died from TB before the age of 30. A man of hard work, and a man of sorrows.
Triple Grand, Nelson Hitchcock, came in the 1850’s, from Ohio, settled in the same area, around Trivoli, Illinois, in Peoria County, and also built a sustaining, profitable farming operation. The McAlister and Hitchcock families were neighbors, and as will happen when the sap starts rising in the young men, and the flower starts blooming in the young women, they got together, got married and started the family line which eventually moved even farther West to Missouri, and hatched sons and daughters.
On the other side of the creek, my mom was growing up in Kansas, my dad was growing up in Kansas City, and again sap and flowering got them together, got them married and begot me and two more sons, Danny and Sammy.
On my Mom’s side of the family, solid workers of the soil…pioneers in Kansas and Arkansas, farmers and woodsmen, leather tanners and corn shuckers, axe wielders and preachers, whiskey makers, horsemen and soldiers. The Johnson’s and the Wallis’s joined with the McAlister’s and Hitchcock’s, and guaranteed that I would be raised in the traditions of my ancestors.
Someone made a comment the other day that Hillbilly is not a race.
Well, in my case it is….let me try to explain in simple terms just how I arrive at that conclusion.
I am “pure blood hillbilly”, with black dirt, hickory wood, sweaty work horses, solid as an Oak, tough as whet leather, Spiritual from infancy, conservative from adulthood…independent to the end….Patriotic,,,,a student of American history….a lover of traditional music…rough as a cob, and content to stay that way. Just imagine putting a lot of Scots-Irish and English…. a little Welsh, Norwegian and German, a dab of Cherokee…put it in a blender and whip it up real good, put it in a crock jar, set it out in the hot Midwestern sun for three days, then set it under the shade of a Walnut tree, add a little white lightning for flavor, a whole bunch of Scripture for strength and faith, a portion of old time country and gospel music for Rhyming, throw in some cussidness, stubbornness and fightin’ spirit, add a whole lot of love to gentle it down to manageability….and the result is = “The Hillbilly Race”. It ain’t no more complicated than that.
I have always felt the souls of my ancestors strong inside me, and I consider it a privilege of birth and heritage to be born of the hills, watered by the limestone creeks, sheltered and protected by the Ozark Plateau risinig from the Mississippi River bed, warmed by the West wind of Kansas and Oklahoma, wandering in theForests and Valleys, forever carrying the memory of home, wherever I might be.
Stan McAlister-Wallis-Johnson-Hitchcock, a son of the soil.
No comments:
Post a Comment