Get 20M+ Full-Text Papers For Less Than $1.50/day. Start a 14-Day Trial for You or Your Team.

Learn More →

A Little Story of My Childhood

A Little Story of My Childhood Note: My mother was in her eighty-fifth year when she died in 1975. She lived alone after my father died. I'd visit her in the long lonely evenings of autumn and winter and she would be sitting by her fireplace piecing quilt tops, working crossword puzzles, or reading. Three the Shepherd of the Hills. One winter evening I visited Mom and she was writing. "Oh, just a little story about my childhood." "Mom, what are you writing?" of her favorite books were Almetta of Goblin Run, Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come, and longings and came across an old copy of the N.E.A. magazine folded and tied with a blue calico string. Upon opening it, I discovered Mom's little story written in ink on sheets of notebook paper. This little vignette of her childhood reveals glimpses of the life of a child in Appalachia here in Eastern Kentucky during the closing years of the nineteenth century and opening years of the twentieth century. "Let me read it, please." "No, not now. Maybe someday." Mom didn't spend many more winters alone. After her death I was going through her be- _-Cynthia E. Mclntrye Kentucky, I was born. I was three http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

A Little Story of My Childhood

Appalachian Review , Volume 18 (1) – Jan 8, 1990

Loading next page...
 
/lp/university-of-north-carolina-press/a-little-story-of-my-childhood-syN0BdW5Mn

References

References for this paper are not available at this time. We will be adding them shortly, thank you for your patience.

Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
1940-5081
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Note: My mother was in her eighty-fifth year when she died in 1975. She lived alone after my father died. I'd visit her in the long lonely evenings of autumn and winter and she would be sitting by her fireplace piecing quilt tops, working crossword puzzles, or reading. Three the Shepherd of the Hills. One winter evening I visited Mom and she was writing. "Oh, just a little story about my childhood." "Mom, what are you writing?" of her favorite books were Almetta of Goblin Run, Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come, and longings and came across an old copy of the N.E.A. magazine folded and tied with a blue calico string. Upon opening it, I discovered Mom's little story written in ink on sheets of notebook paper. This little vignette of her childhood reveals glimpses of the life of a child in Appalachia here in Eastern Kentucky during the closing years of the nineteenth century and opening years of the twentieth century. "Let me read it, please." "No, not now. Maybe someday." Mom didn't spend many more winters alone. After her death I was going through her be- _-Cynthia E. Mclntrye Kentucky, I was born. I was three

Journal

Appalachian ReviewUniversity of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 1990

There are no references for this article.