What I Remember . . .

What I Remember of my Tennessee Visits in my Youth
by James Roark

Hi cousins. My name is James William Roark, I live in Cuyahoga Falls, OH, and I’m a descendant of the lineage of James P. Roark. 

I thought a lot while coming back from this year’s Roark-Conner Reunion, and the urgings of Chuck Gross spurred me to write some recollections of my early Tennessee visits to see the family. I hope you enjoy them and may be inspired to write down your own memories.

I always loved the visits we made to see my grandmother, uncles, aunts and cousins in Cowan, TN. It was a 2 day trip in the early 50’s (no Interstate highways). It only takes 9 hours now, leaving Akron, OH, and traveling south on U.S. Rt. 42 through Cincinnati toward Louisville, KY, picking up Rt. 31E through Bardstown and Glasgow, KY, south through Lebanon and Murfreesboro, TN into Shelbyville and turning onto Rt. 41A through Tullahoma and Winchester to get to Cowan, TN. 

We always stopped in Glasgow, KY overnight. I remember the motel vividly; the rooms were fashioned as Indian “Tee-Pee’s.” My father John William Roark was a private pilot, so we were assured of the shortest trip being laid out.

My Grandfather (William Abner Roark) had passed before I was born, but that little old lady who was my Grandmother (Lucy Eddy Roark) had more than enough love for both of them. She, my Aunt Mae, and Uncle Toliver had a farm in the valley east of Cowan just off of 41A on the road to Suwannee, TN in the “Roark Cove” area of Franklin County.

The farmhouse they lived in was old, weathered, unpainted, and wood-topped with a tin roof. The first time I was there during a rainstorm I couldn’t believe the noise, but you got used to it. The old barn wasn’t much better, well worn, a roof that dropped down in the center, but still serviceable. The air always smelled so fresh, and the trees and crops were always lush and green. I loved walking through the fields of corn and hay in that beautiful valley.

My Grandmother was quite a woman, as all pioneer farmers had to be. I remember her telling us we were having chicken for dinner, and then going out, grabbing a chicken and wringing its neck.  That was the first time I was introduced to “plucking” too. (Quite a sight for a 6 year old, but I got over it, as the dinner was excellent.) 

The farm had a creek that ran alongside the dirt road off of 41A, and I spent many a delightful summers’ day in that creek chasing tad poles and crayfish. My Aunt Mae and Uncle Toliver were sister and brother. They lived on the farm also; both never married and are interred together in the Cowan cemetery near William Abner and Lucy Eddy Roark.

In the early days, I watched as Uncle Toliver (“Mutt” as he was called) worked the fields with his team of mules. Later on, he did buy a farm tractor. My dad bought a wrecked 1961 Dodge pickup truck, that had been totaled by the insurance company, rebuilt it, and gave it to Mutt. He ran that truck for the next 20+ years. Aunt Mae was a great cook too; the okra, black eyed peas, ham, potatoes, and other “country foods” that I got to sample, were great. There were some things I didn’t like, but somehow I knew these people worked hard to put meals on the table for us, and I was always grateful. 

I was probably 8 years old during one memorable trip to Cowan. My Uncle James Lee Roark (whom I was named after) was an engineer for the Louisville & Nashville railroad, and he happened to be stopped at Cowan’s Siding. My dad took me down to see him at the station, and I was thrilled beyond words when he hoisted me up into cabin of the big steam engine and took it down the tracks a short distance and back. The heat from the firebox, the feel of the train rumbling on the tracks, and the whistle are permanently among my fondest memories of the many family visits to Cowan in my youth.