Fully schooled as a homemaker, those who were acquainted with me recognized my value as a cook and taking care of children, patiently and kindly. I could always maintain my composure and control my emotions. I had learned to control my temper and to be kind and patient with children.( Rum was such a hard and dedicated worker that he had little time to handle discipline problems with our children.) When Rum or my children had trouble, I was usually able to "calm the storm." I never told my husband some of the things my children did. He would have thrown what is commonly called a "fit."

align=left> My son, George, did not give us very much trouble, but he never matured as well as we would have liked. He did work himself into his "pa JAM as", and so did my daughters. For the most part all my children showed good behaviors and judgement. As parents, Rum and I did our duties and helped the children then necessary.

Image shows my daughter Martha Dorcas Fulks Hallman, Ella Belle Abbott Fulks, and my son-in-law, Norman Ray Hallman.

When my grandchild, Wanda Hallman, visited us at Camp Cornelia in 1956, she was not allowed outside without supervision. Huge, diamondbacked rattlesnakes were often seen on the premises. Once I gazed out the kitchen-door, and there was one near the steps. My son, George, snapped this shot of Wanda. You can see my silhouette in a window of our Camp Cornelia residence. (time line 1956) It was necessary that we watch every step we took there. For that reason, I was somewhat pleased when Rum retired, and we moved back to Western Kentucky.

My parents, Bruce and May Shay Abbott had other children. They were Kenneth, Elbert, Ottie, Eva, and Hilma.

A World War II veteran and a combat infantryman, my brother Kenneth participated in the D-Day Invasion in Europe and continued to pursue the Axis Powers until the war concluded in 1945.

Communicating with my brothers and sisters by letter for many years, we were lacking in both time and the financial means to visit my mother and father or brothers and sisters as often as we would have liked. Most of my immediate family resided in Eastern Kentucky and Indiana. Only in a few instances were any of them able to visit Rum and me. We did communicate by mail- frequently.

I learned to read, write, and do arithmetic well in the schools there in Soldier, Kentucky. The teachers we had were very strict. If anyone said a word except during the oral recitations, a student would be severely punished. I did get a good basic education by working hard at school and behaving satisfactorily.As a child and young lady, I made many friends there in Soldier.

During the summer of 1947, Rum, I, and all our children visited my mother and father, Bruce and May Shay Abbott. Their Soldier, Kentucky home was located near the top of a mountain. From that point, one could look down and see the town and far into the distance. Those mountains was mostly impassable but made a scenic view; the bluffs, boulders, meadows and forests.

Soldier when I was a child was really a beautiful town, but slowly, it became rundown. Houses went unpainted, grass eroded from ground runoff, trees were removed for fuel. Among other things were open drains; causing the town to have a bad odor. Flies, mosquitos, and livestock roamed freely from unfenced lots. By 1940, Soldier was an unhealty undesirable place to live.

On the subject of World War II, my brother, Kenneth, was with Patton's 3rd Army during "The Battle Of The Bulge." He had participated earlier in the invasion of Normandy.Rum, I, and the children were still living in Kentucky. I listened daily to radio reports of those soldiers killed, captured, or missing in action. It was one day in December, 1944 that I was in the kitchen. Announced among a list of killed was a Kenneth Abbott. My heard fluttered, and I dropped the spoon I was holding onto the floor. "Oh, my God!" I shouted. The man killed with the name Kenneth Abbott was from a large city in Ohio. My Kenneth Abbott was from Soldier, Kentucky. The man killed in action was not my brother.

A little- known fact is that both my mother and father, Bruce and May Shay Abbott, were nearly full-blooded Cherokee. That is the story passed down through time. They were to participate in "The Trail Of Tears", but had made friends with a wealthy officer in the U.S. Army. That officer agreed to care for the children. My greatgrandfather would return for his children if he and his squaw survived the journey to the land reserved for them in Oklahoma; They were never heard from again. The children left behind were allowed to work as servants on a large plantation in Virginia. They were freed at the same time as slaves and were given a land grant in what is now West Virginia. Evidence of this story is apparent from the skintint, jawbones, and other facial features typical for Native Americans. That was especially true in the case of my nephew, Jimmy Abbott. He was almost surely Cherokee with some European blood.(My nephew, Jimmy Abbott, deceased during the 1990's. His premature death from lungcancer might have been associated with his use of tobacco and the breathing of industrial and coal dust.) Employed in Indiana, he survived in a hospital less than a week following the discovery of his illness.

Assuming guardianship of my nephew and neice were my parents, Bruce and May Shay Abbott. Both Jimmy and Jeanette were my sister Hilma's children. Many years have passed since I have seen Ottie or Hilma, but we did communicate often by mail. Brother Kenneth and sister, Eva were more communicative. My son and I traveled from Fulton, Kentucky to Soldier, Kentucky by train for a visit with my parents, Bruce and May Shay Abbott during the 1950's. My nephew and neice, Jimmy and Jeanette Abbott were living in Soldier, Kentucky at that time with my mother and father.

At sometime during the 1960's, the home of my mother and father, Bruce and May Shay Abbott burned. They resided in Soldier, Kentucky at that time. Their large, two-story house was located near a railroad and Pentecostal Church. As a result of the fire, all of their photos and furnishings were destroyed. The photos and several valuable antiques were a great loss to my mother and daddy. This antique print was from my mother's collection, and I gave it to my son as a keepsake. It's one of the few items that were not destroyed in the fire. Mother also had a large collection of antique books that were lost as a result. ("The Lone Wolf" print is in its original, antique frame.)