A 1780s Log Fort Replica | Mansker's Station | Goodlettesville, Tennessee | Landmark Landing

Mansker's Station, taken by Jennie Moore, 2023

    Hello friends, welcome to the blog! I'd like to share with you a site that my mom and I visited together at Moss Wright Park in Goodlettesville, Tennessee. This is Mansker's Station, a historically accurate replica of the original Mansker's Station frontier fort that existed at this site in the late 18th century, built by Kasper Mansker. 

    There were two forts built by Kasper Mansker and crew along Mansker's Creek. The first was built in 1779 on the creek's western bank. However, this fort would be abandoned in the winter of 1780-1781 due to attacks from the local indigenous peoples. After the settlers fled, the fort would be burned.  

    Like the first fort, the second too would be a log structure, this time built on the eastern side of the creek about a mile from the original. Mansker returned and began building the second fort in 1783. Many would stay at the fort throughout its existence, its primary purpose being to protect white settlers from native attacks as they staked their claims within indigenous territory. 

Historical Marker at Mansker's Station, taken by Jennie Moore, 2023

    Kasper Mansker was born circa 1750 on a ship called Christian, as it crossed the Atlantic from Europe. The Mansker family was of German descent, boarding Christian for a new life in the British American Colonies. As an adult, Kasper would become a long hunter and frontiersman, paving the path for colonization in Middle Tennessee. 

    In 1988, the replica of Mansker's Station would be built. Not only is the replica an accurate representation of 18th century construction, but was actually built using 18th century tools and techniques. Today, the site hosts living history exhibits and historical reenactors to help tell the story of the settlers that once lived at Mansker's Station. 

    Thank you for coming along with me on another adventure. I hope you learned something new and enjoyed the read. I look forward to seeing you on a future post! 

Sources:

-  Mansker's Station | Goodlettsville, TN - Official Website

- Mansker’s Station Historical Marker

- Historic Mansker Station

 

A Quaint and Cozy Bookstore | The Book Bridge | Branson, Missouri | Small Business Sunday

 

The Book Bridge taken by Jennie Moore

    Hello everyone, welcome to the blog! Today's stop is a cute and quaint bookstore that I think many of you will enjoy. My family and I recently visited Branson, Missouri, and one of my favorite stops is historic downtown. The strip is amazing, but if you're anything like me, old downtown isn't something you want to miss. On this trip, we stumbled upon The Book Bridge, and I couldn't wait to share with y'all.

    We visited in late September, so downtown was decked out in autumn decor, including The Book Bridge! I found this so warm and charming, I couldn't help but get a buzz off the cozy vibes. I browsed the shelves and was pleased by how many books across every genre were included in the currently running sale! I browsed the shelves, and for a smaller space, this shop has a wonderful selection. 

    After browsing the shelves, I carefully made my selections. I have a wish list of reads I'm looking for and was able to score two books on the list, both by popular author Emily Henry. For a large hardcover, I spent twelve dollars, and for a paperback, nine dollars. I certainly can't complain about the prices, as these were much less compared to the copies I had priced at other, bigger box stores. Sweet! It is also worth mentioning that the staff member I spoke to was very kind and helpful as well! 

 If you're a bookworm visiting the Branson area, I recommend you stop by The Book Bridge! I love historic downtown, and this is a great addition. If you visit, let me know which reads you pick up! I'm always open to recommendations. Thank you for tuning in and I'll see you at my next stop! 

Benjamin B. Cahoon, Fredericktown's Most Famous Lawyer | Fredericktown, Missouri | Grave Hopping

 

                                 Headstone of Benjamin Benson Cahoon, taken by Jennie Moore

     Hello everyone, welcome back to the blog. As y'all know, visiting cemeteries is a big part of my work, and frankly a big part of my passion. Rather I visit for a specific reason or am just looking to learn, I often find myself drawn to random graves within the cemetery. For one reason or another, sometimes unbeknownst to me, I'm often gravitated toward a specific headstone among the sea of so many. When I experience this, I snap a picture, and go home to begin my research. I've decided to start writing about my findings, and sharing their stories with you all. Although many of these subjects may not be famous people, I find inspiration in the lives of these everyday persons. It is impossible to predict what is hiding behind the names on each stone. This series may not be for everyone, but I do hope some of you will enjoy and come along on these journeys with me!

    One of the first images I have taken in such a scenario is the one seen above. My dad and I are both interested in local history, so he has accompanied me on many cemetery visits. A few years back, we were visiting the Saint Michaels Church Catholic Cemetery in Fredericktown, Missouri. This cemetery is one of the oldest in the area, so it wasn't long before I found my stone of interest. When I see a stone of this type, it peaks my interest, as it may be a military issued stone. One with this weathering tipped me off that this could be a soldier of the Civil War, perhaps my favorite era to research. Sure enough, it became clear that it was my lucky day as I made my way closer. I had reached the grave of Benjamin B. Cahoon. I liked the name and was eager to know more. 

     Benjamin Benson Cahoon was born on July 7th, 1846 in Wilmington, Delaware. He was brought up in a respectable family, his father being a minister. Cahoon had plans to further pursue education when the Civil War broke out. He would join the Union cause, fighting with the First Regiment of the Delaware Volunteer Infantry, a part of the notable Army of the Potomac. During his service, Benjamin sustained injuries at both Antietam and Gettysburg, two of the bloodiest battles of the war. In spite of seeing the heights of the war's brutality, the young man returned home not only a survivor, but a hero.

    After the war concluded, Cahoon resumed his education, focusing in law. He also made the move to Missouri, settling in Fredericktown in 1868. Here, he established his law practice, understanding that Fredericktown was a growing hamlet with a need for his work. On February 3rd, 1869, Cahoon wed Miss Marie Isabella "Belle/Bella" LeCompte. Bella was born on October 18th, 1847 in Ste. Genevieve, Missouri, a descendant of one of Ste. Genevieve's early French settler families. Together, they would have three children Virginia, Eugenia, and Benjamin Jr. The marriage would last just under twenty years, until Bella passed away after a difficult battle with cancer on January 15th, 1889. She was surrounded by her family, including loving husband, Benjamin. Bella is remembered as a dedicated wife, mother, and member of the church. She is also buried in Saint Michaels Church Catholic Cemetery.

                                                         Benjamin Benson "B.B." Cahoon

    By this time, Cahoon's political career was going well. He had advanced from county attorney to circuit attorney, and had many impressive connections. His success had taken him to Washington D.C., where he met Miss Nancy Owens "Annie" Fisher, daughter of prominent Judge Fisher who was born on Christmas Day 1847. The two wed on March 5th, 1891 in a small but prestigious ceremony. From here, Cahoon continued his career, obtaining a nomination for governor in 1896. He would not win this election, but that set him on a path to pursue another interest of his. Governor Hadley went on to name Cahoon one of the managers of the Farmington Hospital, which still exists today. 

    After a prolonged battle with disease, Annie passed away on October 27th, 1915. She was laid to rest back in her home state of Delaware. Now a widower, Cahoon went on with his practice despite experiencing hearing loss in his advancing age. On July 22nd 1923, tragedy struck the family once again when Cahoon's granddaughter, Virginia Ann Cahoon, was killed in a car accident in Wayne County, Missouri. Virginia was the daughter of Benjamin Jr., and she was only 18 years old at the time of her passing. This is often attributed to be the ultimate downfall of Benjamin Sr.'s health and well being, as his health began to spiral after this incident. 

    On the morning of November 9th the same year, Benjamin Benson Cahoon Sr. passed away in his sleep at his home in Fredericktown. The loss of the community's beloved "B.B." was felt widely, as many paid respect to the man and his impressive career. Cahoon came from humble roots, and was truly self made. From a poor young man traveling west, to a soldier, to a lawyer and politician, Cahoon had done it all. 

    Over a century has elapsed since Cahoon's death, and had I not stumbled upon his stone, I likely would've never known his story. Now you know his story too, and I hope you found it interesting enough to join me on the blog again in the future. 

     

Middle Tennessee's Tent Graves | Polk Bilbrey Cemetery | Overton County, Tennessee | Cemeteries

 

Polk Bilbrey Cemetery Sign taken by Jennie Moore, 2017

    In 2017, my mom and I traveled to Overton County, Tennessee on a quest of genealogy. We have deep ancestral roots in the area, prompting us to make the six-hour journey from southeast Missouri. One of the stops we made upon arrival was the Polk Bilbrey Cemetery, one of the most fascinating cemeteries I've ever visited. This was my first time seeing tent graves, which immediately grabbed my attention. American and Confederate flags decorated the graves, marking the resting places of many soldiers from both the Civil and Revolutionary wars. 

Tent Graves in Polk Bilbrey Cemetery taken by Jennie Moore, 2017

    So, what are tent graves? Primarily a trait of middle Tennessee, tent graves, also sometimes called "comb graves" first appeared here in the early 1800s. They consist of a tent-like shape formed by stone slabs over the burial. These graves can also be found in other southern states, but it is Tennessee where the phenomenon is most prevalent. Why exactly these graves came to be is debated, theories range from simply deterring digging animals to perhaps a spiritual significance. Regardless of why, these graves became ingrained in the culture of middle Tennessee.

Polk Bilbrey Cemetery taken by Jennie Moore, 2017

    Polk Bilbrey Cemetery sits off a lone gravel road outside of Livingston, Tennessee. As I walked the grounds, I felt a sense of deep wonder and curiosity. I have walked many cemeteries, but none like this one. I was so grateful to have seen these mysterious tent graves with my own eyes. They are truly one of the United States' most interesting pieces of cemetery history. 

Isham Bilbrey Grave taken by Jennie Moore, 2017

    Although not a tent grave, a burial that grabbed my attention was that of Revolutionary War soldier Isham Hansford Bilbrey, namesake of the cemetery. Bilbrey was born in 1765 in North Carolina to Thomas and Sarah (Smith) Bilbrey. He married Ruth Sellers in 1788, and they went on to have thirteen children. Isham served in the Continental Line in North Carolina during the Revolutionary War, surviving his service and passing away at age 81-82 in Overton County, Tennessee. He has the second earliest documented birth year in the cemetery.

    Thank you all for joining me on another journey. I hope you enjoyed this stop and leaned something new, I certainly did. Polk Bilbrey is one of the most interesting cemeteries I've had the pleasure of visiting, and I hope to encounter more tent graves in the future. If you have ever visited tent graves, or any unique graves for that matter, I'd love to hear about your visit in the comments. Until next time, take care friends. 

Home For the Holidays | First Christmas with Our New Family | Christmas 2025

 

    Hello friends, Merry Christmas! I hope you all are enjoying your holiday with friends and family, I know I am. I wanted to provide an update on our family journey that I shared about previously, as we just shared our first Christmas together. If you haven't read my original post about our family journey, click here to read. This Christmas has been the best in our memory thanks to our newfound family, and I again thank each and every one of you for your warmth and kindness. 

    It was about eight o'clock in the morning when we set out for the two-and-a-half-hour trip to Jonesboro, Arkansas. We stopped for coffee and headed south, spirits high among us. This was to be our first Christmas together, sixty-three years in the making. In addition to the who we had met just a few months before, we were also to meet even more family at this gathering, which we had been really looking forward to. Soon enough, we all converged on Aunt Joan's house, cars with license plates from five different states parked in the driveway. 

    Upon arriving, we were greeted gleefully by Joan and others. Immediately we were taken into the festive atmosphere. Others began to arrive as we settled in, and soon we had a full house. Among the guests were three cousins who had come from Tennessee and Mississippi, daughters and granddaughter of great aunt Bee, my grandfather's sister (Linda, Pat, and Linda's daughter Tammy). Ever since the breakthrough had been made and contact with family began, these cousins had reached out to me with such kindness. I am over the moon that they had come to meet us. These ladies are fabulous quilters, and I've loved seeing their work through Facebook for the past few months. Imagine my delight and surprise when they came bearing gifts. Inside two bags, one for my parents and one for me, was two absolutely beautiful, handmade quilts. 

Quilt gifted to me by Linda

    We chatted at the tables set up in the garage, as there were so many of us. It was then that cousin Linda, gifter of the quilts, pulled out another surprise. We waited in anticipation as she pulled an envelope of family photos from her purse. Dad and I were thrilled to see them. I began to pull out my phone to take photos of the photos, when Linda said "these are for you." They had been kind enough to make us our own copies of all the moments that we had missed. We spent time filing through them, listening to the information and stories that the ladies had to share. We laughed about the shocking resemblances and shared features among us all. These moments are absolutely priceless to me.

    Soon we joined for the meal, a grand southern spread made by several members of the family. We said grace and dug in, and boy was it delicious. The room fell quiet as we enjoyed our plates. After, it was time for the ornament exchange, an annual tradition for the family that I had never done before. We gathered in the living room in a large circle, each with an ornament we had brought. Aunt Joan sat at the fireplace and began to read the story of the origin of Christmas. Each time a key word was said, we passed the ornament to the person to our right. By the end of the story, we each had a new ornament! We opened them in unison, a fun reveal. I got cousin Ethan's T-Rex ornament, which I think is absolutely awesome, and looks perfect on my pink tree at home. It felt so good to be a part of something like this.

    We visited for a while longer, getting to know the newly met members of the family. I could try to nail down this feeling into words, but I'm not sure that its possible. It took a long time for us to find our way here, yet I have never been so sure where I belong. Soon, we had to set back out for home. No amount of time would have been enough. There are still so many conversations I cannot wait to have, and moments I cannot wait to share with every member of this incredible family. Thank you for teaching us about unconditional love, and I am so eager to see you all again. Thank you for a very special, memorable Christmas!

     

A Civil War Soldier's Widow in the 1950s | Nancy Jane "Aunt Nan" Dosing | Flat River, Park Hills, Missouri

 

Nancy Jane "Aunt Nan" (Whaley) Dosing c. 1949

    Hello everyone, welcome back to the blog! In today's article, I want to share with you the life of a very interesting and beloved local woman with quite the unique story. Nicknamed "Aunt Nan" by the community, Nancy left an immense impact on her hometown of Flat River, Missouri. A loving and funny maternal figure to many, Nancy's life and memories are a view into an era of the Lead Belt that is only otherwise captured in the occasional black and white photo. Perhaps the most interesting element of Nancy's story, is that she was the widow of a Civil War soldier, and was the only known local woman to be receiving a Civil War pension that long after the war. Nancy received her late husband's pension until her death in 1958, nearly a century after the start of the Civil War.

Nancy Jane (Whaley) Dosing, younger

    On July 17th, 1870, Flat River couple George and Gillilah (Cobb) Whaley welcomed a baby girl into their family. They would call her Nancy Jane, and raise her in the small farming community in which they had settled. As a child, Nancy lived in a log home, referred to as the Walton house, which sat on the corner of what is now West Main Street and Coffman Street in Flat River, now a part of the city of Park Hills. George Whaley was a farmer, and we know he cultivated corn. In addition to crops, the Whaley family also raised cattle, sourcing their own milk and butter. Click here to read an article about Aunt Nan and her memories from the Lead Belt News written in 1949. 

John Dosing Sr.

    In 1902, Nancy Jane Whaley married a man named John Dosing Sr., who was twenty-six years her elder. He was a widower, father, and stepfather. John was born on April 14th, 1844 in Schmelz, Germany, though relocated to the United States as an infant along with his parents. Here he served in the American Civil War as a member of the Union Army, with the 49th Illinois Infantry, Company G. Although being German born, John was known for his patriotism and was proud to fight for the cause. Dosing entered the service as a Private and exited as a Sergeant. He spent the rest of his career in the local lead mines, as well as being an active member of the community, local churches, and lodges. Like Aunt Nan, John was given the nickname "Uncle John". 

    Together, Nancy and John Dosing raised his children, and also adopted Nancy's niece, Alma. All children were treated as their own, and although Nancy never had any biological children, she became a wonderful and treasured mother. John Dosing Sr. passed away on October 15th, 1918 of an illness he had been battling for about three weeks. At the time of his passing, John was 74, leaving Nancy as a widow at only 48 years old. Nancy would never remarry, living out the remainder of her life, another forty years, in the home she once shared with her husband. 

    It was during these years that Aunt Nan became the figure we remember so well today. Although the only human living in the home, Nancy surely was not without company. Aunt Nan was a known animal lover, having multiple pet birds, and a dog named Prince. Some neighbors may have wished the noisy birds away, but Nancy vowed to keep and care for them, and the neighbors who loved Nancy so, simply learned to cope with the chatter. Nancy could often be seen walking the main drag in Flat River, doing her shopping. Even as she aged, she remained busy, enjoying her daily tasks. Aunt Nan fancied listening to the radio, old-style cooking, and visitors. Until her death, a portrait of her late husband hung on the wall for her to admire. By the 1950s, Nancy Jane Dosing was the only known woman in the area still receiving a pension for being the widow of the Civil War soldier.

    Nancy Jane Dosing passed away on September 15th, 1958 at the age of 88. The Dosings are buried in the Knights of Pythias Cemetery in Park Hills, Missouri (Flat River area). Their story is an interesting one and I do hope you enjoyed hearing it. Thank you for joining me on the blog and I hope you'll join me again in the future. 

    

The Old Cape Girardeau Bridge at Riverfront Bridge Park | Cape Girardeau, Missouri | Landmark Landing

Old Cape Girardeau Bridge Base at Riverfront Bridge Park, taken by Jennie Moore

        Hello friends, welcome to the blog! Today's entry is a stop Walter and I made in Cape Girardeau, Missouri a while back. Riverfront Bridge Park is at the base of what was once the Cape Girardeau Bridge and is now a scenic lookout point over the Mississippi River. Before being replaced by the Bill Emerson Memorial Bridge, the Cape Girardeau Bridge was once an engineering feat. 

    It was May 4th, 1926, when President Calvin Coolidge approved a bill to build a bridge across the Mississippi River from Cape Girardeau, Missouri to East Cape Girardeau, Illinois. It would be a continuous through truss bridge at a length of 4744.3 feet, width of 20 feet, and weighing a whopping 43,000 tons. The bridge was built by the American Bridge Company and U.G.I. Company for approximately 1.2 million dollars. Construction began in February of 1927, and the bridge was opened on September 3rd, 1928. An opening ceremony was held and attended by some 15,000 people.

Old Cape Girardeau Bridge, photographer unknown

    The Cape Girardeau Bridge served its people for three quarters of a century before being replaced by the Bill Emerson Memorial Bridge in 2003. Today, the recognizable bridge base is a quaint and enjoyable park. Walter and I enjoyed our walk and view out onto the mighty Mississippi. As a history nerd, I really appreciate that this part of the bridge was saved and made into something for the community. We will definitely be visiting this park again, perhaps with a picnic on a nice day.

A Must Stop Coffee Shop | Vintage Paris | Hollister, Missouri | Small Business Sunday

 

My hot Mocha Latte from Vintage Paris

     Hello friends, welcome back! I want to share with you a neat place Walter and I recently visited. If you know me, you know I enjoy going out for coffee as a treat. I don't drink coffee everyday, but it is something I love, and going on a coffee run is one of life's pockets of peace for me. I want to share more of my coffee stops with you on the blog, as I feel these moments are worth sharing. I'm certainly not a critic or formal reviewer of these establishments, I simply want to keep up with our dynamic of the blog including diary like content! If you ask me, a good coffee is definitely diary mention worthy. Walter is also the best partner for sharing thoughts on our drink stops, because he doesn't drink coffee, so his order always varies from mine. He is a big smoothie guy!

    Anyway, we recently traveled to the Branson, Missouri area, and had gotten into town later in the day. We found ourselves looking for something to do around 9:00pm, most places closing not long after. Bars would be open, but we were really looking for a more chill vibe after a long drive. I searched up local options, and came across a coffee shop open late in nearby Hollister called Vintage Paris! We set out on the short drive to check it out for ourselves.

    Vintage Paris is located directly across the road from the Highway 165 Scenic Overlook I've covered in a previous post, a beautiful view in the daytime! At night, Vintage Paris appears like a beacon upon the dark road of seemingly nothing. The environment is a warm one and I immediately like what I see. Walter and I went in, the interior covered in local art and antiques. Books, instruments, and games fill the space. I ordered a hot Mocha Latte, which was just beautiful. Delicious too, as I'm usually an iced girly but the cozy nighttime vibes gave me a change of heart. Walter ordered a hot chocolate, which he praised highly!

    If you're a coffee lover visiting the Branson, Missouri area, check out Vintage Paris! Even if you're not big on coffee, they have a wide selection of other drinks and pastries. The atmosphere alone is worth the visit, and the baristas were very friendly. I'm a sucker for an artsy aesthetic, and the sunflower yellow walls with a gorgeous mural is just the cherry on top. I'll be revisiting in the future, and if you visit Vintage Paris, let me know what you ordered!  

 

Visitng Blueberry Hill on the Delmar Loop | St. Louis, Missouri | Landmark Landing

 

    

    Hello everyone, welcome back to the blog! I wanted to share with y'all this really neat place I got to visit a few weeks ago called Blueberry Hill! Blueberry Hill is a restaurant and music venue club located in The Delmar Loop in St. Louis, Missouri. This was actually Walter and I's first time visiting Delmar Loop altogether, and I can't wait to go back and see more! Y'all know my best friend Aliyah, she makes a great tour guide and has found all the must see places in St. Louis. She is who took us to Blueberry Hill, and it certainly did not disappoint!

     

    Blueberry Hill was opened in the 1972 by a man named Joe Edwards, who had a vision for The Loop. The Delmar Loop had been an entertainment and commercial hub starting in the 1920s, but by the 1950s, began experiencing decline. The 1970s, and Joe Edwards, brought revitalization to The Loop, creating the popular tourist attraction we know today. The Delmar Loop prides itself in being deemed one of the "Top 10 Streets in America", and I can see why! 

 

 

    It's hard to describe the aesthetic of Blueberry Hill exactly, but in three words, I would say it is maximalist, quirky, and fun! The few photos I took doesn't even begin to cover all there is to see in this building, and I honestly wouldn't want to spoil it for you! Walking around the winding rooms and halls was the most enjoyable part for me, around every corner there is a surprise. Cases full of memorabilia, vintage items, themed decor. This place really could be considered a museum on top of everything else. Do any of my readers remember Howdy Doody? I've never seen so much of him in one place!

     I really love everything they have on display, but pictured above is what really took my breath away. In that case is Chuck Berry's guitar. If you know St. Louis and you know music, you know Chuck Berry. Blueberry Hill has several related items for fans to see, which is totally awesome if you ask me. In addition to this, St. Louis's own "Walk of Fame" exists on Delmar Loop. We stopped to see Chuck Berry's star during our walk to Blueberry Hill.

     I didn't try any food during my visit, but a friend said the pretzel bites were a good choice. We enjoyed the sound of the band coming from "The Duck Room", the live music room at Blueberry Hill. Joe Edwards, the owner, has had many impressive acts visit the Duck Room, and has met countless of notable artists. Photos of Edwards and the host of stars he's met line the walls of several rooms and hallways. That I will leave to be a surprise, because we had so much fun looking at the images one by one and I suggest you do the same. When it comes to my favorite artists, it seems that Joe has met them all. 

    I will definitely be visiting Blueberry Hill again in the future, and if you decide to visit The Delmar Loop, I suggest you make a stop to see it for yourself! My photos really don't do this place justice, and I'll try to do better when I revisit, but truly I was immersed in my experience, and I think you will be too. Thank you for visiting the blog and if you visit Blueberry Hill, please let me know your favorite thing you saw! 

     
 

Coming Home | Meeting My Biological Family After a 62 Year Mystery

     

Group photo from our first Arkansas visit! (8/24/25)

    Hello everyone! I have something to share that has been so long in the making, something incredibly close to my heart. As of late, I've been on a life changing journey that I have prayed for since childhood. Some of you who know me personally may know that one of the driving reasons behind my interest in genealogy comes from my own personal family mystery. As can be seen in my previous posts, I am extremely close with my grandparents, and based off of our relationship, some may be surprised to learn that they are actually my grandparents via adoption. I am beyond grateful to say that this has never hindered our relationship, and I couldn't have asked for better family. With that being said, I would like to open up the dialogue to tell y'all a little more about my backstory.

    Growing up, my dad never knew his biological father. In fact, it wasn't until he was a teenager that he was made aware that the man on his birth certificate and who he called "dad", was not his biological father. Thankfully, this didn't sour the relationship between the two, and my dad still shares fond memories of Charles Moore Sr. Sadly, Charles and my father's mother eventually separated, leaving my dad without a consistent father figure. This led to more questions about his biological father, especially as he grew into adulthood.

    It was my great aunt Nellie, my father's mother's sister, that had the information that my father was seeking. She shared basic information that she recalled from decades prior, as my father by this time was in his thirties. She shared a name, home state, estimated age, and a few other details, and it was from here that the search began. Aunt Nellie made a point to emphasize how much my dad favored his father, who she had met all those years ago. My father spent decades searching for his estranged biological family, to no avail. I grew up knowing about our family mystery, my dad sharing age-appropriate pieces of information over the years and carefully answering my questions. I too grew curious and wanted to know more about our roots.

    I was about thirteen or fourteen when I began my own search for answers. Newspaper clippings, phone books, and finally, an Ancestry.com account, thanks to my mom. I spent years filing through documents and directories, all the while sending message after message to strangers, all along the lines of "Do you know this person?" I too failed to make any real progress, until I was gifted a DNA test kit. Of course I was interested to learn more about my heritage, but I knew what answers I really hoped the test would bring. 

    When I received the results, my heart raced as I filed through the matches. There, I saw three close matches with the last name that Aunt Nellie had given my father in the 1990s. I knew that this had opened a new door for my dad and I. I reached out to a few of the matches, and relatives of matches via social media several times over the course of the next few years. It was this past April (2025) that the final breakthrough was made. I was in the car with my step-mom when I got a notification on Facebook Messenger. It was a member of our missing biological family, a cousin, named Mikka. She had caught wind of my search and reached out to me. She too is the granddaughter of my once mysterious paternal grandfather, named Mack. Her mother, Joan, is my dad's older sister. Joan hadn't taken a DNA test, therefor I never knew to look for her. She had slipped under my radar. Best of all, they wanted to know us. 

    I had never experienced a feeling quite like that one, it was everything I had dreamed it would be. We rushed home to the farm to tell my father the news that he had waited all of his sixty-two years for. That was the first time I've seen him shed tears of joy. I did too, and have many times since then. A couple days later, I called Joan to go over everything, as she was gracious enough to give me her phone number. This was the phone call that had played in my mind a million times over throughout my life. She met me with such kindness and warmth, I knew that my life had been forever changed. We were so quickly welcomed into the family and shown nothing but outpouring love. Most of the family lives in Arkansas, a moderate driving distance, but it was unanimously agreed to meet as soon as possible.

My Dad, cousin Brett, and I meeting for the first time (7/19/25)

    The first meeting of our new family came in July when Joan's son Brett and wife Cheyenne were visiting a local tourist town here in my father and I's home state of Missouri to celebrate their anniversary. We had decided to meet for lunch at a local favorite restaurant. Our emotions were high, I really couldn't believe this was finally happening. When the pair arrived, we were greeted with so much love and enthusiasm, I felt a joy that surpassed anything I had known before. Hugs were traded and we had so much to discuss, we had altogether forgotten we were supposed to order a meal. This day will stay so vivid in my mind.

Group photo! (7/19/25)

    From here, we knew we had to make our plans to meet Joan. Finding the time and ability to take a day off can be difficult when in the farming business, but we finally managed to make it happen this past weekend! My dad and I were up bright and early Sunday morning to make the two-and-a-half-hour drive into rural Arkansas. I was so excited I nearly sent myself into a panic attack. The drive was beautiful and flew by as we chattered about the miracle taking place. When we arrived at Joan's house, we stood there in the driveway for a moment before going to the door, absorbing the moment, reflecting, and appreciating. Somehow the sun seemed to shine brighter that day, and the colors of the world more vivid. 

My Dad and Joan! (8/24/25)

    When we reached the door, several family members met us there. Smiles, hugs, and greetings erupted. Expressions of shock due to my father's striking resemblance to Mack passed around the room. I had never been here before, but I felt as if I had just gotten home. I ran to my Aunt Joan and wrapped my arms around her at the first given chance. I worked my way around the group, finally ending with Mikka. She took me in and I let out a sigh of relief as I melted into her arms. Two more family members then arrived, Mikka's two daughters. Also there is Brett and Cheyenne, and this time we got to meet one of their sons as well! We all filed into the living area and sat in a big circle, covering sixty-two years of lost time. I looked around at everyone, and once again I struggle to find the words to describe such a feeling. Each of these people had shown up for us and met us with unconditional love, no questions asked. 

My Dad, Joan and I looking through family photos and documents. (8/24/25)

    After visiting some, Joan announced that she had made banana pudding for us all. She had no way of knowing that banana pudding is one of my dad's all-time favorite desserts, but it seems some kind of higher power had whispered in her ear. We piled into the kitchen and all had a bowl of the delicious pudding as we looked through several family photos and documents, much to my dad and I's amazement. Even a family member in Texas who couldn't be there to meet us called on FaceTime to be a part of the celebration and send us her love. I prayed that it wasn't all a dream. 

My Dad and I at Joan's, him holding a photo of his father, Mack. (Note the resemblance!) (8/24/25)

    Eventually we had to begin our haul back to Southeast Missouri, but I am already looking forward to seeing my new family again. We've already made plans for upcoming holidays and day trips. It's hard to fit a journey like this into one blog post, so I would really like to delve into things more in the future with my family's blessing. I've learned that my grandfather Mack was a vibrant character, loved by his friends and community, something I am so proud of. Mack passed away in 1986 never knowing about my father's existence, so our meeting will have to wait. Though I can't help but think that he is proudly watching over us all as we reunite and come together. 

    We still have more family to meet and lots of bonding to do, along with chasing down those ancestral roots that nearly slipped through my fingers. I'm eager to update on my journey in the future, as I fully enjoy and savor these blessings. To my newfound family, thank you for everything, and I am so happy to finally know your love. At this point in the journey, I suppose the only pivotal question I have left, is if it is too soon to say "I love you."

Solving a Missing Photo Mystery | More About My Grandpa

     First of all, I want to express my gratitude toward those of you who read my last post and shared such kind and encouraging words. I'm graciously overwhelmed by the response, and I can't tell you all how much it means to me. Each of your compliments brings me great honor, most times I can't believe they are being said about me. To say I have great friends, family, and readers is an understatement. Without those things, I believe I would find it rather difficult to write at all, even if it is a much-needed mode of therapy. I'm really grateful for your support. 

    Although I understood the direction I was meant to continue writing in, I wasn't specifically sure where to start. There is so much to cover. So many people, so many memories. Of course, I gravitated toward the idea of writing more about my grandpa, but how could I possibly fit him into one article? It simply can't be done, so I was left once again wondering where to start. Today, I got my answer. Another seemingly divine encounter with impeccable timing. 

    I've been documenting my life and travels for as long as I can remember. I've always been the friend that takes all the pictures. I call myself a "memory hoarder". It began with disposable film cameras, then a digital camera, and eventually my first iPhone. Sometimes when I wanted to capture a moment important to me, I'd ask someone to take a photo of me. I've kept as many photos as possible from throughout my life, although I was always somewhat bothered by a group of photos and videos that I had lost track of. I had taken these between the ages of 10 to 14 on my first couple of iPhones. Last I could remember, they were uploaded onto my cute yellow laptop...that I haven't seen in years. I thought about the photos fairly often and hoped they didn't get thrown out with the computer, but it wasn't looking good. Over the years I had found a couple drives, looked through the photos, no luck. I had just about given up.

    Today, my dad came over to visit me. My chronic illness has been giving me trouble, and he knows his presence is some of the best medicine. While here, he was rummaging through a drawer looking for batteries, when he pulled out a dusty CD case with two discs inside. "Jen iPhone Pics 2014" they read in black marker. I was stunned. That drawer had been blocked for some time, so I hadn't looked there for the photos. I also don't recall them being put onto discs, something my dad must've thoughtfully done before laying my old computer to rest. "I should've known you wouldn't have just chucked the computer without saving my pictures." I said to him. "Of course not." he smiled and handed me the case, along with the disc reader to use with my current laptop. 

    I had a loose idea of what some of the photos could be. Snapshots of weekends at Goose Creek, our trip to Florida, my dad and I's adventures. A while back, my dad had asked me if I still had those pictures of my grandpa and I hauling hay on the farm when I was a kid. Unfortunately, those were among the missing photos. I prayed there would be a way to recover them, as they were all the more precious now. When I popped the first disc in, I knew what I hoped I would find. The first disc I put in was actually the second disc chronologically; all of the photos being taken in 2014. I flipped through them all, happy about my finds, but not entirely satisfied. I ejected the disc and switched it out for disc one, those photos being taken in 2013. 

    I flipped through only a handful of photos before I reached what I had been searching for. The photo was even better than I remembered, showing both my grandpa and I in our tractors, side by side. It was a great wave of emotion, a true feeling of joy. I immediately sent it to my dad, who was also overjoyed. I knew then what I would write about today. 

My grandfather (Darrell Plummer) and I (Jennie Moore) hauling hay on our farm in Knob Lick, Missouri - taken summer of 2013.

    Hauling hay with my grandpa, who I always called "Papa", is among my most favorite memories. Any memory I have of us spending time together on the farm lay especially close to my heart. I was blessed with countless summer days where I tagged along with Papa to check the cattle and visit his parents who lived in the farmhouse at the time. I think even then I knew how special those moments were. He trusted me with big tasks early; he always believed in me more than I believed in myself. Maybe eleven is a bit young to be operating agricultural equipment, but he never put me in over my head. We did this many times over the years, always without incident. We worked well together, and he always had a way of knowing what I was capable of. 

   He taught me how to drive slowly and carefully, keeping an eye out for ruts in the field. There were even times where he let me sit on his lap and drive his truck in the field. I don't know what I did to deserve the honors he gave me, but I'm forever grateful he allowed me to have those experiences. 

    Today, my dad and step-mother live in the farmhouse, taking over about two years ago. That has been one of the biggest blessings in my life, without question. Often I roam the fields, reminiscing on my memories with my since passed family members. I retrace their steps, taking in the view that they too once sought refuge in. The farm holds pieces of my loved ones, as if a portion of their energy had come to stay after they left their earthly form, creating a place I could always go to feel that closeness I yearn for. Now, I walk to find my grandfather. Perhaps it is really he that finds me. Either way, I usually end my walk feeling better. 

 

    I'm really grateful we recovered the missing photos, especially the one of my Papa and I. If I could only save one photo from the bunch, it would be this one. It will likely take me tens of articles to fully tell my grandfather's story, and how much he and our relationship means to me. Now that I cannot give the love in my heart directly to him, I'm sure I will write about him for the rest of my life. Thank you for lending an ear, it means the world to me. Until next time, friends.