First Place: Hannah Elizabeth Wilson - Middle School
The Beeler Home Place, Bradfordsville
I remember as a child going up to the old house where my Great Aunt Alice Faye lived. She still lives there, and we go up from time to time. There was and is always something cooking in her kitchen. Pintos and cornbread, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans—always something. This just one of the few memories that will remain of the old white house across the river.
The house was built around 1870. The Beelers came to Kentucky and moved in 1888, as recorded in the family Bible. My great-grandfather inherited the property after his father, who was a doctor, passed away in the year 1931. “Papaw,” to the family, occupied the house alone until he met my great-grandmother. They had eight children, the third child, Elizabeth, is my grandmother.
The Beeler home was somewhat of a community center as well as home. All of the community kids came there to play eat and grow together during the Great Depression. My grandmother tells of times as a little girl, one story in particular with great enthusiasm. When she was 11 or 12 years old there was a rooster that flogged the kids when they went to feed the chickens up on the hill. Nan says that one day the rooster tried to flog her and smothered it with a bucket. Once she knew the chicken was dead, she stood up and threw the old rooster over the bluff. Unfortunate for the rooster…the community of children did not conduct a funeral on the staircase of the big white house for him as they usually did for dead pets.
My mother also has fond memories of the old home. When she was small, the grandkids would get together at the grandparents house to play. Granny, Papaw’s wife, would hide in the living room with a “false face” on and scare people as they ran through to the kitchen. Mom tells that with a smile, laughing like Granny did after she successfully frightened every child in the house.
Over the decades the Beeler house served as “home” to many people. When a big storm would come, families of the community would gather into the house for shelter until the storm passed by. Some were afraid for their life and felt protected being near my Great Grandfather because he was so God fearing. A traveling minister also stayed for weeks at a time in the house and there is still a room there today called “Brother Baker’s” room.
If only the walls, and the floors could talk. What would they say? Would they speak of times long ago, when folks rode in horse and buggy? Would it tell of the day Papaw Beeler passed away while working in his garden, or the day my grandmother was born—September 1, 1936? What about all those long hot days stripping tobacco in the old black barn? Then coming in to a good family Bible reading, and hot coffee.
Traditions stay with the Beeler family and the white house for generations. Ever since I can remember, “Santa” visits the home every year on Christmas Eve Night. My great aunt Nancy was Santa until she passed away from Lou Gehrig’s disease in 2005. Now my grandmother has taken over. “Santa” always brings presents to the littlest members of the family. Everyone else drinks their punch (made from ice cream and ginger ale), and watches the kids faces light up as they sit in Santa’s lap.
On more than one occasion I have rounded up my guitar and headed to the Beeler home on a Sunday afternoon. Most of the time there is someone else already there so they just join right in the singing. Gospel hymns are what we do best on. Songs like, “When We All Get to Heaven” and “Send the Light”.
Every birthday party is held at the home because my Aunt Al makes the absolute best chocolate cake in the world. There is an old piano in one of the back rooms, and I usually play happy birthday while everyone else sings along.
The Beeler house stands there just like it has for well over one hundred years like a light in the Rocky Ford community. I just cannot imagine driving up the road and not seeing it looming in the distance, across the river sitting under the hill. This home defines who I am in so many ways and so many others too I am sure.
There is a definite feeling of contentment you have when you’re at the old house. So much history there, so much happiness. This old home place reminds us of yesteryear when family, God, and home was what it was all about. It still is all about these things in the Beeler house. It’s the memories of this house, and the people that have stayed there that give it its spirit. The spirit of a true home.
This essay and photograph are the property of Preservation Kentucky, Inc. and Kentucky Heritage Council and that any use of the photo or essay must be approved by PK and KHC.