Whitesburg KY

Poem tells about brother, sister



I found this poem the other day in Mom’s keepsakes. It was written by my dad many years ago. It was written about his brother Hubert Tackett and his sister Yvonne Tackett Hall. They were the three children that hung together on their homeplace on Caryville Mountain in Campbell County, Tenn. Their baby sister Esther Tackett Wagner was born after them but she was too young to go on their adventures in Caryville.

My Brother, Sis and Me

By Marshel Tacket

One day when I went walking

Out there among the trees

I wished to breathe the mountain air

And set my mind at ease.

As I ravel through my thoughts of yesteryear

It quickly brought a smile

I felt the presence of someone special

So I sat down for a while.

Flowers bloomed all around me

Birds sang in every chord

I knew this someone special

Was the presence of the Lord

So I let go of my thinking

And reminisced for a while



About the days of yesteryear

When I was but a child.

My eyes saw things I’d long forgot

In the hills of Tennessee

How we went barefoot on plowed ground

My brother, sis and me

We’d count the nest of each bird we’d find

It filled our hearts with glee

We’d count the eggs and wait their hatch

My brother, sis and me.

I noticed the gate post was leaning

I’d never noticed it before.

Where were the hinges that held the gate

In the days before the war?

Could it be there was no gate,

That it had decayed and fallen down

Again I looked and said it could be true

For the gate was lying on the ground.

Decayed and battered from wind and rain

And faded from the use of many years

I knew at last that time had woven its web

And I could not hold back the tears

Our first house was made of logs

And had a big rock chimney

It was home to five other kids

Vada Toler is pictured with her grandsons, Zaniel Branham and Canaan James Holbrook.

Vada Toler is pictured with her grandsons, Zaniel Branham and Canaan James Holbrook.

And my brother, sis and me.

Our only road was just a path

Climbing up and down every ledge

And if we moved anything from place to place

We always used a sled.

How could anyone be more rich

Or that matter, more free

Than three children on a remote rocky mountain farm


In the hills of Tennessee?

Three kittens followed us

Every step we took from home

For they represented all our earthly treasures

For they were all our very own

The dog, he barked

And we all ran to him with glee

Sis took hold of a big grapevine

And shook a possum from a tree

As we walked that day among the trees

My brother, sis and me

Then I arose and looked around

Light rain began to fall

The sun had sunk low in the west

And the birds had ceased to call

‘Twas then I learned I’d spend the day

Just reminiscing of the past

But when my mind returned to present times

I should have known it could not last.

There was no bells up in the fields

Where once we kept our cow

No oil lamps upon their bench

No horse to pull the plow

No rainy day to rat the crib

Or to hide among the shucks

No soap to make, no hogs to kill

To blow bladders from their guts.

How could it be that Mom was old

And Dad not far behind?

Their coal black hair had turned to gray

No doubt that some was mine.

Look up old man, a voice did say

Although they’re old and bent

They could have been like others

For which my angels went

To call away both Mom and Dad

While in their youthful days

Then you wouldn’t have had those memories

To feast upon today.

So as we feast let us never forget

The things we had on a rocky farm in Tennessee

The joy we shared, the love we had

My brother, sis and me.

Although we can’t go back again

And hear the cowbells ring

I’ll be content that God does allow

To do the next best thing.

With Thanksgiving coming up I thought this would be an appropriate poem for the column. I know one of the things we are most thankful for this year is our family and especially our precious mommy, Dorothy Pennington Tacket.

Another blessing we are thankful for this year is my sister Delores Holbrook’s new grandson. He was born this past Friday, Oct. 26. Believe it or not he weighed 10 pounds and 14 ounces. He is already wearing three-month-old baby clothes.

His maternal grandmother is Vada Toler. His paternal grandparents are Kenneth and Delores Holbrook. His parents are Steven and Chasity Holbrook. He also has a big brother, Zaniel Branham. I can’t wait to get to hold him.

My three sisters, brother, and I were all born within six and a half years, so we were very close. When we were growing up we always had somebody to play with. We also had all the kids in the hollow if we got tired of on another. We spent most of our time playing in the woods up and down Cane Hollow. We had trees and tree stumps named. One was hollowed out deep enough for us to pretend it was a kettle for brewing up leaves, sticks, buckeyes, acorns, and such. My sister Lucille used this for her witch’s brew. Like Dad’s words in the poem, most of the time we were barefoot and actually it was easier to climb up the side of the hill that way. Actually, I can’t remember wearing shoes until we had to go somewhere.

I want to ask everyone again to continue praying for our friend and rec center workout buddy, Scarlett Coots. There are still lots of benefits going on to help her with all the cancer costs. Also, remember our friend Earle Bone with cancer. Then, there’s my Aunt Linda with major complications with diabetes. Also, remember the Blair family and all the others who have recently lost loved one, especially my pastor, Bill Jones and his wife Sandy.

Oh how I would love to be able to read Oma’s column just one more time and read her famous ending; don’t forget to go to church this Sunday, and if your church has services throughout the week and on Sunday evening you know God wants you there then, too.

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