Many people are struggling this year, often in ways that aren’t visible to anyone else. For countless reasons, the holidays can be especially difficult, especially in the face of loss, and when grief and long-held pain rise uninvited to the surface.

Keep in mind that most people will never let on. Often plastering on their happy face or retreating into silence – especially if something painful happens. Pain doesn’t just include things that occurred recently, but can be layered over time, like a cake or an onion. And sometimes all it takes is one harsh word, or too many memories, to pull you back to that awful place.

I hope you’re not among those battling sadness or despair this holiday season. But if you are, I’ve written this article of encouragement particularly for you. That said, it applies to everyone, because we’re all human and after all, this is the holidays! Trust me – this ends on a postive note. But first, I need to explain.

When I was young, my environment was bathed in “can’t”.

You’re too young…

You’re a female, so you can’t…

Ladies don’t…

We’re not going to waste a perfectly good advanced-placement (college prep) seat on a girl…

You’re too fat, skinny… (or fill in the blank)

You can’t…

We don’t hire…

So glad you’re a female, so we can pay you less… (Yes, this really happened more than once.)

You’re not <something> enough! (Says it all!)

The voices, if there were any, saying I was good enough, smart enough, talented enough, or even simply welcome, were drowned out by the others, and the toxic culture I was steeped in, where all of this was “normal.” If any encouraging voices were there, I couldn’t hear them in the cacophony of both direct and implied criticism.

Every single one landed like a blow, bruising my heart.

People either don’t understand, or don’t care that words can cut deeper than any knife ever could. Directly into your soul. Inflicting wounds that don’t heal and instead fester over time.

Words you hear again and again when the next person says something similar. No matter how many years later.

One Voice

But there was one voice. The man who fate sent to become the wind beneath my wings. The man who secured his forever legacy through his encouragement and kindness when no one else was there.

When he uttered those life-altering words to me, I was a young, single mother, having escaped a horrifically abusive marriage and was battling my way through college by working two jobs. I was both incredibly tired and unbelievably discouraged.

I repeatedly heard “can’t”, “shouldn’t”, and saw the disapproving glances everywhere. People were incredulous that I even considered the possibility that I could or should. What was wrong with me anyway?

They were all perfectly willing to explain what I “should” be doing, “shouldn’t” be doing, or best case, treating me like I was invisible. Silence still conveys a message, but it’s one notch better than continuing to be beaten with a hammer.

I heard a lot of “If you would just…” or “You should…”

Not one person encouraged me or asked if they could help.

Except him.

God bless that man for changing my life.

The Decision

I was visiting my folks one hot August day when I was trying to make what I knew would be a life-changing decision.

No female was ever encouraged to make something better of her life, let alone move away to do so. If you absolutely HAD TO go to college, you should be a teacher or nurse, a traditional female career. Certainly NOT an engineer, scientist, or something similar. Even applying for admission to those schools earned you a battle that required a warrior to win.

I worked very hard, maintaining stellar grades despite numerous challenges, and received an offer for a professional position as a systems engineer. My dream job. That was exactly what I had worked towards. The catch was that I’d have to move out of state.

Me, and my two young children.

Alone.

I was terrified. Not that there was much support where I lived, but my folks were there, and I knew my way around. The devil you know versus one far away. In a new place, I’d literally be starting over again.

In the echo chamber of my mind, all those negative words and criticisms that I had been peppered with all of my life were bouncing around.

“You’ll never make anything of yourself.” (Teacher)

“Girls don’t become scientists. <snicker> Pick something else.” (Different teacher)

“Why would you do that to your children?” (To give them a better life, so they don’t have to deal with this.)

“Why don’t you just settle down and get married?” (Hello, I did that once already.)

“Just do what your husband says.” (Neighbor, after the police were called when the former husband beat me.)

“Why can’t you just behave?” (Family member)

“Girls like you are the reason there’s unemployment. You’re taking all the jobs that belong to men.” (Quote from my brother’s mouth. I can’t even. And no, he was not kidding.)

My Dad

The most unlikely person you’d ever expect to be an advocate in these circumstances would be an old Hoosier farmer – but there he was.

Dad, seated with Spot, Mom in blue, with her Aunt Eloise Lore about 1980

My stepfather, Dean Long.

A man of very few words. The local prankster who graduated from high school, married, and stayed on the farm. He never set foot out of Indiana until he came to visit me, button-busting proud, a year or so later – in that distant state.

That fateful day is forever burned into my mind.

I was sitting on the blue and white metal lawn furniture in the yard outside the back door on the farm, “snapping beans.” The beans were in a towel in my lap. The bucket on one side was for the ends and strings that would be fed to the hogs, and the other bucket was for the beans that would be snapped into bite-sized pieces and cooked.

Mom was inside, probably cooking.

Dad had been at the barn, doing something.

My oldest child was playing on a tree swing nearby, and the youngest was inside napping.

It was beastly hot. No AC in that farmhouse.

I was rolling the various options around in my head, like a worry stone, wrapped in my fear, uncertainty, and insecurity. I kept hearing all of those things I had been told forever, over and over again. I was terrified.

What should I do?

What if I failed?

What if something bad happened to my children?

Of course, I had a logical “answer” for each of these things, and I fully realized that the only way “out” of systemic and generational poverty was through applied education.

However, logic and emotion are two entirely different animals, and I didn’t know how much was fear. Was I being foolish? Or wise? I had no idea.

This was truly the fork in the road, and I knew it.

Based on all of those voices, it seemed like heresy to even try, but then again, how could I NOT try?

I knew that my mother did not want me to move. No one wants their child to move away. She wanted me to be happy and safe, but there, where I could snap beans on Sunday afternoon and she could watch her grandchildren play outside the window, not someplace else.

But I wasn’t safe, by any definition of the word, and neither were my children.

An entire audience of people would love to see me fail and get my “comeuppance”, being one of those “liberated women,” and all.

If I didn’t take advantage of the opportunity, fighting so hard and against nearly insurmountable odds for my education would have been for naught. All those late nights. Multiple jobs. I wasn’t fighting only for myself, but for opportunities for my children in some place where opportunity existed – which was not where I lived. I didn’t want my daughter to endure what I had – and be expected to just shut up and take it.

Haven’t our ancestors been seeking better opportunities for generations?

I certainly wasn’t the only one, but I was very alone as I sat there, mulling the options and possibilities, both positive and negative.

I had talked to my parents about my looming decision and its ramifications, but I still had no idea what to do. I knew deciding either way would change my life – my children’s lives – and probably the lives of my parents too.

Dad was walking up from the barn towards the house. The small, uneven, sidewalk had a slight incline, so he moved slowly. He always wore overalls in the barn and took them off in the mudroom, between the back step and the kitchen. There was a sink there too for washing up.

Dad walked up beside me. I looked up and smiled at him, that smile that says, “I’m smiling externally, but I’m really very torn inside.”

My eyes were probably puffy. That decision-making process was agony.

Dad stopped and said:

Bobbi, don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t do something. You can do anything you set your mind to. You’re going to change the world.

I just looked at him, incredulous and truly speechless.

In an affectionate gesture, he thunked me gently on the shoulder with his thumb in passing, then just shuffled on into the house. The screen door clacking shut behind him.

Not another word was said.

He didn’t need to say any more.

He said it all.

Hot tears streamed down my cheeks, dripping onto the beans. I didn’t know why then, but I do now.

That may well have been the first time I had ever received direct, outright encouragement from anyone. Not only that, but he had complete faith in me. Far, far more faith than I had in myself.

My Dad saved me that day.

He is directly responsible for me taking that terrifying leap into the unknown future… a journey that, step by step, year by year, led me here.

He became the wind beneath my wings and sealed his legacy that day.

So, when you have the opportunity, choose words of kindness and encouragement.

Be that wind, lifting others up.

Soar

You don’t need permission to fly.

Ignore the naysayers.

Fill your life with those who are the wind beneath your wings.

Listen for that one uplifting voice in the darkness.

That clarion call.

Everyone has wings.

A majestic eagle,

A raven carrying light into the world,

A sparrow battered by the storm,

Or a graceful butterfly.

The wings are yours.

The sky belongs to no one.

It beckons you to take flight

Even when the wind is faint

And the night feels long.

Believe you can.

Because you can

Soar!

“The Falling Stars, Nov. 13, 1833.” Bible Readings for the Home Circle, p. 323. Review and Herald Publishing Association. 1914.

Every year during meteor showers, I think of my ancestors and wonder how they interpreted the 1833 Leonid meteor super-event and how it affected them. During the night of November 12th and the early morning of November 13th, 1833, the meteor shower turned into a storm, and was known as “the night of the falling stars,” and similar descriptions.

I began this article thinking about each of my ancestors who were alive then and, based on what I know about their lives, pondering what they might have thought and how they might have reacted. Where did they watch from? How much could they see? Did it affect their lives, and if so, how?

I had no idea I had 69 ancestors who were living in 1833, so I’ve narrowed the focuse of this article to the ancestors on my father’s side, in part because we actually have a local account.

The Night the Stars Fell

Beginning late on November 12, 1833, a Tuesday, and overnight, the heavens rained meteors at a rate of from 50,000 per hour to more than 240,000 per hour.

Most meteors are actually tiny fragments of rock the size of a pebble that burn up when entering the Earth’s atmosphere, emitting colors based on their chemical composition, sometimes resulting in vibrant streaks across the sky.

By Edmund Weiß – E. Weiß: “Bilderatlas der Sternenwelt”, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=562733

Fortunately, the 1833 storm is recorded in a number of drawings, paintings, newspaper articles, journals, and oral history.

Reports varied from around the world, but the event was described as a “rain of fire,” and a “tempest of falling stars.” With thousands every minute streaking across the night sky for hours on end, meteors were also described as “falling like snowflakes from the skies.”

The meteor shower began normally around midnight, but within a couple of hours, the sky was entirely filled with a display described in the New York Evening Post as “magnificent beyond conception.”

The Leonids are caused by the Earth passing through a cloud of space debris in the tail of Comet 55P/Temple-Tuttle, but people had no idea at the time. They thought the stars were literally falling out of the sky. Never before had there been a meteor shower of this magnitude, and it was frightening. Why was it happening?

Was it supernatural?

Was it God speaking?

Was it a prophecy?

Was it a warning?

Was it an answer?

Was the earth about to end?

Was Judgement Day here?

So many questions, with everyone left to decide the answers for themselves.

The most common reaction was fear and dread. Many people believed the end-times was approaching or had arrived, or the display was a sign of prophecy, as noted in this article by the Joseph Smith Foundation.

Some cultures measured time from that event of historic proportions.

For example, the Lakota marked time by the Leonids, but the 1833/1834 winter event was astounding, as detailed here. Battiste Good was the Lakota winter count-keeper, and recorded the meteor shower as the single event that would define that year in Lakota history.

The Library of Congress wrote an interesting blog article about the 1833 Leonid shower, or storm, that you can read, here.

Mary A. Hansard from Tazewell, Tennessee

Mary Hansard was born in 1825, died in 1899 in Claiborne County, Tennessee. She wrote a book, Old Time Tazewell, detailing local history. Cousin Travis Chumley extracted Mary’s entry about the Leonid meteor shower of 1833, and posted this excerpt in his historical Appalachian series.

In the year 1833 a most remarkable phenomenon occurred. I suppose that it is recorded in history. It was called the falling of the meteors. It happened in the night, and as I was only a small child, I was not an eyewitness to the awful scene. I heard my parents and others describe it next morning, as being the most awful sight that was ever looked upon with mortal eye. They said that the firmament on high was one solid glare of fire and light, and it looked as though every star in the sky was falling to the ground, and that they were certain the Day of Judgment was at hand. There were many wicked men on their knees that night praying to the Lord, and calling on others to pray for them, that had never been known to bow in prayer before. Such wild confusion had never been seen in Tazewell before. Next morning after all was over there seemed to be a solemn gloom resting on everyone’s countenance. It seemed that they were expecting more to occur. But everything moved on as usual. But I do not suppose that the scenes of that night were ever erased from the memory of those that were eye witnesses to the frightful event.

Where Were Our Ancestors?

I wondered where my ancestors lived in November of 1833. How old were they, and what did they think?

Were they frightened, as Mary Hansard reported, or perhaps enchanted?

My great-great-grandparents’ generation was living at the time, as were some of their parents, along with a few grandparents. In some cases, three generations were alive, and only three more would have brought the story to my father’s generation. How I wish they had kept a diary, but many couldn’t read or write. They probably told the story for a generation or two, until it was lost in time.

The Cumberland Gap Contingent

My father’s family was from the Cumberland Gap region, which includes families that lived in Claiborne County, Tennessee, Hancock County, Tennessee, which was formed from Claiborne in 1844, and Lee County, Virginia. Many lived in the Powell River Valley, shown above from the summit atop the Cumberland Gap.

• John Y. Estes, Civil War Veteran, was born in 1818 in Halifax County, Virginia, to John R. Estes and Nancy Ann Moore, but had moved with his family to Claiborne County as a child. In 1833, he was 15 years old and living either in Estes Holler, near today’s Pleasant View Church, or across the Clinch River in Grainger County. There are no existing church records from nearby churches from this period, and there’s nothing to indicate that this family was particularly religious, so perhaps John was awakened and called outside by his parents to stare up at the sky in awe, side by side with his siblings.

• John R. Estes, War of 1812 veteran, was born around 1787 in Halifax County, VA to George Estes and Mary Younger. He moved his family to the new frontier in Claiborne County, Tennessee about 1820. In 1826, he obtained land someplace close to the Indian Boundary line, but it’s unclear if he ever actually lived on that land. In 1833, a few years shy of 50 years old, he was probably living in Estes Holler, and would have witnessed the meteor shower in the skies between the mountain ridges, accompanies by his wife, Nancy Ann Moore, and their nine children. In Halifax County, John was probably a Methodist, since his father-in-law was a Methodist minister.

• Nancy Ann Moore was born about 1785 in Virginia to the Reverend William Moore and Lucy, whose surname is unknown. Nancy Ann made the trek to Claiborne County with her husband and oldest five children around 1820. They settled someplace along Little Sycamore Road, probably in what would come to be known as Estes Holler, shown above. Did she gather her children close, fearing the worst? Her father was a Methodist minister, so she had assuredly grown up hearing the prophecies of Judgement Day.

Methodists, caught in the Second Great Awakening, interpreted the dramatic 1833 Leonid meteor shower as a powerful sign of Jesus’s Second Coming and the End Times, fulfilling Bible prophecies that stars would fall from heaven, sparking intense spiritual fervor, fear of judgment, and many conversions.

• John Y. Estes’s wife, Martha “Ruthy” Dodson was born in 1820 in Alabama to Lazarus Dodson and Elizabeth Campbell. We believe that Ruthy’s mother died before 1830, when her father, Lazarus Dodson, brought his children back to Claiborne County, TN. In the 1830 census, Ruthy’s Campbell grandparents have four young children living with them. In 1833, Ruthy would have been 13 and would either have been terrified or fascinated by the night sky show. Did she equate the meteor shower with a message from her mother?

• Lazarus Dodson (Jr.) was born around 1795 in Hawkins County, TN to Lazarus Dodson (Sr.) and Jane, whose surname is unknown. By 1833, he had returned from Alabama with his children after his wife, Elizabeth Campbell, died. By 1833, he would have been about 38 years old and was living just below Cumberland Gap on Gap Creek Road, now Tipprell Road. He was involved in the founding of Gap Creek Church, above. Interestingly, in 1833, he sold his land to David Cottrell and moved to Pulaski County, KY – although we don’t know when that move took place because those records are anything but clear. We will never know, of course, but I wonder what the meteor shower would have looked like from the Pinnacle of Cumberland Gap, directly above his land, some 2400 feet above sea level, and probably more than 1000 feet above his home. If I had been Lazarus, I would have ridden to the top to take a look for myself.

• We know that Lazarus Dodson Jr’s father died in 1826, but his mother, Jane, whose surname is unknown, was born about 1760 and died sometime between 1830 and 1840, probably in McMinn County, TN. It’s unclear when Jane was living in Claiborne County, where she would have attended Gap Creek Church, just down the holler, or was living in McMinn County. In 1833, if she were living, she would have been in her 70s and most likely residing with one of her children. I wonder how she would have interpreted this heavenly spectacle from her view overlooking the road descending from Cumberland Gap. The Cottrell cemetrey above, now on LMU land, was once theirs. Were some people so fearful that they had heart attacks and died?

• Elizabeth Campbell died before 1833, but her parents John Campbell and Jane “Jenny” Dobkins were still living. John Campbell was born about 1772 in Hawkins County, TN, moved to Claiborne County about 1802 and set up housekeeping on what is today Little Sycamore Road, right beside the Liberty Baptist Church. While Liberty had not yet been established at that time, there is a long-lost Baptist church back on Little Ridge, shown above, behind his house shown in the holler. Everyone in the neighborhood would have attended there. In 1833, John was about 50 and, like his neighbors, was a farmer. Was he wondering if the meteors were hitting the ground and damging his crops, or was he worrying about something different entirely?

• Jane “Jenny” Dobkins was born around 1780 in Dunsmore County, VA to Jacob Dobkins and Dorcas Johnson. She married John Campbell around 1795 in Hawkins County, TN. As newlyweds, they moved to Claiborne County where, by 1833, at 53, she was raising her orphaned Dodson grandchildren in the log cabin portion of the home above, plus three of her own children who were still at home. What did Jenny tell her young grandchildren? Did she explain the phenomenon in terms of religion, or perhaps reassure them that their mother was looking over them?

• Jacob Dobkins was a Revolutionary War Veteran who had been an Indian Scout on the frontier, barely escaping death. He was born about 1751 in Augusta County, VA, but was one of the first settlers in Claiborne County after the county was formed, obtaining prime farmland along the Powell River. In 1833, he would have been in his early 80s, maybe 82 or 83, and after what he had gone through in the war, I imagine nothing much phased him.

• Dorcas Johnson was born around 1750, but much about her early life remains a mystery. She married Jacob Dobkins, setting out to homesteaded in the State of Franklin, then Jefferson County, TN, and then in a small log cabin, in Claiborne County around 1802. The cabin is shown above before it was dismantled. Dorcas was clearly one formidable woman. In March of 1833, at age 83ish, she was a sworn chain carrier for her grandson’s survey. After everything she had survived, she probably took a look at the meteors, thought, “Wow, those are cool,” peacefully enjoyed them for a while sitting on her porch in a rocking chair before going inside and back to bed. A few little meteors, or a lot, weren’t going to ruffle this woman’s feathers. Nosireee…

• Joel Vannoy was born in 1813 in Claiborne County. He grew up in the portion that is now Hancock County, near the intersection of Little Sycamore and Mulberry Gap Roads, shown above. In 1833, Joel was 20 and still living at home, farming with his father, Elijah Vannoy on very steep, rocky terrain, on the side of Wallen Ridge. In his adult life, Joel struggled with mental health issues with symptoms that suggest paranoid schizophrenia. Given his challenges later in life, and that his diagnosis was “preachin’, swearin’ and threatenin’ to fight,” I can’t help but wonder how he interpreted the meteor sky show.

• Elijah Vannoy was born about 1784 in Wilkes County, NC, married Lois McNiel, then moved across the mountains to Claiborne County, TN in about 1812. They settled on Mulberry Creek, with Elijah doing all of the normal pioneer things, like serving as a juror at court. However, beginning around 1820, Elijah began experiencing difficulties and lost his land entirely in 1834. So, in 1833, Elijah would have been struggling terribly and may have suffered from the same mental illness that his son would later exhibit. Elijah would have watched the meteors with Joel, and Lois if she was still living, along the rest of their nine children. He may well have believed the world was ending, because in a sense, his was. It’s beyond me how he managed to farm this incredibly steep land.

• Phebe Crumley was born in 1818 in either Greene County or Claiborne County, TN to William Crumley the third and Lydia Brown. In 1833, she was 16 and living with her parents, either in Pulaski County, KY, or near Blackwater, on the Lee County/Claiborne County line. We have no records of the family’s involvement with a church, but many people joined churches in response to the meteors. Regardless, she would have told stories about that night into the late 1800s, before her death in 1900.

• William Crumley the third, a War of 1812 veteran, was born in 1788 in Frederick County, VA, to William Crumley II and a woman whose name is unknown, but who had died by 1817 when his father remarried. William sold his land in Green County in 1822, was in Pulaski County, KY before 1830, and was living near Mulberry Gap Church, shown above, in Claiborne, now Hancock County, near or just over the Lee County, VA border, not long after.

• William Crumley II was born about 1767 in Frederick County, VA, but had moved to the Territory South of the Ohio by about 1793, then to Greene County, TN by about 1795. He was probably raised as a Quaker, but as an adult, worshipped as a Methodist and helped establish Wesley’s Church in Greene County in 1797. His exact path to Lee County, Va, just across the border from Claiborne/Hancock County, TN is uncertain, mostly due to the fact that both he and his son had the same name. Regardless, it appears that in 1830, this William was living in Lee County, VA, near Blackwater, shown above. Would his religious leanings have influenced his interpretation of the meteor storm?

Some Quakers viewed the meteor shower as a Divine sign. Others encouraged scientific observation, and recognized it as a natural phenomenon, but still emphasized its spiritual meaning as an “inner light.”

• Margaret Herrell was born about 1810 in Wilkes County, NC, to William Herrell and Mary McDowell. Her parents moved to the border region between Lee County, VA, and Claiborne County, TN on the Powell River by 1812. The Herrel land is shown above. In 1833, Margaret would have been 23 years old and had been married since about 1829. Her first child was born in early 1830, and her second known child arrived sometime in 1833. It’s quite interesting that on Sunday, December 1, 1833, Margaret was “received by experience,” into the Thompson Settlement Baptist Church. This means Margaret had undergone some sort of religious awakening, was baptized in the cold Powell river, and joined the church. Given that the sky rained stars just two and a half weeks earlier, I would be surprised if those two events weren’t connected. Margaret probably interpreted the meteor shower as a divine event, which convinced her to join the closest church, some 15 miles distant.

Baptists interpreted the brilliant meteor shower as awe-inspiring display by God that indicated fulfillment of the Biblical prophecy, specifically Matthew 24:29 and Revelation 6:13, signaling the imminent Second Coming of Christ and the End Times, which created a sense of urgency.

William Miller, who founded a sect called the Millerites, was a Baptist preacher who predicted that the end of the world would occur around 1843-1844. The “stars falling” became a key piece of evidence for his followers.

• William Herrell, a War of 1812 veteran, was born around 1790 in Wilkes County, NC, and had moved his family to the northern-most portion of Claiborne County, TN before 1812. In 1833, William was about 43 years old and was living in a location on the Powell River known as Herrell’s Bend. One of the Herrell homes is shown above. William is quite the quandary, because while the meteor shower caused many people to reassess their lives, not so with William. In the 1830 census, William did not own any other humans, but William’s son, named Cannon, was born to an enslaved girl, Harriett, about November 1834, or perhaps somewhat earlier. William continued to have a “black wife” and a “white wife” for the rest of his life, living on opposite sides of his property and traveling back and forth between the two. Members of both families recount that he would live with one until she got mad at him, then go live with the other one until the same thing happened there too. However, there are no other known children borne by Harriett – so perhaps the meteor shower instilled at least a little fear of God in William. Or, maybe Harriett had children that died, or were sold.

• Mary McDowell was born around 1785 in Wilkes County, NC, to Michael McDowell and Isabel, whose last name is not known. By 1833, Mary was living with her husband, William Herrell, five of her six known children ranging in age from 17 down to four, plus an enslaved girl, Harriett, also about 16 or 17, who gave birth to her husband’s child. There’s no possible way that either Mary or Harriett were happy with the situation, but neither of those women had any agency to do anything about it either. How did either, or both of them, interpret the meteor shower? Did that night sky display have anything to do with why William never fathered another child with Harriett, and perhaps why he built her a house? After Harriett’s death between 1840 and 1850, Mary raised Harriett’s son, Cannon, as her own, and as an adult, Cannon took care of Mary and his half-sister, who never married. The Herrell Cemetery, near their homes, with many unmarked graves, is shown above.

• Michael McDowell was born about 1747, probably in Botetourt County, Virginia. After serving in the Revolutionary War, he settled in Wilkes County, NC, then, in 1809 or 1810, he forged on with the Herrell family to Claiborne County, TN. Michael settled on a peninsula of extremely rugged land in the Powell River aptly named Slanting Misery, shown above, looking towards the Claxton land across the Powell River. In 1832, when Michael applied for a Revolutionary War Pension, one of his witnesses was the Reverend James Gilbert of the Thompson Settlement Church, with whom Michael says he has a good relationship. By the time 1833 rolled around, Michael was 86 years old and still living on his relatively inaccessible, mountainous land. He was clearly thinking about the afterlife, though, because Michael deeded his land to two male McDowell men that year, “for love,” who are presumed to be sons or close family members. We don’t know whether the land transfer occurred before or after the meteor shower, because, of course, that deed book is missing. If Michael thought God was coming for him immediately upon seeing the stars falling, he was mistaken. He didn’t pass away until July of 1840 and may have been living with the Reverend Nathan S. McDowell at the time.

• Isabel, spelled Isbell, whose surname we don’t know, was born around 1753, probably in Virginia. She and Michael McDowell settled for some time in Wilkes County, NC but Michael was a bit of a rabble-rouser, and by 1810 or so, they headed over the mountains to Claiborne County, TN. Isabel was about 60 by then, and in 1833, she would have been 80ish. In the 1830 census, a female, age 70-80 is living with Michael, and in 1840, it looks like Isabel is living with her daughter, Mary McDowell Herrell. Isabel’s children were all married by 1833 of course, except for her youngest daughter, Sally, born before 1790, who never married. No church records exist, but we do know that Nathan S. McDowell, her probable son or family member, was a minister in Claiborne County at the Big Springs Baptist Church, above, and was reported to have a “very crabbed disposition.” Closer to home, Isabel’s husband was close to the Reverend James Gilbert of the Thompson Settlement Church. I bet the discussions in November of 1833 were interesting in those mountains, especially if the interpretations of the two ministers didn’t quite align.

• Samuel Claxton/Clarkson, a Civil War veteran, was born in 1827 in Claiborne County, TN, near the Harrells and McDowells, on Claxton Bend in the Powell River. In 1833, he would have been only 6 years old and may have stared at the Heavens in awe. He would have taken his cues in terms of “meaning” from his parents, Fairwick/Fairwix Claxton and Agnes Muncy, and the other adults around him. Samuel died a protracted, miserable death 43 years later as a result of his service in the war, and I hope that he was at least able to regale his children with stories about how the stars fell plum out of the sky one winter night a long time ago.

• Fairwix Claxton was born around 1799 in Claxton Bend on the Powell River to James Lee Clarkson/Claxton and Sarah Cook. By 1833, he was married with five children. Fairwix and his siblings were trying to sort out his father’s land, above, on which his mother was still living. Estates can bring out the worst in people. Perhaps the meteor shower served as a stark reminder that Divinity is watching and was a wake-up call to whoever needed a rather remarkable reminder to be kind. Fairwick did not join a church until 1851.

• Sarah Cook was born about 1775 in Russell County, VA where she met and married her husband, James Lee Clarkson/Claxton. They moved down the mountain range, settling along the Powell River, above, where she had eight children before James’s death in the War of 1812. Sarah never remarried and conducted business as any man of her time. By 1833, Sarah would have been about 58 years old, with two young adult children yet unmarried. She lived among and near the rest of her children and grandchildren on Claxton land. There is no evidence of a church affiliation. Sarah was very much a no-nonsense woman, so perhaps she thought that all of the superstition was bunk, and falling stars were simply that, stunningly beautiful, awe-inspiring, falling stars. The Claxton land looking across the Claxton Cemetery from the road, above.

• Agnes Muncy was born in 1803, probably in Virginia to Samuel Muncy and Anne Nancy Workman. Agnes married Fairwick Claxton about 1819 or 1820 and they settled at Claxton Bend on the banks of the Powell River, near the Lee Co., VA, border with Claiborne County, TN. In her early life, Agnes probably attended the Thompson Settlement Church, as many of her neighbors and family members did. Something happened in September or October of 1833, perhaps a revival or “Camp Meeting”, although those were normally held in August, that caused a large number of people to join Thompson Settlement “by experience.” Perhaps, for these folks, the meteor shower was a “thank goodness” or maybe a confirmation of their choice. Later in life, Agnes was one of the founders of Rob Camp, a church located closer to where she lived.

• Samuel Muncy was probably born around 1765, give or take a few years in either direction, in Montgomery County, VA. His twisty turny path would eventually take him to Lee County, and then by 1800 on the Powell River on the North side of Wallen’s Ridge, shown above. By 1833, Samuel, then 68 or 70, joined the Thompson Settlement Church on November 1^st. This would have made more sense had it been December 1^st. Obviously, Samuel had been thinking about the hereafter – and the meteor shower probably confirmed whatever spurred him to join the church.

• Anne Nancy Workman was born between about 1761, probably in York Co., PA on Walker’s Creek. By 1788, she was marrying Samuel Muncy in Montgomery County, VA. Along with Samuel’s parents, the newlyweds hitched up the wagon, loaded with their possessions, and moved on down the Appalachian Range to Lee County, VA. We know the identity of three of Anne’s children, all of whom stayed in the Powell River/Wallen’s Ridge area of Lee County and Claiborne Co., TN. On September 1, 1833, Anne Workman was baptized in the Powell River, shown above, and joined Thompson Settlement “by experience,” a month before her husband joined, along with two of her three known children. A few weeks later, when the meteors appeared in the sky, they all probably heaved a sigh of relief because they knew that when the Rapture occurred, as the meteors were assuredly prophesying, they were saved.

• Nicholas Speaks, a War of 1812 veteran, was born about 1782 in Charles County, MD. Ironically, he was born Catholic, although someplace along the way, he became a Methodist. He moved with his father to Rowan Co., NC, then Iredell County, where he was orphaned. Nicholas wound up in Washington County, VA where he met and married Sarah Faires. Two decades later, they made their way to Lee County, VA to establish a Methodist Church on Glade Branch, now Speaks Branch. By 1833, their older children had married, but other than their eldest, remained nearby. Their youngest child was seven. Given Nicholas’s unquestionable devotion, I would presume that he interpreted the meteor shower as a Biblical or Divine message and as the fulfillment of Biblical prophecy. Given his Catholic upbringing, I wonder if he automatically crossed himself occasionally, “just in case”, especially in times of intense emotion. Did he remember that ancient Catholic traditions link the August Perseids meteors, the Tears of St. Lawrence, to martyrdom? After the 1833 meteors made their appearance, Nicholas probably fervently prepared his parishioners in this beautiful little white church for the imminent arrival of Judgement Day. I would love to sit in those wooden pews to hear his message.

• Sarah Faires was born about 1786 in Washington County, Virginia where she married Nicholas Speaks in 1804. In 1823, they packed a wagon and moved to the next frontier, where they built a one-room cabin, shown above in the 1970s before the wood was salvaged and incorporated into a newer cabin. By 1828, Nicholas had established what is now called the Speaks Chapel Methodist Church. When the meteor shower occurred in 1833, Nicholas had been preaching for at least five years, but probably closer to 13. Sarah may have felt that God was answering a prayer, but which prayer, for what, and in what way? Maybe she had prayed for her oldest son, Charles, to return home from Henry County, Indiana so he could be with the family when the end came – a prayer that was answered.

Henry County, Indiana

• Elizabeth “Betty” Speaks, shown above with her husband, Samuel Claxton, was born in July of 1832, probably in Henry County, Indiana to Charles Speak/Speaks and Ann McKee. Elizabeth would only have been 16 months old when the meteor shower occurred, so probably slept through the entire thing.

• Charles Speaks was born about 1804 in Washington County, VA to the Methodist minister, Nicholas Speak/Speaks and Sarah Faires. In 1823, when Charles was 19, his family made their way to Lee County, Virginia, and settled on Glade Branch where the family built what is today the Speak Chapel Methodist Church. Given that daughter, Elizabeth, is recorded as having been born in Indiana, and Charles is found in Henry County, Indiana in the 1830 census, it’s certainly possible that Charles and his family were not in Virginia in 1833. He had returned by 1839 when Nicholas Speak deeded the church’s land to the church’s trustees, and Charles is listed as one. Regardless of where Charles lived in 1833, given his religious convictions, the meteors probably moved him deeply. It may even have been what prompted Charles to pull up stakes and move his family back to Virginia where he spent the remainder of his days before joining other family members in the Speaks Cemetery, above.

• Anne McKee was born about 1805 in Washington County, VA, to Andrew McKee and Elizabeth, whose surname is unknown, and was probably living in Henry County, in East-central Indiana, in 1833. Anne converted from Presbyterianism to Methodism when she married Charles Speak. At that time, the Presbyterians looked down on the Methodists for their “emotional exhorting,” which probably became even more pronounced in November of 1833. Anne had six children between the ages of 16 months and nine years. Her older children would have been quite curious about the stars falling from the sky, especially if they heard the accompanying cracks, pops, and whistles. Perhaps Anne explained that God was speaking to them.

The Virginia Contingent

• George Estes, a three-time Revolutionary War veteran, was born in 1763 in Amelia County, VA, but had moved to Halifax County with his parents as a child. In 1833, he was 70 years old and must certainly have been in awe of the night sky. Never had he seen anything like this in his seven decades upon the earth. Several of George’s children lived on his or adjacent land, on what is now known as Estes Street in South Boston, Virginia, shown above, across from the Oak Ridge Cemetery which was originally part of his land. George’s daughter and her five children were probably living with him. Did they come and wake their grandfather, or did he learn about the celestial show the next morning and then watch on the following night to see if there was going to be a repeat performance?

• Joseph Preston Bolton was born in 1816 in Giles County, VA to Henry Bolton and Nancy Mann. In 1833, he would have been 17, still living with his parents, and had not yet married. Joseph assuredly attended the local Baptist church that his father had helped found, and where his brother-in-law was the minister. What did Joseph think about the “falling stars”? Nestled between mountain ranges near Fincastle, VA, shown above, was he able to see the full display, or was some of it obscured by forest, mountains or clouds?

• Henry Bolton was born in 1759 in London, England, became an indentured servant upon arrival in the colonies, and served in the Revolutionary War, reportedly caring for George Washington’s horse. By the 1830 census, he had moved from Botetourt County, VA a few miles away to Giles County, where he was living in 1833. We know Henry had a Bible, because he recorded genealogical events there. It was reported that Henry was a member and deacon of the Mill Creek Baptist Church, above, near Fincastle, VA, where his son-in-law was a minister. In 1833, Henry was 74 years old, but still had several children living at home. Did the entire family gather at the church during or after the meteor storm? Did they believe, as many did, that the End Times was approaching and the stars were omens?

• Nancy Mann was born about 1780 and married the older Henry Bolton as his second wife in 1798 while living in Botetourt County. By 1833, they were living in Giles County on today’s heavily forested Stoney Creek Road. Nancy was 53, and her youngest of 14 children was 7 years old. Although meteors had been falling for time immemorial, nothing in recorded history, before or since, has rivaled the “night of the falling stars” that Nancy and her children would have witnessed.

• Ann McKee’s mother, Elizabeth, whose surname we don’t know, was born about 1767, probably in Virginia. Based on the fact that Ann’s family was Presbyterian, her mother probably was as well. It would be very unusual for a mother to be a different religious denomination from the rest of her family. We know that Ann was living in 1830, but either deceased or living with one of her children by 1840. In 1833, she would have been about 60 and enjoying her grandchildren. Perhaps they all watched out the window of this old frontier “station” together and then later loved hearing their grandmother retell the story, over and over, of the night the stars fell from the sky.

Presbyterians, like other denominations, interpreted the incredibly rare and intense storm as the literal fulfillment of the Biblical prophecy of “stars falling from Heaven.” Many churches and groups of people held impromptu prayer meetings, believing they would not live to see morning.

In New Salem, Illinois, a devout Presbyterian deacon named Henry Onstot ran to alert his 24-year-old neighbor, pounded on his door, and urgently awakened him, declaring “Arise, Abraham – the day of judgment has come.”

Alarmed, Abraham lept out of bed and rushed to the window. Through the breath-taking meteor shower, he spotted the constellations, and realized that, indeed, the world was fine because the constellations were still in place.

Who was Abraham? Why, the future President, Abraham Lincoln, who concluded that the display was simply meteors. The spectacular event impressed Lincoln deeply though, because during the Civil War, he used the meteor shower as a metaphor for the Union itself, opining that beneath the chaos and falling fire of battle, the foundation remained solid and unchanged, and would endure.

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