Values best define the Cumberland Homesteads

Homestead values are as solid as the landmark tower.

My childhood was a heaping dose of values and character-building. I wouldn’t change a thing.

My older sister and I drove by Homestead Elementary the other day and got to talking about the school, in particular it’s reputation back in the day. Students from Homestead were generally considered hard workers and well-behaved, a reputation that persists to this day, says my sister, a retired Cumberland County schoolteacher.

I sort of idly wondered why that was while mentally recalling my days at Homestead Elementary. I remembered teachers being mostly kind but also strict and ready with the discipline. Down at the junior high (grades 6-8) boys wore their shirttails tucked into their pants — no exceptions — and if you played any kind of ball your hair was kept short — no exceptions.

It was the late 1960s and early 1970s and both in my house and my school, men’s hair was a symbol of the old vs the new. Boys could wear long hair at Homestead Elementary but they wouldn’t be playing sports. It was a moot point for me anyway. My dad was decidedly old school and had little use for “hippies” and by extension, long hair on men. My hair was going to be short whether I played ball or not.

While I was silently pondering all this, my sister offered up an explanation I’d never considered: the rigorous application, screening and selection process for the original Homesteaders placed a premium on character traits such as earnestness, perseverance, grit, cooperation and moral backbone. The project also looked for families and a devotion to same. Those qualities undergirded every institution created in the Cumberland Homesteads, most certainly the school where children of age spent most of their time.

And that got me to thinking about this paragraph from a piece I wrote for the August/September 2020 Crossville Life:

Some background: my family has long been on the Cumberland Plateau but we’re not first-generation Homesteaders. But having owned the house for 62 years and having lived the second-generation lifestyle, one where life was far easier and more modern than for the largely self-sustaining original Homesteaders, I’ll argue that we are Homesteaders through and through.

I stand by what I wrote but I feel like it requires a little more explanation.

My parents would have been second-generation had they grown up in the Homesteads. As it was, they were young newlyweds (20 and 19) when they bought our Homestead house in 1958 from the original owners, the Galyons.

(An aside — it could have happened. My grandmother — my mother’s mother — wanted to apply for a place in the Homesteads project but my grandfather didn’t. I don’t know that they’d been accepted, but what might have been …)

And my parents bought right into the Homestead way, not that it was any kind of stretch. They were Homesteaders in spirit and practice and, like the original and second-generation Homesteaders, passed that along to their children. While direct descendants of original Homesteaders are rightfully proud of their lineage — their ancestors carved this community from timberland and worked hard while bringing it to life — the second-wave of residents helped take what was already in place and solidify it.

Growing up, we were surrounded by original Homesteaders and their descendants. Our neighbors were original Homesteaders — the Andersons, the Fords and the Browns. The Woodys, like my parents, were second-wave owners but older and thoroughly Homestead. Our neighbors were older folks even when I was a child but most still worked some aspect of their farms. For instance, watching Mrs. Anderson — a relatively petite but determined woman — catch a chicken and wring its neck was both fascinating and shocking. I never really got used to it.

We were babysat by Mrs. Carson (Bea) Pharris over on Deep Draw, who worked all day around the house and farm while Mr. Pharris worked in town, in the basement at Hill’s. I most remember Mrs. Pharris washing clothes with the old ringer washing machine, which seemed like a lot of work but that I now know she was happy to have. She too kept chickens and could work them much like Mrs. Anderson.

On the other side of the Pharris’ place, across the little creek and the apple orchard, were the Pippins, original Homesteaders whose son Lyndon was longtime principal of Homestead Elementary and the only one I knew there. Mr. Pippin was a nice man and a Homesteader through and through and was perfectly suited to demonstrate and instill Homestead values in subsequent generations. We also went to church with the Pippins. I’ve written before about blurred lines between church, school and family. There’s yet another one.

Our church, Homestead Baptist, was the first to split from the original non-denominational community church established by the Homesteads project, and many original and second-generation Homesteaders were active members there, as were the younger third generation, of which I would be a part if I had true Homesteader lineage. As it was, most of my friends were either Homestead-descended or like me, a second-waver whose family was fully bought in.

It was through church that my parents met their good friends the Calahans. Both Mr. Calahan (Everett) and Mrs. Calahan (Mary Helen [Baltimore]) were second-generation Homesteaders and we spent a great deal of time with them, including a couple of Florida vacations. The Calahans loom large in my early personal history.

My point here is that, while my lineage doesn’t officially come through Homesteaders, I was born and raised in the Cumberland Homesteads and I am imbued with the values sought, brought, grown and nurtured here. The world was creeping in but we were sheltered as the turbulent Sixties happened mostly elsewhere. I was a little naive as I went out and pursued my own life but I wouldn’t trade my upbringing with anyone. I haven’t lived a perfect life but those values still serve me well.

It’s good to be a Homestead Bulldog.

rpdgraham@gmail.com