For clear background to read text throughout ACR, run cursor over graphics display.
Harold Curtis Scranton was a tall (6'1"), athletically built with pale skin over softly chiseled features that tanned well, hazel-eyed with wavy dark brown hair man of a genially reserved personality. The only boy with three well-educated siblings, he liked and enjoyed females respectfully -- and people generally, if distantly. Wearing his WWI Army uniform and courting decked-out "flapper" Marjorie May within Manhattan's Riverside Drive, he defined "dashing." He was born in Raleigh NC on March 5, 1889 to parents who soon moved their small family north to New England.
My affectionately endearing grandfather was judeo-christian, as raised in Hartford CN amongst an also female-dominant teacher-family, in belief and behavior but he seldom if ever spoke of his faith and only attended church services on the two highest holy days during which he stood with the rest of us and incomprehensibly babbled, despite printed lyrics held open in his hands, hymns in his sonorously harmonious and commanding baritone. Nana, whom my father-antagonistic mother always skewered as being "a sucker for a good-looking man," would look reticently embarassed each occasion.
In the back livingroom corner gramps taught me, sitting on his knee, from his upholstered armchair opposite the upright piano and beside the built-in bookshelves how to read meaningfully newspaper stock market pages. Together we perused his favorite magazines: Readers Digest and Life or Look. He taught me how to swim, play golf, bridge and gin rummy and solitaire. I had free access to his home office, a small room with a large desk and cot, more books, and its own back stairs to the kitchen.
(I never heard of [blood-kin] incest before moving/living south and didn't believe it at_all at first until it was proven to me in my 50s beyond reasonable doubt.)
Caveat: This creative non-fiction micro-memoir transliterates from decades-stretched memory as nearly all my family documents and irreplaceably priceless (mostly monogrammed or inscribed) heirlooms are va-tn-dc-fl stolen and unreturned despite repeated requests otherwise to criminally-complicit authorities and laity. By legal will/s lifelong, my grandparents legated all their unencumbered props for safekeeping to me solely.
by Jeannette Harris
VISITOR CENTER Art Shoppes &
"The Appalachian Region's economy, once highly dependent on mining, forestry, agriculture, chemical industries, and heavy industry, has become more diversified in recent times, and now includes manufacturing and professional service industries. Appalachia has come a long way in the past four decades: its poverty rate, 33 percent in 1965, was 18 percent in 2008. The number of high-poverty counties in the Region (those with poverty rates more than 1.5 times the U.S. average) declined from 295 in 1965 to 116 in 2000.
"But despite progress, Appalachia still does not enjoy the same economic vitality as the rest of the nation. Central Appalachia in particular still battles economic distress, with concentrated areas of high poverty, unemployment, poor health, and severe educational disparities. And recent economic data show that the Region has fared far worse in the current recession than the rest of the nation." -- ARC