Ever spent time with a 9 year old?

Ever spent time with a 9 year old? I have in my possession two china figures that were given to me when I was about that age as birthday gifts...one is a mermaid bell and the other is a panda bear.  They were the most beautiful presents to me that ever could have been given.  My aunt and uncle took me to see the new movie playing in the theaters--Clash of the Titans! I was so special the year I was nine.  I was long and lanky and tanned from head to toe....I ran the woods and swam the creeks and fished almost every day that summer...my best friend's name was Joe.  I wish I knew where he was today.  He lived down across the creek and no one could make me madder, or happier, than he could.  We drank coke from the same bottle and caught crawdads in jars...we dammed up the creek to make deeper swimming holes...life was good...when I was nine.
Today's nine-year-olds are a little different.  They play video games and go out on the lake in bass boats to fish.  They buy their worms out of a cooler instead of digging in the old hay behind the barn.  They don't get dirty much, unless they slide into home plate during a little league game.  They have probably never used a rock as third base, or hit a sweet-gum ball with a stick.  They don't know what a cheese sandwich wrapped in a piece of plastic wrap tastes like, or how sticky Kool Aid really is. They have no idea that cow piles, while crunchy on the outside, aren't always crunchy on the inside, or that creek clay comes in a plethora of living colors...and stinks to high heaven, although it is still worth it to paint yourself up like an Indian at war and whoop and holler jumping off the creek bank into the water to wash it all off.  They have cell phones and iPods and iPads...computers instead of tablet paper...yes, the world has changed alot since late 1970's...
 I remember when I was growing up our neighbor, Doc Beavers, would bring my Daddy fresh milk...it would still be warm.  I loved the smell and taste of it.  Non-pasteurized...probably would be illegal to give away now.  I remember the taste of churned butter, and eating apples straight off the tree.  That's the way life was for us.  As I said before, we didn't have money...but would I trade knowing what those things taste like for the ones bought in grocery stores? Never. Do children now, my own child included, understand that eggs don't come from cartons--they actually come out of a chicken? I have seen my parents "witch" for water...something I hope to show my son how to do soon.  I know when the sky is red in the morning, we'll have storms that day.  My Daddy wouldn't let us eat the squirrels killed in the warmer part of squirrel season--they had "wolves" in them...where did all of this information come from? How do we know? Because we lived it--it was our heritage.  Country living, from the beginning of time,  was not for the weak of back, mind, or heart.  It was for those with the dedication to stay alive.  They didn't have a choice, you know.  There weren't other options.  You killed, caught, and grew your own food or you starved--simple as that. Up until the invention of all the modern technologies we have now-conveniences, really, you had to plan in order to live.
But back to being a nine year old...would a nine year old possess all of those abilities? The story is that when David Henderson was nine he got separated from his sisters shortly after getting off the boat from overseas. I have to imagine that he was a very smart little boy--to be as successful as he became later on, but at age nine, how on earth could he have taken care of himself? He was just a kid--and he was, for all intents and purposes, lost.  Would he have been able to do more than catch a fish or milk a cow? If he were a nine year old in this day and age, probably not. Even in the 1970's it would have been questionable I am sure, depending on his upbringing.  But in 1796, I just imagine he would have known to do all of that and more.  His role in life would have been to do all of those things, just to stay alive. The game he played wasn't for fun...it was for keeps.
The story goes on that a family by the name of Lee took him in--and he traveled with them to Tennessee, and in 1806, came to Lincoln County.  In 1812, he fought in the War of the same year and was wounded in his right arm, which crippled that arm for life.  And in 1814, he married one of the Lee daughters, Elizabeth, and located in the 21st District of Lincoln County...which we now recognize as the area of Bugger Hollow. 
And so, the story of the Henderson clan begins... all because a nine year old boy was lost.

England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales...

So, the story goes that a young David Henderson immigrated from Ireland to New York City where he got separated from his sisters...he was about 9 years old. 
I don't know how much of that is true--I cannot document that the David Henderson found on the ship rosters is the same David Henderson who ended up in Bugger Hollow (pronounced "booger holler").  I have other information that says he was born in Virginia.  Either way, there aren't many in the Henderson family that don't claim some kind of Irish/Scottish heritage.  The prevalence of red heads in the family is overwhelming, even to this day.  Both my niece and my nephew are sweet little gingers...my Henderson born grandmother was called "Red"...and almost all of them sunburn and freckle at the drop of a hat. I did a little reading--another blog, actually, (not really all that scientific, but a little more input)and it seems that a study was done to determine the prevalence of red hair in Ireland/Scotland...and it was determined that the gene for that specific trait was more prevalent in those areas...along with fair skin and tall athletic builds.  There seemed to be a bunch of comments arguing the points, but it all boiled down to having some Celtic/Scandanavian origin. My brother Daniel actually looks more like he should be swinging a hammer with Thor than a hardworking Dad of those two sweet gingers...and my own body betrays me according to other research.  I read something one of my friends posted that had the phrase "Celtic toe" and wondered what on earth that was...so I looked it up.  All these years knowing I had the ugliest feet on the planet could not stifle the joy I felt when I realized that I was the proud owner of Celtic toes.  I didn't even care that my friend probably would be repulsed by my feet...it proved that *maybe* all those years of having my feet hidden and not wearing open toed shoes were over...I could proudly flaunt my longer second toe and know that it meant I actually came from somewhere!
So I'm thinking, David probably did have those roots...the picture of him on his headstone shows a somewhat mean looking white haired ghostly dude. As a matter of fact, if you look at some of the other Henderson's in pictures, you'll find that same ghostly looking white hair...including that of my own father...so, I'm not discounting that red hair and fair skin...or my toes...they are part of who we are!
So, little David...9 years old...in New York city....can you imagine? Another part of the family story maintains that he traveled with a family by the last name of Lee, which proves to be more than interesting as he gets older...considering that he married Elizabeth Lee, which does happen to be a documented fact. She's still there, in Bugger Hollow...buried in Stewart Creek cemetery.  Some say she is kin to Robert E Lee, but there is no evidence that I have found, after extensive research, to support that.   So I'll just take it for what it is-just a girl he loved.
So until I get a chance to write a little more, think about that little 9 year old ornery Irish/Scottish/Virginia kid...no parents...no family...traveling with strangers.  Old enough to fend for himself, but too small to have to...back then they didn't have food stamps...DHS...all that stuff.  You just lived, or you died.  And that's just the way it was...