A curious little tool, saved by a thoughtful aunt, opens a window into the everyday life of John Ewing Carr more than a century ago. What once helped a young man harvest corn now offers his descendants something equally valuable: a tangible connection to the hands that shaped their family history.
Some ancestors leave behind photographs, letters, and family histories. Troy F. Collins left us a mystery. From his elusive childhood in East Tennessee to his service in the Union Army, Troy’s story is filled with missing clues, curious coincidences, and unanswered questions. Join us as we follow the trail!
In August 1782, as the Revolutionary War neared its end, the women of Bryan Station faced an extraordinary challenge. Among them was Mary “Polly” Hawkins Craig, whose courage helped turn an ordinary household chore into one of the most memorable acts of bravery on the Kentucky frontier.
Long after toys had been forgotten, one ordinary kitchen fixture remained bright in memory. Aunt Rosey’s red water pump offered two little girls more than water—it taught them that some things are meant to be left for the next person.
Every family has one story that lingers at the edge of certainty, refusing to let go. Claud William Scurlock’s descendants tell a remarkable story—one that begins with a small boy, a country road, and a mystery that echoed through the rest of his life.
The Dragoo family’s frontier story reveals a different side of the American Revolution: one shaped by contested land, fragile settlements, Native resistance, family loss, captivity, and renewal along the Monongahela River.
Before America was secure, men like George Lemley stood guard on its dangerous frontier. His story is one of family, courage, and ordinary duty in a time when independence had to be defended cabin by cabin.
In the winter of 1776, William Ewing marched from home into the uncertainty of revolution. What followed was more than military service—it was the beginning of a family legacy shaped by duty, sacrifice, faith, and westward hope.
When war divided the Carolina backcountry, Peter Meisenheimer stepped forward for the Patriot cause. From Camden’s chaos to the westward pull of Illinois, his life carried the marks of faith, family, courage, and the making of a new nation.
What if caring for family history is not looking backward at all, but a way of becoming more fully alive, now? Preserving stories, places, records, gardens, and memories is how we live with love, purpose, and belonging every day.
At its heart, the vision for Ridge Haven is a living expression of family love: a place for memories, a shelter for elders, a garden for grief and gratitude, a library for discovery, and a place where generations will come to know not only where they came from, but who they are becoming.
Re-membering is the gentle art of gathering what time has scattered, a return of love, grief, and heritage to the center of our lives, where the dead are not lost but continue within us, shaping who we are and who we are becoming.
Every family tree hides a little wonder. Among its branches and leaves, past the names and stories, there is sometimes a bit of unexpected fruit—sweet, bright, and waiting to be discovered. Now Ridge Haven offers online access to its digital harvest, inviting family members to gather treasured stories with just a click.
When winter finally loosens its frosty fingers, something delightful comes skipping in on the March breeze: Davis Day. Part holiday, part fairy tale, and wholly devoted to joy, she arrives with flowers, laughter, and the delicious suspicion that the world is about to become a little more beautiful.
Step into the hearth-lit kitchens of the 1750s–1780s. In Colonial Comfort Foods, Michael Dragoo turns authentic recipes and cooking methods into a vivid bridge to family history—helping us taste what it was like to be our ancestors, one dish at a time.
Stories rise like biscuits in the oven—warm, steady, made from memory. Here, we honor the women who fed generations with their hands, their hearts, and a cast-iron skillet. This is where recipes become stories, and stories become legacy.
A Century of Family Voices. Imagine discovering a time capsule filled with letters from your ancestors — stories, hopes, and blessings written just for you. Their words would be a gift through time, a bridge between lives … Now, it’s our turn to be that bridge.
Before the Barrackville bridge crossed Buffalo Creek, a boy named John Dragoo stood between two worlds. Born to a Shawnee mother and a captured settler father, his story flickers at the edges of recorded history—brief, brave, and half-forgotten, like footprints along a shifting, ancestral riverbank.
We live among the silent ones, the forgotten ones. They are silent only because we do not have ears to hear. They are forgotten but not erased. They are there, in the deep, in the background, continuing their journey through us.
In the borderlands of 1786, survival rewrote identities—a capture, a return, a name that shifts in the telling. William Dragoo’s story begins where certainty ends.
It is speculated that the first Davis in America, Thomas Davis, formerly of Marlborough, England, came by boat in 1641. And believe it or not, the first artichoke seeds, like Davis, were also brought by boat! Unbelievable, right?
We sometimes find that our different family lines have a funny way of speaking to each other across the generations. They send secret messages back and forth, like little classroom love birds, waiting for the teacher to turn her back.
“Time is the longest distance between two places.”
It seems that we just couldn’t find the time to reach our 2023 goal to post at least one article a month. We wondered, where did the time go? Can we make time for people and projects, or are we caught up in the “rat race” of life?
A very Convivial Davis Day to all ye Davis of the World! The year is 2024 and AI is here for one purpose, and one purpose only: to unite the world in the true spirit of Davis Day, which is Conviviality.
When we take the time to earnestly and carefully introspect and write down our thoughts—to really share what is on our minds and in our hearts—we bless our family, and we bless the generations whom do not yet know us.