In the 19th and early 20th centuries, I was Ginny. I remember this very distinctly from dreams and flashbacks. I was her from around 1853 to 1924 give or take a few years. My full name was Virginia, but everyone always called me Ginny. I am 9 years old here in these earliest recollections.

I was born and raised on a farm near Louisville, Kentucky. My father knew how to breed horses, so when he came to Kentucky, he bought some land and began a horse farm. We had some of the best thoroughbreds in the area, and our horses were in high demand regionally.

A winding lane went from the main pike up to our house. We would travel up and down the dusty lane in our horse drawn carriage. The carriage even had a canopy cover. There was a stone bridge that spanned a creek near a bend in the road. Beyond this, there were wide open green pastures interspersed with wooded areas. A wood-rail fence went all the way up towards our house, which was surrounded by some tall oak trees.
                                                                  

We lived in a two story log farm house. I think that the house was there before we purchased the land, because it was probably built several years earlier. It was built of squared timbers, with a long front porch. There were three rooms on the first floor: a kitchen, a dining/living room with an enormous fire place made of rough hewn stone, and a simple parlor.

Up on the second floor there was just one long room, with stairs in the middle and two windows on either end. It was more of an attic room, as the inverted "V" shape of the inner roof defined the inner spaces. There was a wooden railing where the stairs came up, but otherwise the room was wide open, and we all slept up there. The space was partitioned with tall chest-of-drawers. The beds were good. It was comfortable even on cold winter nights, snuggled in a quilt and bed sheets, the fire sending its warmth upwards from below through the wide floor boards.

I always wore long dresses with a bonnet. My fancy dress was made of a very silky yellow material. I usually wore this when I went to a special occasion, church, or to town. My everyday dresses were often plaid. I had one favorite dress that was green plaid, and I wore a white bonnet with it.

In the evenings father would come in from the fields with his brothers and farm hands, and they would sit down at a long wooden table that was in the center of the dining room. The fire was roaring, and mother was cooking a rabbit stew or beef vegetable soup. She wore a grey long ankle length dress, straps over the shoulders, and a bonnet. She stirred the stew. I brought the bowls and she filled them, then I took them and served the men. Mother also had warm bread from the clay oven. The men talked and laughed as they downed the hearty meal. After the men were served, I sat down in my chair and ate my portion and listened to the men talk.

My mother was a hard working woman, very serious, with an occasional smile. She had emigrated to this country from Germany as a little girl. She now spoke fluent English. Father was a strong self made individual whom never tired of his constant labors, and he had made our farm the envy of the county.

There were also big corn fields on our farm. I remember walking on a narrow rutted path through the fields. Father and Mother were walking next to me, and our farm hand was up on the hay wagon, driving a horse team. I don't know where we were going, maybe to visit our neighbors or just out to check on the crop.

To Be Continued.....See pictures below

As a young girl I wore dresses like these, day dresses, or a more common dress meant for play and work. Many of my dresses were plaid, only I had a cloth bonnet. But I do remember wearing many plaid dresses. Girls and women always wore dresses in these days, no exceptions!

I had brown hair with long locks, like the two girls standing. I looked very much like the girl standing in the right center of the painting, the girl facing us.

                                                                               

1861
It is a warm day in August 1861, father has gone to the fields to work, mother is in the house cooking as usual. I am able to slip away without her noticing, out through the side yard. I climb the fence rails, and walk out into the pasture. I find one of my favorite spots where I sit down on the grass. I see the horses grazing in the distance. A slight breeze blows in my face and gently brushes my hair across my cheeks. I see clover! I begin to pick the clover flowers and braid the stems together to form a ringlet. This takes me a long time to get a strand long enough. When I have completed a long enough strand of woven clover, I tie it around my head, wearing the clover like a crown.

Now I wander down to the banks of a creek, and I look into the murky waters. I can see some tadpoles swimming around. There are hoof prints in the sandy loam. I pick up a long stick and poke it into the mud, then into the water, stirring it around. This makes ripples in the water that sparkle in the bright sun shine.

Mother is calling my name. "Coming, mama!"

I run to her, and listen as she tells me to clean the house. I dust all the rooms. I go into the parlor and dust all the furniture in there. The room has two English windows side by side that face towards the front of the house. This gives my favorite room plenty of light. This is the only room where we have fine furniture, like an upholstered love seat and chair, and side tables made of exquisite wood. I do a thorough job with my dusting, as I know that mother will run her fingers over the smooth wood to check for any dust residue. I must sweep the floors and make the place look tidy, we are having company tonight.

Mother has made a fancy meal of savory beef roast with all the trimmings. Our guests have arrived, some country gents and their ladies from the church. I help mother serve the meal, then sit down to enjoy a rare feast.

There is much conversation, but what really catches my ear is the talk about war. I did not understand what was going on, but the talk began to get heated, something about the North and South not getting along. Now the Union was sending an army to Louisville. An army in Louisville? I could not believe this! All of this talk frightened me. I wondered what was going to happen. I felt very uneasy as I cleared the table.

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1862
Papa brings in the milk container, he has been out in the barn milking cows this morning. Mama is cooking on the pot belly stove. We sit down to a breakfast of ham and eggs, biscuits and milk. The fresh milk tastes so rich and smooth. My little brother sits across the small kitchen table from me and sticks out his tongue. I make a funny face and he giggles.

The biscuits are best smothered in honey and butter. The butter is running out. Today I will be at the butter churn, making a new batch.

I help mama clear off the table, while little brother runs off somewhere to play, and father goes back out to the barnyard to work.

Now it is time to churn the butter. I sit at a wooden stool in the middle of the kitchen and churn the cream with the plunger. It takes a long time before the cream begins to thicken into the consistency of butter. Mama sits in her rocker next to the kitchen window. She is sewing a new quilt. She is humming an old folk song as she works. I love to listen to her hum, it is so lovely as the melody carries through the whole house.

A slight breeze comes through the open window, moving the lace curtains just a little. I can smell something sweet on the morning breeze, like freshly cut pine wood.

Suddenly we hear shouting coming from the barnyard. It sounds like papa is angry at someone. Mama and I step over to the window to see what is happening. There are soldiers out back, about six of them, all dressed in dark blue uniforms. We see father walking towards the soldiers holding a riffle. He shouts " Get off my land, you won't have my horses!" One of the soldiers shouts back, demanding to have our prize horses. Mama looks so frightened.

A soldier pulls his pistol from its holster. "Stay back, or I'll put you in the ground!" he yells.

Father does not back down. He continues to walk towards the soldiers, riffle pointed directly at the man with the drawn pistol.

I begin to tremble and my heart races.

The soldier fires his pistol and father falls backwards, blood gushing from his forehead. Mama screams. She runs out the back door, across the back yard, to a wood pile next to a shed. She grabs an axe from the wood pile and charges at the soldiers, screaming hysterically, shouting, "Get out of here, you devils!"

I have never seen such rage on mama's face. She ran towards the men with the axe upraised, ready to strike them down. One of the soldiers drew his long curved-edged sword above his head, then swung it in a wide arc. The sword struck mama's neck, slicing right through every muscle and tendon. Her decapitated head fell one direction, and her limp body immediately dropped to the ground.

I watched all of this in horror from the kitchen window. I was stunned, frozen for a moment, not knowing what to do. I realized that these soldiers would probably come to kill me too if they saw me, so I ran into the front room and grabbed my little brother, then escaped out the front of the house, running as fast as I could towards the corn field. I never looked back.

Run! Run for your life! Run silent, run swift. What can I do? Where do I go? I run until I am out of breath, until my lungs are bursting for air. I trip and fall, tearing the hem of my dress. I lay in the dirt, face down, and tear at the loose soil with my hands, sobbing.

"Ginny, don't cry!" I look up and see my little brother next to me. I feel like I must be strong for him. I stop crying and raise up, looking into his eyes. He doesn't know.

I get up and reach my hand out to him. "Come, we must get help!"

We continue to walk through the corn to our neighbor's farm. I see Ma Brown near the house washing clothes. We run to her. "Ma Brown, please help us! Please!

"What's wrong, child?"

"Mama and Papa are hurt bad. Soldiers came and took our horses and...." My voice trailed off and I began to cry.

Ma Brown dropped what she was doing, told me and my brother to stay at the house, then she ran to get help. She ran to the grist mill and got several men to go with her. They found my Mama and Papa where they had been slain. Their bodies were placed in pine coffins and taken to the church cemetery.

There was a funeral and the pastor said some words, everyone prayed at the grave site. I noticed that there were mostly women at the funeral. Many of the men folk had left to fight in the Civil War.

My little brother and I stayed with Ma Brown for awhile, but she could not care for us. There was nobody working the farm, her husband and sons were fighting in the war. Arrangements were made for us to go to an orphanage in Louisville.

I went back home to gather what I could - clothing, keepsakes and the like. Then I went and rounded up the farm animals that remained after the soldiers stole our horses. I led them into the city of Louisville, all the animals followed me up 5th Street, past a large church with arches above the doors. The goats were directly behind me, followed by pigs and cows. We were a sight, and I got many stares from everyone in the streets. It was a cool Fall morning, and I dressed in a crinmantle                                                                                                               

Yes, my goats followed me into the city, my beloved goats, I loved my goats. Tears streamed from my eyes. But I had to continue on, onwards to the stock yards, where I sold the last of our farm animals. With bitterness I took the money, money needed to survive.

I went back and got my little brother. We dressed in our finest clothing. I wore my yellow silky dress and a white bonnet.

We departed for the orphanage. I held my little brother's hand as we walked down Market Street in Louisville. Squared paving stones were underfoot. I look up and see an imposing red brick building, it looks austere, perhaps it was a church orphanage, as I remember spires on the building. Here we go, through the gate, this will be our new home.

1862 to 1865
I do not recall much about the orphanage. I must have been there for at least 3 years. I entered the orphanage in the fall of 1862, and probably remained there until 1865, when the Civil War was over. So I would have been 9 or 10 when I started there, and 12 or 13 by the time I left. I don't know why I have so few memories of the place, if they do exist they are very faint.

There is one memory that stands out, however. I was laying on a blanket that was spread out on the front lawn of the orphanage. I was in a dress, laying in a fetal position face down, with my legs drawn up under my belly. I would stay in this position for a long time, it is as though I were being neglected. I did not talk to anyone. I had become mute. I remember that there were some women standing in the walkway wearing wide gathered dresses so long they went all they way to the ground. One lady was talking to a well dressed man in a suede suit.

I don't know what they were discussing. I just remember feeling so sad, lost, alone. I could hear them talking, perhaps they were talking about me. But I did not want to talk to anyone, I just wanted everyone to leave me alone. This may have been in the early days at the orphanage, when I withdrew into a world of silence, I hung my head, and did not respond when I was addressed by adults. It may be that I was not neglected, but instead chose this posture of resistance. I became uncooperative, at times unruly. So perhaps the well dressed man and spiffy woman were there to help me come out of my isolation, to do some novel 19th century psychology on me. I am sure that their intentions were good, trying to help a disturbed orphan girl. Anyway, I don't think that whatever they did worked, I remained in my solitude for quite some time.

I became very sick with the measles. I had a high fever and my face had bumps and sores. A kind nurse took care of me and she brought my fever down by keeping me hydrated with wet towels. She saved my life, I came very close to death. At times I might have felt like dying, but something inside me struggled for life. I did not want to die like that.

Yes, I hated this life in this institution. There were some good, caring people on the staff, but they could never take the place of my parents, the warmth. love and nurture that I had received when I was with them. I missed my parents and the farm, now everything was gone. My life had been shattered by the mean evil soldiers, they were murderers. I wanted them to hang for what they did.

I could not see my little brother, he was placed in the boys section of the orphanage. Because of this policy, I lost contact with him for many years.

In 1865 I was ready to leave the orphanage, the Civil War had ended, and President Lincoln was shot. It would take a long time for me to heal from the wounds inflicted by that war. This was true for the entire country.

Louisville 1850 to 1860
                                   


1865 to 1870

Louisville 1870

                                                      

1870

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I had fallen in love with Walter. However, I was not too secure with the arrangements we had. Don't get me wrong, it was wonderful to be his 'one and only true love', as he called me. He treated me like a lady, gave me exquisite gold and diamond jewelry, wined and dined me out on the town, and we made love. But he would not marry me; at least not yet. He was a riverman, and his duties kept him away for long periods of time, so he was not ready for a long term commitment.

I was now living the life of luxury in a downtown hotel. The hotel was very nice, wedged between other commercial buildings on Main Street. The front lobby was on the small size, with a long clerk's desk on the left side when you entered from the street. Mr Weaver, the desk clerk, would always look up and smile at me when I walked by. "Well, hello, Miss Ginny!", he would say, peering at me through his wire rimmed glasses. I would smile at him and walk to the stairs, holding up the hem of my long dress as I climbed several stairs to the second floor. From the stairs, I entered a large foyer area, complete with couches and reading chairs, side tables, and a big fireplace. There were ornate brass gas lamps mounted along the walls, always lit at night.

Two hallways opened from the left and right side of the foyer. My room was the second door to the right down the right side hall. My room faced the street.

I had a good sized room with two queen sized poster beds, desk, chairs, and a table. On the table there was a large matching ceramic pitcher and wash bowl. Two windows faced street side, and I usually opened the long drapes so that I could view the activity on Main Street.

Walter would be away for extended periods of time working on the riverboats. I missed him dearly when he was gone, every time he left on that huge behemoth steamboat, belching its black smoke from tall stacks, tears would fill my eyes.

Oftentimes when Walter was away, my friends would stay with me. Penny came, my long time friend, and Sara, one of the girls from the garment factory. Sometimes we would stand in front of the hotel on the walk in fine Victorian dresses. We'd chat, giggle, and sometimes go for a stroll through town.

When Sara and Penny left, I usually stayed in my room, leaving only for my evening meal at the dining room. When I was alone I would write in my diary. It had a tanned leather cover, and inside the front cover, on the first page, I had written my name in scrawled cursive letters.

                                                                                                                            

I had recorded all of the important events of my life in my diary. I was writing down my most personal thoughts, my dreams of a happy life with Walter. He would marry me someday and never be away from me again.

Sometimes I got lost in my thoughts, sitting at the desk in my room writing in my diary. The pen and paper were my companions, to write was a release from my solitude.

Diary Entry: August 25, 1870

I met a lady last night at diner. I told her about Walter, all about his position on the steam boat, and how he was providing for me. Then she said something that puzzled me. She said that she wondered if he ( Walter ) was doing "something else" Indeed she questioned if he were making a sufficient income on a riverboat to support me.

What did she mean by "something else?" What else could he be doing? I should have prodded her to tell me more of her suspicions, but I really did not give her comments much consideration at the time, she was probably just envious of me.

A week later I was wearing a diamond engagement ring.

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Diary Entry: September 12, 1870

I was the maid of honor at Penney's wedding today. I was so happy for her. It was such a beautiful wedding, and I cried. She will always be my best friend. The wedding and reception lasted into the evening. I was angry that Walter did not attend.

I closed my diary and shut my eyes. I had not seen Walter since this morning. He said that he was going to visit with some friends at the wharfs. I was feeling shaken because of what had just happened.

I had returned from the wedding and was walking through the hotel lobby towards the stairs when this insane man ran up to me yelling "yer gonna pay for this wench!" Then he ripped the right sleeve completely off my best dress. I screamed and slapped the man. It took several men to get him away from me.

By 8pm Walter still had not returned to the room. I had a bad feeling that something was wrong. I decided to go out and look for him.

I left the hotel and walked up Main to Fourth Street. I thought that Walter might be in one of the clubs. As I passed one of the taverns, I noticed some men shouting over a card game. One of the men was Walter.

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Now I knew how Walter was getting so much money. This was how he could afford our hotel room, the diamond jewelry, the fancy restaurants. He was a high stakes gambler, apparently a good one at that.

I returned to my hotel room and went to bed. It was late when Walter returned.

I must say that I was devastated by this turn of events. I had suspicions that something was going on all along. I recalled the conversation with the woman in the restaurant. So this is what she meant when she said that Walter must be doing 'something else'.  Then there was this insane man who ripped my dress. Was he one of the men that Walter had angered at a card game?

The next day after breakfast Walter left to get supplies at the dry goods store. When he returned he was furious.

He had found out about the insane man who had ripped my dress. I had never seen him so angry. He grabbed his gun and stormed towards the door.

"Any man that lays a hand on my woman will pay for it!" he shouted.

I tried to stop him. "Walter! No, please! I'm okay, he did not harm me!"

"He's gonna pay for this!"

These were the last words Walter ever said to me. 

Walter went to a small house off Jefferson Street and shot and killed the man who had attacked me. But the man's son shot and killed Walter from a window of the house.


The Summer of 1880

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Time would not allow me to forget Walter. After ten years not a day went by without my Walter in my thoughts. The pain and sorrow were deep, like a knife in my heart.

I walked by the orphanage. I stopped and stared at it. My eyes scanned the imposing brick building.  Tears streamed down my cheeks.

"Are you okay, Miss?" an old gentleman  was saying.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, thankyou kind sir."

I still lived at the hotel. Soon after Walter's death, I found a job at a fine furniture store. It was a family owned business. I was treated like family, too. They always invited me for Sunday diner and special holiday meals.

I never married.

Penny became very ill in the autumn of 1880. I took care of her two girls when she was in the hospital. They were quite a handful, running, yelling, bouncing on the beds. I was afraid that they would get me kicked out of the hotel. We spent many hours at the central park running off all that excessive energy. The girls stayed with me until the spring. I must say that I did enjoy their company, and I always looked forwards to their visits when ever Penny came to town.

Diary Entry July 20, 1884

I visited the farm today. It had been sold by my Uncle and his wife several years ago, and the new owners let it go downhill. The land had been joined to another tract.
The house was gone except for the chimney, and one wall left standing. The land was overgrown with weeds. My brother hated farming, probably because of what had happened there. He moved out West.

I end this writing about my past life as Ginny with a dream that I had a few years back. 

The Dream

I am at the hotel. It is abandoned and it has been wrecked by vandalism. The front lobby is dirty and covered in cob webs. I am the only one here. I walk up the stairs to the 2nd floor parlor. There is broken glass everywhere and debris strewn about the floor.

The hotel has been abandoned for many years. ( Ginny is now about 70 years old ) Something attracts my attention in a pile of trash on the floor. Could it be? I pick up a book with a tattered tan leather cover. I opened it. There on the first page, about half way down, I see my name written



My long lost diary.... My long lost....

On the walls I see portraits of Civil War soldiers in dark blue uniforms. The soldiers have blindfolds over their eyes. I sense the shame and guilt in every face; they have paid for their crime. Yes. They have paid.

The End