I was born in 1916 and grew up during the roaring 20's. My father was forty-seven years old the year that I was born. My mother died when I was nineteen months old. My father died the January of the year that I was graduating with honors from high school. Far away from my father, I remember my childhood in the home of his sister who took me in before I was two and brought me up for him. I also remember the bone-chilling winter months there in the mountains, the temperature could drop to 30-40 degrees below zero any time. The blizzards, the four walks to school each day, the frozen crust on the snow, the spring thaw, the floods... New potatoes and fresh English peas from the garden on the Fourth of July, Daily Vacation Bible School, violin lessons, the annual Sunday School picnic, Girl Scouts, summer camp, Lassie with burdock burrs in her tail ... with permission gathering hickory nuts on Jay Ward’s farm, flying squirrels, uprooted - upturned - standing - tangled - tree-root fencing, holiday fruit cakes baking, Christmas morning, and the cousins home from college. I learned to swim in Shrader Creek the summer I turned eight. I remember the stock market crash, and the depression of the 30's. During World War II, I worked as a nurse. I took care of my husband’s mother for fifteen years, ten of these years she was confined to the bed with a broken hip. She never knew me, but sadder still, she never knew her only child, her son Edward, either. I am his widow now for over twenty years. My writings are a labor of love from God to you, and everyone too.

I leave you praying, and I love you. I love America.

Estella

She was born April 1, 1916, and loves to give, and give she does as you can well see when you read her stories, poems and writings. She donates this website to the public for their reading pleasure.