My grandmother Helen Virginia Jeffress McIlroy ("Ginny") was born in Bumpus Mills, Tennessee in 1914. They were a family of itinerant farmers/sharecroppers who lived several places along the Kentucky/Tennessee border. I remember her stories of playing in tobacco-drying sheds as a girl as well as the story of her folks loading up the five kids in the back of a pickup truck and heading to California. At the time Ginny was the sole girl with two older brothers and two younger. I always thought she was a bit of a princess; now seeing where she came from I can understand.
I attempted some genealogical study in Dover, the seat of Stewart County, but didn't come up with much. Getting online with ancester.com I found records showing that the same people used various spellings of their last name: Jeffress, Jeffreys, Jeffries. I wonder about the original pronunciation.
A drive through downtown Bumpus Mills today
This is the first building as you enter town after crossing the Bill Walker Memorial bridge over Saline Creek.
Mom says that the owner of the store, Henry Ezell, was "Grandma's favorite cousin."
From old pictures, this was originally Farmers and Merchants Bank.
We had breakfast at the Bumpus Meals Diner (originally a garage) and it was so delicious we went back a second time. I joked that it was because the Sysco truck couldn't get there so everything was fresh. Actually that could be true.
Besides the boar-head trophy on the wall above us, other unusual things appeared on the breakfast menu: smoked jowl, eggs and brains (is that a thing?) bologna and eggs. Of course everything came with biscuits and gravy and your choice of potatoes. The second trip I opted for the fluffy homemade biscuit but passed on the gravy. Bumpus Meals is open 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday. There is a lunch special each day and people called ahead for orders to go.
We are used to seeing a lot of churches in the midwest, but Stewart County was unlike any other place we have traveled in the pure number. It seemed like there were almost as many churches as houses so they must have small congregations who walk to worship each Sunday. Many of the churches have similar signs pointing the way down back lanes and Tom joked that there must be someone selling "Church in a box" kits.
The Luton House, quite a place in its day.
Passed every day on our way to "town": the Bumpus Mills Country Club.
Pretty much says it all.
There are many unpaved roads in the area.
We were only in the area four nights but had to find a car wash twice.
Above and below, these pictures show how easily vegetation takes over buildings. We saw many barns and old houses being eaten alive.
Another anomaly to us were the number of flags flying on people's property. The majority were US flags, but there were also a good number of confederate flags. I hate to say it but those tended to be on the more dilapidated dwellings and single-wides.
I have a new understanding and perhaps appreciation for the hard times people go through and their desire for change. I want to believe in most cases these flags are not meant to be racist symbols, but instead indicate a pride of place and/or a hope for a return to an imagined glory.
I want to believe that.
We ponder at the same time of what different people Tom and I would be if we had grown up in rural Tennessee and Kentucky rather than in Northern California in the late 1960's.
The park was very quiet, with only two to three other sites occupied. It was a great place to wind-down after the National Specialty.
There was nobody else at the beach and picnic area (outside of geese and a heron) so we let the dogs have some play time in the water.
Ok, Dora played in the water. Kady said "Nah."
The park has a deserved reputation for beautiful sunsets over the lake.
We would have stayed longer, but the lack of cell service and spotty internet forced us to move on.
