Home Roots

Posted by on Aug 22, 2011 in Blog, Home Is Where The Story Starts, Uncategorized |

I love looking out the kitchen window of my parent’s house into the back yard. It is a big back yard with some terraces which my Grandpa built. On those terraces are a mass of marigolds. So much bright orange in the middle of the unusual dark green. It’s still green here in SD which is pretty amazing for this time of year.

 

Just outside the window is a bird feeder. This morning there were about ten sparrows fighting for a spot on the bird feeder. They weren’t sharing very well.

 

This house is the parsonage and my Dad has been the Pastor here for twenty years now. Before that, my Grandpa Onstott was the Pastor. When my dad married my step-mom this was where I first met my new Grandparents. So, for 37 years now this has been a family home. Maybe that’s why I tell people I am from South Dakota even though I only lived here for ten years. I don’t know. But it is so good to be home.

 

I have been drowning (happily) in attention from my nieces and nephews. I have been hatching imaginary and impossible plans with them as to how we could make the distance between SD and SC or NC smaller. No real possibilities yet. . . I’ll let you know if we come up with something.

 

In the midst of this my brother gave me an interesting piece of information.

 

“The McKnight’s came from the Salisbury District in Rowan County, NC. . . “ This was said in his usual slow, deliberate, watch-out-and-run-if-you-have-time-because-there-is-an-hour-long-description-of-minute-family-history-factoids-about-to-unleash manner.

 

“Really?”

 

He went on to explain that George and his son Roger McKnight back in the 1700’s had a chapel there in the area and in fact were quite good friends with Asbury, one of the first bishops of the Methodist church. In fact, the first two Methodist-Episcopal churches camp meetings were held in the McKnight Chapel.

 

Roger’s son was named William Asbury McKnight and his son was named Asbury. Asbury’s son was named Clark McKnight, and Clark’s son was F.W. McKnight, my maternal grandfather.

 

I stood in stunned silence (I know, it’s quite a feat) and then I shouted. “I’m moving home.”

 

So, now in Salisbury, my new town I get to explore family roots that go back over 250 years. It is amazing to me. And, that doesn’t count the connections to the Revolutionary battle at King’s Mountain to which some of our Stover ancestors were attached. Bruce’s family was at King’s Mountain too. . . who’da thunk, Huh?

 

Maybe the distance isn’t so far from where I’ll be to home, after all.