However, he had not been a stranger to change

However, he had not been a stranger to change and adventure as we learned from his “going west” experiences. He received a fair market value for his property and using the money went down the hollow just outside the park boundary and bought jointly w'ith his brother what we locally call the old Monroe place. Two tracts of land totaling about 181 acres. The later years of his life were spent with his brother, “Boot" Dwyer and their sisters. Lucy and Dora, all sharing the same house. Lucv eventually moved to Falling Waters, W.Va. with her son. Dora died in 1951 and Boot died in 1955. Boot also had land joining his father’s place in prepark days. My grandmother, Lillie Dwyer Pullen, daughter of Boot Dwyer, has related to me many stories of her growing up in that area. She remembered her grandmother as an old lady, sitting bv the fireplace smoking a clay pipe. Just turning 83 this month, her mind and memory are now fading and the stories are not as vividly and easily told. Elizabeth Bolen Dwyer had been a member of the Primitive Baptist church in Old Hollow. There is a letter written from Elder C. W. Miller in 1929 to Nina Bowen Dwyer. He seems to be amazed at the number of descendants “sister Frances1’ had and that there were six generations at her death! The torch has been passed. Now my generation seeks to locate and document their ancestry and longs to understand the lives of those hearty mountaineers. My mother and I, Under a clear bine shy. Set out to find the old site. We followed the trail. Which o'er tune had been assailed, By nature's reclaiming might. With map in hand. And knowing the land. We found the old place alright. Not much to discern. Where the home fires had burned. But we found evidence in sight. As we stood at this place, Where was hardly a trace. Of our forefather's stay. We knew of a certain. That tune is a curtain. Which closes at the end of the play. So, today here we stood. Tomorrow perhaps another would. Who’ll pointer and say. Tee been to the place. And there’s hardly a trace. Where our foreparents memories rune lay.