Family history of the Kennebec potato & me.: 2010

Part-1
Family history of the Kennebec potato & me.

Walter Harris Sutton left Michigan & went to Brevard, NC area looking for a mail order bride in the late 30's-early 40's. She was already taken so he went back to agronomy. He was working on a new variety of potato (now known as the Kennebec) part of the name probably came from the Quebec area of Lake Toxaway, NC.

Walter was told to go try Lake Toxaway area as he needed ground where no potatoes had been grown & none growing for 1-2 miles.
He found land owned by "Looney" and Penira Owen. "Looney" would raise corn & grain for untaxed beverage purposes. "Looney"and Penira had 5 kids. Ellen, Marvin, Wayne, Donna, Lucy.

Walter was of the old school, of a family wealthy before the depression, but he was wiped out by it; as well as most of them. Educated in the best schools of old Europe, and a world traveler.

His wife had left him years earlier with their one child, to be relocated & remarried in California. This he discovered after years of searching. Her reasons for leaving I don't know. When he resumed working on his new variety of potato he was fifty five years old, no heirs, and lonely. Solace was found in botanical work. Those who knew more are long dead or unaware of relatives.

The Owen children had typical high-school range education. Walter was a near physician whose career was aborted by amputation below the left knee and subsequent years of trying to drink away dashed hopes.

Donna was very late teens to early twenty something. Walter was fifty five, aristocratic and commanding in demeanor. Tall and striking in appearance, penetrating eyes and prominent bushy eyebrows curling upwards and at times a dark mustache.

She told me it was love at first sight for both of them. A north / south romance that risked violence toward himself while in the autumn of his years, for a kind and dark haired girl in the Blue Ridge Mountains .

To get married they hitched a ride with the mail truck on it's way down the higher mountains to the county seat, twenty plus miles and two thousand foot plus drop in elevation below.

Mervin Anders was the post master driving the mail truck. Mervin & his wife Kansey Anders were solid Seventh Day Adventists, lovingly trying to lead as many of their fellow mountain neighbors to God and the Bible as possible.

Mervin was a little suspicious when Walter an older man and Donna a young girl, hitched a ride to go to Brevard together. They did not tell him their plans.

Halfway down to Brevard from Lake Toxaway was the little town of Rosman. It had only a blinking caution light for it's one intersection in town while it straddled the land between the densely wooded mountains and the river.

At that intersection if you turned right you would wind down a narrow two lane blacktop down the steep mountains to Pickens SC. ; where for a fee the justice of the peace would marry a couple with out waiting.

As they got close to that intersection, Walter tapped Mervin on the shoulder & said "you can turn right here Mervin". Mervin started & kept objecting and stated that "Looney Owen" her father would shoot him for that. Donna convinced him that would not be allowed to happen.

Walter told him essentially that if they had to walk and hitchhike they would. Did he want an older man with one leg and a young woman going through some of those rough places?

Mervin relented and took them & they were married. Talk about the mail being late that day!

After 20-30 years of faithfully working for souls, how do you suppose Mervin and Kansey Anders felt when the only male child of Walter and Donna Sutton was baptized into the Seventh Day Adventist Church by immersion in the Davidson River up in the Blue Ridge Parkway?

In the late 1940's Walter Harris Sutton sold the Kennebec Potato to the USDA, he probably did not negociate and without a contract ever being mentioned, only got a small amount for this very popular potato variety.
Walter Harris Sutton June 18-1884.....October 9-1961 Fondly in my memory
by ...........Edward F. Sutton 10-07-51.............and still kicking.

end of part-one.

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Edward F. Sutton

Part-2
Family history of the Kennebec potato & me.
My dad got blood poisoning("ie: lockjaw") from a compound left lower leg fracture & it became gangrenous, and medicine what it was when he was mid 30's - off came that part of the leg. Gone was his hopes of becoming an MD.

He turned to the bottle for solace. @ 6'4" was a "Mean, Violent" drunk. He would strain camphor and or shoe polish through a loaf of bread and drink the residue. He took the "cold turkey cure" 4-5 yrs before I was born and never drank again.

At my repeated insistence he taught me to read at age four. Since I was born with cerebral palsy & did not walk except with braces & help at a much later time than usual, I was a voracious bookworm & still am. I would think nothing of reading a whole book in an afternoon for fun, still don't.

There's been some dust raised about long posts. While it settles I'll wait for Gerry's colorful response. ( It inspires me to type more - for me a couple of pages takes all night.)

P.S. A little redundancy from a private posting of mine in the moderators forum for others to enjoy.

Well suns up time for this Transylvanian to sleep. (Brevard NC, is the county seat of TRANSYLVANIA COUNTY - heh heh ).

You thought I was kidding - not so - we are the only non-Romanian TRANSYLVANIAN'S on Earth.

I work nights, sleep in the day, am very very gooood at getting arterial blood.(worked as a respiratory therapist for years-ABG's by the thousands.) Sleep tight I'll be lurking. Don't get caught with your corpuscles down & you’re out of luck I LOVVVVE Garlic - even though my favorite "stakes" are homemade gluten & not wood.

Ed the "count"-er HUMMM has a nice ring to it "COUNT EDWARD" - They always did want me to get to the point(s). Hummmm something to sink my teeth into maybe ?
Take your vitamins and especially iron - we wouldn't want a certain "fly by nite" to get a diffiency woooould we ?

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Edward F. Sutton

Part-3
Meanwhile, back @ the Ranch.......
Well my Dad taught me to read @ 4. He had odd jobs to help the family income, my mom worked at Olin,(then Ecusta-now is back to Ecusta again.) She worked in endless belt division making woven/sewed tough braided nylon belts for industry. Often she would come home with a needle hole(s) in a through a finger or two.

When I was 18 months old my Dad was working as a dispatcher for the Fire Dept. You had to climb it seemed like 50-75 steps to get up to the dispatchers office above the Main Fire Department. One night he kept hearing "ploop,ploop,ploop,ploop,..... then again ploop,ploop,ploop,ploop,ploop,ploop,.... and so on.

What he found was a black & charcoal gray & white tiger stripe tom kitten trying to climb those steps as earnestly as it could. It would get to almost the last step and give out from fatigue and fall all the way down to just keep starting over & over ....determined to reach the top.

He could not be away from the dispatch mike but for a few seconds, and quickly scooped up the kitten and put it in a box near his desk in the upstairs office and feed it some of his supper. Having almost been an MD he knew what to do to neuter the male kitten before bringing it home. Then accidentally caught the last vertebra of it's tail in the car door @ home trying to keep the surprise that evening. (It healed without incident or crookedness.)

It would be nearly eleven PM-midnight before he would get home. That was too rough on him, he was late 60's-early 70's by now. Mama would get me up in time to run to the kitchen and greet him as he came home. I called the cat "Atomic" because he had so much energy. But in time it shortened to "Tom".

Talk about a one person cat and a one cat kid, we were the "terrible two's" for sure what one didn't get into the other did . He helped me with my cereal & milk every morning from under the tablecloth or in my lap. He had a purr box a chainsaw would envy & claws to match . We played hide and seek, he would wait out of sight till I would finish counting and then try to find me & if he couldn’t I would start giggling soon and give it all away. Or if when it was my turn & he was hid too good he would purr and purr louder and louder till I found him.

The back porch was a tin roof and screened with a non fruiting grape species with a very large leaf, screening half of it for shade . A good sized couch covered with a deep pile carriage blanket with a rich dark background and flower-like diagonal design in strong warm reds and golds. Just above the back of the couch was mom’s bedroom window. They ran the length of one wall. I had a cot @ one end of the room. I had to sleep with a brace on my left leg down to the foot. Was very hard on sheets. It was fun to pull the window up just enough for Tom to slip in streak to my bed and scurry under the covers to sleep at my feet . How he breathed I don’t know & those shoes I had to wear - well one tough kitty. Almost always we got caught & I got in trouble & he got put back out.

My mom’s bed had an underside liner on it & when things got too hot to handle Tom would race through the house & dive under that big four poster & up through the torn liner & “spring city again.” .

There he would sing & play till my sister would start poking with the broom or worse yet start jumping on the bed . Tom hated earthquakes so out he could come squawling and carrying on then off he would run. I could hold him all I wanted , but nobody else for too long.

(Well sorry Gerry ...it’s payday gotta run for now. Going to the bank is a pain with the traffic & clunky car but the money is sorta nice sometimes . I just sign it & she puts it where my pen don’t write.) Her checking account - heh heh.

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Edward F. Sutton

Part-4
Time for back to Brevard - Bozey, the kid & the cat.As a kid I wore a brace built into a heavy brown shoe on my left leg from just below the knee down to the foot.

There was a really great dog my cousins had, we all called him Bozey.Real name Bozo, but the trend was in Western NC to put the (ie or y sound) behind a lot of names. This dog liked it {just so we loved on him a lot & we did-he was a sloppy kisser for sure.} He was a white pit-bull with a brown ear and circle around one eye like the dog on TV at that time.

This particular time there was still a small bank descending from our neighbour's yard onto our yard in front of the back porch/kitchen entrance. There was a juniper/red cedar style tree with a bottom limb just low enough for me to tiptoe or jump and reach. A kid worn path went right under that branch.

That day was like any other till a large Collie came into the neighborhood. He was menacing the kids from all the immediate surrounding families {even the bully who just had to live next to me.)

God had to teach these two, there was no dog to cat 101 language school that we knew of. Bozey and Atomic (Tom for short) cooked up quite a daring plan. If either one failed it could get them both killed.

Bozey got this dog to chase him by confronting him then running slow enough for the tip of his tail to stay just tantilizingly at jaw length ahead of that big screaming mouthful of smelly teeth. That big dog was being run till he was obsessed with Bozey burgers for a right-now snack.

Faster that Jehu's speedometer Bozey circled around and went under the tree coming down from the yard above ours and preparing to go down below our yard and out of the neighborhood. As Bozey went under the tree limb, Tom jumps out of hiding on the limb with an olympian dog slashing scream and this huge cat anchors onto the mid back of the surprised big dog and immediately goes into rototill (high gear-deep plow) with his back feet and securely anchored with his jaws & big front paws.

The dog is no-longer the attacker for Bozey has wheeled around and is nipping the dog where it hurts. These three were last seen leaving the neighborhood at high speed and a lota noise.

Soon Bozey & Tom came back, tired but happy, both so pleased with themselves. I don't know who else got to see it, except me. Big bad Bowser never did come back to our neighborhood again. Which is good, because as I said he was threatening all us kids. God used Bozey & Tom working together to champion us kids that day.

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Edward F. Sutton

Part-5
49 years ago today, I was born. I think all could say with me that I was(we were); born for a purpose. God has a special path built for us and within the width of that path is room for only one thing. Following the Lamb whithersoever He goeth. The tasks involved may vary but the purpose and intent and motivation for these tasks does not.

The warm regard within Jesus the Lamb/Lion, that animates Him will continue to animate me as long as I am walking with Him on the portion of His streight and narrow path that is assigned for me. He sees to that and encourages me to come closer to His fire within.

You can only get warm from a campfire by being near it. Even if it grew to a bonfire to a forestfire, you could still only get warm from it, by being near enough to it to do you any good.

Life took a lot of seeming detours, which I don't feel like writting about on Sabbath.

But an over-riding hand has cleared a way and set the path before me all my life, from even my earliest days.

Right now how I wish I could hear Ralph Henderson sing "Refiners Fire" again, as he would play on his 12 string Martin guitar. It created a yearning intense enough to be painful, yet very sweet.

I do not have the words or music to that song, I wish I could put them here but I can not.

Perhaps they would be intense but sweet for you too?

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Edward F. Sutton

Tom lived to be at least 23 yrs old, he was the last surviving direct link from my Dad - given to me.

When he was old he was very saggy in the tummy, after years of cat fight damage. The female cats coming on the farm where we moved to after my Dad died; we real mad at Tom because being neutered as a kitten he could do nothing for them when they were in heat.

The neighbor below the farm boundary had at least a dozen cats - plus more strays & just as many big dogs.

If Tom had not been neutered he would have been tired and happy all the time. Probably renamed Casanova T. Cat by all the females but that was not to be. If he had never been neutered he might have become a mean tom cat and that is what my Dad was afraid of with his infant son and "nipped it in the bud" (ouch).

But that’s too far ahead in the story. It's time to go back to Brevard & Chef Eddie and the open refrigerator.

Part-5
Back to Brevard & Chef Eddie and the open refrigerator.
I was about five years old & just getting into laser & Einstein’s theories, and had been reading proficiently for about a year. I was a mad scientist / techno geek in the making & an avid devote of my “idol” my Dad, as well as TV and comic books, books in general, (he bought me 100's of reference books & National Geographics & sets of Encyclopedias and so on.) Cookbooks were well ensconced in there somewhere too. Dad was from the old school (literally) and growing up - had been schooled in the best schools of Europe . He was among many things capable of equaling almost any chef in the kitchen.

Guess who picked up the genetic bent to concocting things ? He could whip up a grilled cheese sandwich or a crown rack of lamb or prime rib, but there was something about Mama’s cooking that was every day, nose flaring, tummy growling, forgot to use soap and washed my hands in the now muddy towel - GOOD !

I guess when you’re always hungry it helps. One thing boys are - is - hungry. Just a little too high for full viewing on the kitchen counter was Mama’s electric skillet, that she did all these fantastic things with-that smelled and tasted so gooood.

One day when the grownups were somewhere else & I saw a chance to try it out. I went in the kitchen and pulled up a chair so I would be tall enough to do & see & enjoy stuff. I had pulled most of the eggs & bacon out of the fridge and was busy imitating how I had seen it done before. I remembered the heat settings I had see Mom & others use & put that on there. Reasonably skillfully broken & checked the eggs for bad spots the oiled or buttered(don’t remember which) the pan a little & filled one side with eggs frying “sunny side up’ and had bacon sizzling covering the other side & had even salted & peppered the top side of the eggs already.

Little did I stop to think that the familiar mix of smells that helped whet my ever present two-hollow legged appetite would not stop at the kitchen door. Whoops I got caught. I hadn’t thought about anything but cooking stuff my self, not what to do with it after cooking it, or cleaning up or nothing, just cooking stuff. I am still somewhat like that, but now sometimes plan ahead better.

I think Dad was home, I am no longer sure. However, soon I was to be taught to cook so that I would not possibly ruin all the families food . I don’t remember getting in trouble, but do remember getting trained how to store food after cooking & how to serve it & clean up the kitchen . To me then the sink was so big that it was almost like a swimming pool full of warm bubble bath to play in. In fact when younger I got baths in that same big stainless steel kitchen sink. Garbage disposals & sprayers were considered new things in the little mountain town of Brevard , NC.

Sitting here typing I am trying to remember some of my favorite foods from then I would still eat now. Well for one, rutabagas (the big waxed ones you had to peel & cut in slivers or chunks and stew for a while.) And Parsnips and turnips, mashed potatoes piled high & steaming - flagrant and topped with margarine or homemade dark gravy, whole cooked onions caramelized and savory in dark broth, fried okra & biscuits , sliced store bought bread was good but homemade bread & corn bread & such was lots better. Dairy and meat was plentiful and my Dad’s moto was “eat the fat it makes it taste better” That was before we knew better. Still in the 1950's ,when it was safe to walk to and from school or even across town any hour of the day or night - by boy or girl, man or woman. Most people did not suspect disease in their foods or even know there was a better way to eat than how they had been raised for generations.

The kitchen for me is a place of creation, discovery, culinary passion, triumphs of success and the agony of defeat (not to mention the smell & humiliation incurred when neighborhood starving semi-wild dogs refuse to enter the same yard with much less eat, one my many disasters. Oh well the sewer system still accepts them gracefully . Some of them I should have sold to the military for biologic weapons or exotic alternate fuel sources - if only I could remember how I created those stinking almost radioactive messes in the first place.)

My Mom possibly saw it coming after I mixed some of my Dad’s potent stinky vitamins in a big coffee can and boiled them on the stove. This created a thick dark green, blue, gray foam that promptly flowed down the burner onto the oven jacket where it could not be reached and stayed for the next six to nine months till it was fully destroyed by the heat from the oven. Mama had the flu and was off work, in bed sick as a dog. I ran in squealing the can was on the burner & the burner was red hot & I couldn’t get it off . She reached for her glasses, got up, and wearily got in the kitchen, remedied the situation on the stove-top and I think I got a whipping for that one. The thanksgiving and Christmas dinners smelled really different that year - even though it was summer when I did this escapade. The aroma was reminiscent of B-vitamins, fish oil, burnt popcorn , and a hint of sewer redolently served up on what ever was cooked on that stove for a long time.

Cooking had become one of the loves of my life, but was intertwined with a passion to create the different, the new, the strange and exotic, hopefully the eatable & good tasting ; as well as imitate others. Life was never the same. Even more fun was the back porch, chemistry sets, kitchen ingredients, old or new sheets, scissors, markers, staplers, but that’s another story.

I still wonder what God’s favorite food is ? If I will get to cook in Heaven ?

I am tickled to know that they had chilli in Jesus’s day. They tithed cumin {He said so} - That’s all I needed to know - To Me - they had some form of chilli.

Well enough for now, more later, as I learn how to “sew” with a stapler and set the back porch on fire with sparklers. My parents earned their gray hair.

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Edward F. Sutton

Part-6
Sewing with a stapler & A la sparkler back porch flambee’
We had a large screened back porch, that had a screened view on three sides. The house was built on sloping ground so at the screen door it was level with the ground, but by the other end the floor was at least five feet above ground so the view was good. One side next to the kitchen was shaded most of the year by a large planting of climbing of a nonfruiting variety of wide leaf grape. The roof was tin and it lulled you to sleep very deeply during rains. On the elevated end was a good sized table next to the screen running long ways and a nice deep couch paralleling it next to the exterior bedroom windows. Going toward the kitchen at the end of the couch was an enameled white metal table, then the door into the kitchen, then a large kitchen window, then the screen door.

Remember that basic layout. I had a nice set of logistics running. From the couch (where the cat “atomic”{Tom} for short) was allowed all I had to do was push open the bedroom window a few inches and in he would quickly slip. Kept getting in trouble for that. The couch was good for reading and dreaming and designing.

I would take my various favorite comic book costumes and get old sheets my Mom let be used for the purpose, (they always became rags if there were anything left). I got my box of crayons, scissors, and a stapler and went to work drawing, cutting, and since I couldn’t sew I’d staple the creations together as I prepared to go out and “save the world, whip the bad guys, and be back home by lunch - especially if it was grilled cheese sandwiches & tomato soup - or chicken noodle . Having a Mom that supported the family wasn’t as good as when she was home. Especially when she cooked , little boys are always hungry .

The seasons seemed to roll together as only a young child’s mind lets them blur. It was now winter and snow on the ground. Every kids delight and just a normal occurrence in the mountains. There was a wire fence with dead weeds twined on it, and I discovered that if a lit match was applied to the bottoms of the tuffs they would whoosh into a ball of fire with gratifying speed for an inquisitive boy with matches (within limits). There was a few sparklers left on the metal table on the back porch. On a foil pie plate, on top of a tall stack on newspapers. I got tired of playing with them and left them , still smoldering on the pie pan and was out in the snow burning weed tuffs on the fence when I looked up and saw smoke and flames coming from the back porch. Fortunately my Dad was cool headed and had filled a skillet with water and was dousing the fire. Since I had not tried to burn the newspapers and had left the sparklers on the pie pan - no spanking that time.

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Edward F. Sutton

Top

Long distance phone calls,Gather's Restaurant shrimp, and I am in trouble again.
During the last century, in the early to mid 1950's long distance phone calls were a rarity and on a party line; almost like internet chat except it was real chat not typing. Hold that thought it'll be handy later on.

In the sleepy little mountain town of Brevard NC, (pronounced Bree-vard) was a slightly progressive restaurant that served of all things shrimp cocktail. At first they brought to mind giant cockroaches skinned and boiled. I was right the first time, just got to liking em and it was years before I knew better.

My Dad patiently worked to add culture to his son's limited life and taught me to develop a taste for shrimp cocktail. I was at an age where every hair on the crown of my head went in a different direction and my black horn rim glasses weighed almost as much as I did, or so it seemed.

Later that would backfire on him and probably get me spanked ( I don't remember).

My Mom had deveined a large Melamac bowl of shrimp (expensive then) and gotten a big bottle of shrimp cocktail sauce and fixed them as the entree for supper.

We got a phone call-long distance no less and everyone but me left the table to talk to the person several states away, possibly even California. (ICQ is causing a page problem so I will post now & finish later.)

Back again. Everyone was spending a lot of time on the phone and only one hungry little boy and a big bowl of shrimp was at the table, maybe my cat too I don't remember. They were taking too long and I didn't have patience to wait. So I just ate one, and some sauce, then another and another and another till the bowl was empty and I was full.

Did I happen to say, two things can settle your full tummy very very well. Spanking & going to your room without desert. I probably got both I don't remember. I am not sure but I think I dimly remember hearing "You're the one who taught him how to like um."

The moral is if you're going to talk on the phone at meal time get a headset or speaker phone. Don't have a hollow legged child sitting at the table, looking at the food, sharpening his teeth, an rolling his eyes with delight. You'll have to cook something else for dinner. My Mom did.

for some reason they never left me alone at the table again for years. That is till after my Dad died and my Mom remarried and her husband was doing the drunk thing on his sister's living room carpet and I was left alone with a {once}large thanksgiving dinner with{once}all the trimmings as an even hungrier early teenager. I remember that whipping believe me.

If food is consolation, I had enough for two families that day. If thermogenics is the burning of calories, I got a few thousand thermogonized out of each posterior cheek when my mom got me home. Flyswatter city.

They had to go out to a restaurant to eat thanksgiving dinner that day, and we took my stinky step Dad home. I don't know which of us was less popular him or me ? He could sober up faster than I could sit down .

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Digressing back to just about age ten. Soon my world was to fall apart, it was good not to know any sooner.
My first hero was my Dad. He was 6'4" tall, not bodybuilder muscular, not fat just tall and big. His hair was gray to silver and his eyebrows were slightly darker and bushy curling upwards especially at the edges.

His left leg below the knee was prosthetic. One finger was canted at the last digit where I had shut the car door on it by accident and broke it years before. I cried for a long time about that. He immediately forgave me and let me know it was an accident.

But now it was two days after my tenth birthday, it was a Monday October 9th 1961. Dad had not been feeling good for a few days and at age 77 his health was not so good.

Years of rough living, alcohol though given up five years before I was thought of, had taken it's toll; as had decades of smoking. His abdominal aorta was bulging in spots and leaking and he knew it was just a matter of time. In those days the replacement surgery was very new and dangerous and would bankrupt the family and take the house.

Having come close to becoming an MD at one time, he knew the outcome awaiting him.

That Monday evening Mom had went in to give him his shot, and the bed had a large circle of blood. He was not voiding urine, but blood and rapidly. Uncle Rastus was called right after the ambulance, and he came and took me to his house. I stayed with my Aunt Lucy while he went to the hospital. My sister was at work at the Biltmore Dairy across town.

Lois had, had an argument with Dad that afternoon and they had not had the chance to talk since, she never got to tell her Dad she loved him and apologize for her angry words.

I sat in the back bedroom at Ras and Lucy's and stared out the window from across the room . At 8:30 PM on the dot I saw my Dad's face briefly like a picture through the window. I knew with all dread that he had just died. It would be nearly ten years before I learned that the dead know not anything . I would carry false theories regarding what I had seen and knew in my heart.

When Rastus got home, I don't remember if told him Dad had died at 8:30 PM or just waited while he told me. My supposedly secure world crashed down, never to be the same again.
I do not know much of what happened with my Mom and sister the next few days. Life then, now seems a faint distant blur that almost happened to a kid I only faintly remember. I did not have the hope to see my Dad again. as little as I knew about God, seemed more than my family knew as a whole. SDA's had worked with my family unbeknownst to me, and one by one my family either rejected those efforts or waited for a more convenient season.

If they had responded to that, and followed up on it, their lives would have been so different and full of hope instead of hopelessness and trying to fill the void with other stuff. We could have known Him who is the Ressurection and the life.

If my Dad had embraced it, he could have brought my Mom over to it and sheltered my sister and me in that hope. He might have persuaded the rest of the family, I will never know I could only wonder.

Men, get right with God and bring your families with you. You are not made of Iron and Granite, what you suppose is secure may not be and time is not yours to command. My Dad knew his time was running out, but I never saw him build for eternity. Put things into perspective and drop away the unimportant stuff, get right with God and bring your family to Him and keep them there.

God is your only security and He is your only hope of endless time and success.

Not all my memories are happy and sweet, but may they all be turned unto eternal usefulness for someone. God did not depend upon a failing family to be the only ones to raise me. He stepped in too. He will for you also.

Jeremiah 29:
11 For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.
12 Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you.
13 And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.
14 And I will be found of you, saith the LORD: and I will turn away your captivity, and I will gather you from all the nations, and from all the places whither I have driven you, saith the LORD; and I will bring you again into the place whence I caused you to be carried away captive.

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Ten Years have all too swiftly flown away ............... have lived in two other states and traveled with polysomnography............now back in Nashville Tennessee............had not planned it that way................hair is thinner and only streaks of darkness left.................only seems like yesterday I one finger plunked out the words ............not ten years....................as I sit and listen to the strains of Havana by Kenny G .............. time where have you gone. ...............one child eloped with his girlfriend ..............walked my last child down the Aisle in her white gown............though time seems very vocal in the now and here......................it quietly distracts you and slips away .............. how quickly a decade has passed ...... never more to return............only intactly surviving in the Books of Heaven. Swift feet your passing as not been altogether kind. Kenny G's song "forever in love"........ a silent Adieu
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Edward F Sutton

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Almost a decade has passed since the last post. Isa - Jesus Christ of whom Isaiah wrote in Isaiah chapter 53 is my Lord, Father God The Most High Ancient of Days is my Father, The Holy Ghost who gifted the eternal Spirit Isa into the womb of Mary, is my second Comforter Whom Isa the first Comforter sent. My lifestyle is the straight path of virtue spoken of by Injeel/KJV Bible and my diet plants only, and no alcohol or tobacco, Isa is my path and righteousness and source of life and love and surrender to the Most High. I am lead further than Rome's brand of Christian and culture's brand Islam - I am a Seventh Day Adventist a Christian after the order of the ancient faith of Noah, Abraham, Moses, Daniel, John the Baptist, Mary, Isa, Paul, John, Peter, and the present truths the angel Gabriel gave through EGW to guide along the straight path in the present day.

Look me up on facebook if you seek the one who spoke to Moses in the burning bush so long ago . I would like to share what He has done and is doing for me and in me and promises me.

Family history of the Kennebec potato & me.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

photos of Brevard NC

Sutton History - Brevard NC - Ed Sutton & Family