Family Feud

Ever had a gripe with your neighbor? Maybe things started going bad when their dog barked endlessly, you complain, they say screw you. They won't share the cost of the fence you need to put up to hide their trashed out yard. Weeds grow to 3 feet along the property border and get in your lawn. Parties are loud and last until dawn. You try to talk it out and they flip you off. Looking in the mailbox one day, you find a citation for not clearing the walks of snow, the complaint is signed by them. These things didn't happen to the Hatfields and McCoys,but the rest of this did. Your daughter runs off with their no good son, who gets her pregnant. He leaves her hanging, runs off to marry her cousin (at least it wasn't his own cousin), and gets her pregnant as well. Throw in some funky genetics caused by marrying cousins for about 100 years, and you have a feud brewing. The Hatfields and McCoys lived across the Tug Fork river from one another. In 1873 there was already a feud brewing when a dispute arose over ownership of a pig. Floyd Hatfield had it, Randolf McCoy said it was his. The local justice was a Hatfield, and he decided it was the Hatfield's pig. That meant war. Then the McCoy ran off with the Hatfield girl, who was a cousin as well as a sister to most of the guys in the neighborhood. A Hatfield was murdered in 1882 by 3 McCoy brothers, stabbed 26 times and finished off with a shot. For revenge, the Hatfields kidnapped a McCoy, tied him to some pawpaw bushes, and riddled his body with bullets. Between 1880 and 1891, more than a dozen members of both families were killed. It was finally settled by forces sent out by the governor of West Virginia. It turns out that the Hatfield hotel, where we're staying, is owned by a Hatfield, a direct descendant of the original father. Old man Hatfield's picture hangs over the front desk. I spent some time talking to the manager yesterday, then read the historical plaque in the lobby. After all these years the feud is legendary but over. The two families appeared on Family Feud a few years ago.

We arrived in Leitchfield yesterday after riding 65 hilly miles from Owensboro. It took us about 6 hours to ride the distance. The backroads of Kentucky bring to mind Deliverance, bugs buzzing, chirping, crawling, and all other critters living in the woods. When we see a no tresspassing sign or a notice that says don't stop to pet the dog, we pay close attention. As they say around here, you don't want to get in someone else's patch. Our habit lately is to stop around lunch to get ice cream and a drink, and we were true to form yesterday. The locals at the corner store are very social, so we talk to them about local things, and I marvel at the backwoods accent. The roads curve and rise and fall like a supermodel's body. Laura might not see it that way. We shift up, then down, up, then down, up, then down, for hours. Eventually we arrive in a small town. All along the way our skin is slick, our clothes soaked. Things don't dry until we hit the air conditioning in the motel lobby, where we start to freeze. As I wrote the blog last night, a huge thunderstorm hit and the power went out in the entire town, alas I lost the whole thing I started over this morning, hurrying a little because we have to leave soon. Today we plan to ride to Mammoth Cave, which is only about 35 miles from here. Tomorrow is a day off to look at the caves, which are the largest in the world. Lodging for tonight is undetermined, may be rather primitive at the park. When we leave the park on Sat. we are going to head directly into Hatfield vs. McCoy country. No pics today due to all the technical difficulties, more tomorrow if possible.