As I sat in the middle of the living room floor going through photos and asking who people were I once again decided to ask who these people were. As my grandfather told me, I wrote on the back of the photo. (I was young and didn't know better at the time). The lady on the front row is Amanda Elizabeth Dougan Clark, daughter of Joseph and Nancy Dougan aka my gg grandmother. I had always planned on naming my little girl after her, but it never worked out that way since I had both boys.
"Grannie Clark's" brother's and sisters
That title was written by my grandmother, Amanda's granddaughter. The handwritting on the left written in a totally different direction is that of mine as my grandfather began to tell me who people were. There are two other handwrittings, that which is in green ink, and then the blue ink which is circled. I have decided that these are actually not Clark Siblings, but instead Goodman siblings. Amanda's mother Nancy became a widow during the Civil War when her husband died in Arkansas due to diesease. She later remarried a man by the name of Marcus Goodman and they had several children together. I have figured out a few of them, but I can not make out the green writting to the right of what says "Bill Clark". I do not know who the elderly man in the front is either. I also want to know who wrote: "My Mom Susan". I can not find a Susan on the goodman tree and don't know who she is. Their identification has alluded me all these years.
Who are you? How old is this photo? Where was this picture taken?
No one knows, but one day I will figure it all out....
Even though the exterior and interior of the house has been changed, the memories of my childhood still remain. I stopped to ask the current owners if I could take a few pictures and explained to them why. They gracioiusly offered to allow me into their home so that I could see what they had done to the inside. "Today we are so wrapped up in our lives we dont stop and take time to remember." Yet these two wonderful people let a complete stranger into their home and shared a little bit of life with me and for that hour they allowed gave me great pleasure. Even though the walls have been knocked down and rooms moved and remodeled, I still remember life as it once existed. This is the house that I learned to cook in! This is the house where I learned how to pray! This is the house where I learned the meaning of Family! This is the house that I learned what love is! 
Even though it is only a bunch of grass and a few bare spots now. Once this large section of the yard to the right of the house was my great-grandmother's garden. Up against the fence stretched two rows of Grapevines, followed by rows of corn, raddishes, beets, potatoes, cuccumbers, tomatos, onions, squash, mustard greens, green beans, peas, okra and the last row was CABBAGE! Yet, another butt whoopin' I remeber getting. Every day, my grandmother and I would go out and help her pick veggies for dinner or lunch that day. One particular day, I decided I would go out and pick the cabbage for dinner that night. Only thing was, I picked two whole rows of it. Needless to say, that was not what she wanted. So my job was to return each and every head back to it's home before PaPa returned home in order for me not to be in trouble. I didn't get it done in time needless to say....+Wesley+Baker.jpg)
The other memory I have is of something that reminded me of a bridge tower. However, I never could exactly find out what that was. Until April of 2007. When I first spoke to my cousin I mentioned the memory and she instantly told me it was the 
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