Since my web counter on this page and Mike’s email inbox indicate that a number of Plunks are joining us, I’ll share another ancestor story. By the way, folks, if you have any other fun Plunk stories that you’d like to share, drop me a line and I’ll see if we can post them. There’s also that comment button for your participation at the end of each post.
Back on point. This little ditty is about James Neville Gaddy of North Carolina. Neville is Mike’s great-great-grandfather. He didn’t make it to McNairy County, but his son, Edmond, did. Edmond married, and his first-born, Nona, married David Simpson Plunk. They were Mike’s grandparents. As a point of interest, Mike had an Uncle James, an Uncle Neville, Cousin Nona, and Mike’s middle name is David. Tight family.
But, back to Neville. When he wasn’t fathering his six children, he went off to the Civil War wearing a gray uniform and was one of the lucky men to return home in one piece. As the story goes – and Mike heard this from a great-uncle – one May afternoon in 1871 Neville had been hoisting a few, but reached the bottom of his jug. He knew how to solve the problem, though, because there was more whiskey available on the other side of Richardson’s Creek.
Neville, 34 years old, climbed into his canoe and headed out on his whiskey run. But the stream ran swiftly and pushed the light canoe toward the mill dam. Since his judgment and canoe skills were impaired by his afternoon’s imbibing, Neville never got that next jug of whiskey. His canoe was pushed over the dam and Neville drowned while onlookers on shore watched helplessly.
In family history, Neville met a noble end in pursuit of a worthy goal. I’ll drink to that.