Stories From Granny Mac's Patch

Once storyteller’s tales were repeated for generations. Folks called her Granny Mac. Mildred MacMahon was her name. Could she tell a story! Granny; had one for every occasion. They were usually about the William Bean family, who moved into Tennessee in 1768. You see, Granny Mac was a Bean Sprout. That expression describes that this person is kin to the Bean family of Tennessee. The Beans here are descendants of folks who came to the United States from Scotland by way of Ireland. They are called Scotch-Irish in Appalachia.

Purists be warned. These stories are neither historically nor genealogically precise. They are, however, woven out of true adventures that members of my family have experienced. Many incidents have been verified in Tennessee’s court, military and family records.

One storyteller’s tales were repeated for generations. Folks called her Granny Mac. Mildred MacMahon was her name. Could she tell a story! Granny had one for every occasion. They were usually about the William Bean family, who moved into Tennessee in 1768. You see, Granny Mac was a Bean Sprout. That expression describes that this person is kin to the Bean family of Tennessee. The Beans here are descendants of folks who came to the United States from Scotland by way of Ireland. They are called Scotch-Irish in Appalachia.

Mamie Payne Raulston, another Bean Sprout, was the next keeper of the stories told by Granny Mac. She was born in the Old Payne House in Sweeten’s Cove back in the 1880s. That was the home the Paynes bought from the Hise family. You will hear about it in the stories. Cousin Mamie first told me about our storytelling Granny Mac on a beautiful summer day in the 1970s.

I have also heard about other family adventures from Cousin Barbara Freshwater, who loves genealogy, and whose mother was a Payne Bean Sprout. She said I had the names and events mixed up in the stories. I told her there was no way for me to know who first told them. Nor could I, or anyone, avoid their getting twisted after having been told by so many, but they happened. Additionally Barbara supplied many of the photographs of relevant settings. So thanks to her for this contribution.

Who am I to say this? My name is Christyna Jensen. That name is definitely not Tennesseen. Where did that name come from? My mother was another Payne Bean Sprout who married a Dane. She always told me that, to find a man to marry who wasn’t a cousin, she had to go to California. She twisted my name out of the Danish spelling by using y and a in it, because she thought they looked pretty. Which is an example of how innocent distortion of truth can occur while leaving it true.

Granny Mac’s Patch lay in the Gourd’s Neck, smack-dab in the middle of Sweeten’s Cove, Tennessee. The hills narrow down there around her patch of land to give it a hug. Even if it was a far piece for some folks to travel to get there; everyone always said the way to Granny’s house was never long, it was the trip back to their place that near killed them.

You see, Granny Mac loved people . . . young’uns and old’uns, and even the hard to understand, let alone get along with, middleaged’uns. So, everyone just naturally loved her back. If ever anyone had a problem, their first thought was to go tell Granny Mac all about it. Everyone knew she’d listen. Then she’d know just what to do to ease their mind . . . usually it was to tell them a story. Folks didn’t find her advice so hard to take, with it all wrapped up and delivered that way. She done pure magic with just a few special tales.

                                    Listen …