You won’t find the name of Cassandra Dunn in any history book, nor will you find the epic story of her family’s journey downriver on a flatboat and eventually building on the new and uncharted frontier of the mid-West. This is not the story of a famous frontier heroine, but only because historians never came across her story.
Have you ever wanted to know more details about your own forefathers? Bonny and I quickly discovered how Traveling could do just that. Oh sure, almost anyone you ask can tell you their infamous family stories handed down through the generations, but what about them and their lives do you really know, how they lived and breathed in days before access to the modern conveniences of today—more importantly, and perhaps more daunting, how you came to have such a unique personality.
Once you come to know the realities of the Traveling phenomenon, what would stop you from finally discovering your true heritage, back to its basic roots? The very thought of actually reliving or even just viewing the lives of our ancestors may be too much for some to begin to grasp, but just try to conceive of the possibilities and implications.
This is one of many transcripts that we have that has allowed Bonny to know more about who she is from knowing the legacy left by her lineage. Here is one simple story from her family’s past that gives her a sense of pride that can be gained in no other way. Here is the story of Cassandra, a frontier woman.
Bonny: We’ve made camp for the night.
John: How far have you traveled today?
Bonny: My papa says we’re somewhere in Virginia.
John: Did you start this trek some days ago?
Bonny: Oh, a long time.
John: More than just a few days?
Bonny: Yes. Mama’s making beds for us so we can sleep under the wagons.
John: What was the reason for leaving your home?
Bonny: Well, papa’s older brother inherited everything.
John: Where?
Bonny: In Maryland. My grandpa died, and papa said, we’ll make our own way.
John: Oh, I see, so West seemed like the best place to go?
Bonny: Yes. My little brother, James, got itchies all over him. Don’t know what we walked through, but he’s got itchies all over him. [I saw a little boy with dark brown hair that looked like he had a rash all over him almost like someone who had come in contact with poison ivy.]
John: Do you have a salve, or something to put on him?
Bonny: Mama doesn’t have anything.
John: So what will you do to help him?
Bonny: He’s just itchin’. She scrubbed him good. [I saw the little boy being scrubbed til he was red, but it also appeared that the mother rubbed something on to his little body.]
John: Poor little guy. How old is he?
Bonny: He’s five.
John: How old are you?
Bonny: I’m nine.
John: Do you have any other brothers or sisters?
Bonny: Yes. My brother, Robert, he’s twelve, and I have a brother, Christopher, he’s eight.
John: Your papa’s name?
Bonny: His name is James, too. My brother’s named after him, my little brother.
John: What about your mama?
Bonny: Her name is Elizabeth.
John: And you weren’t named after your mama (I didn’t know, but didn’t want to assume)?
Bonny: Nope. My name is Cassandra.
John: Did they give you a middle name?
Bonny: Cassandra is long enough! [I felt how odd someone would ask for a middle name when Cassandra was so long to write, maybe he didn’t know how long it was or maybe he didn’t know how to write himself].
John: Have you had any schooling yet?
Bonny: I know how to write my name. I can read some; we read in the Bible.
John: You’ve done that through your mama helping you, or have you gone to school? [I remember thinking what a dumb question, but maybe he is from England where they have formal schools.]
Bonny: No. My mama helped me.
John: Has any of your siblings gone to school?
Bonny: Siblings?
John: Did your other brothers go to school? [I thought he must not be from here, cause most all country folk are taught how to read and write at home].
Bonny: No.
John: Did your mama or daddy go to school when they were young, did they ever talk about it?
Bonny: No.
John: Has papa described to you what to expect when you get there?
Bonny: It’s a territory, a wilderness. He said we might run into Indians.
John: That should be exciting.
Bonny: I don’t know, I’m scared a Indians. [Yes, really exciting to have your hair hanging from a tomahawk.]
John: Did you leave a really nice home when you left? [As he made this remark I could see Cassandra’s grandfather’s home, her home until he died and I wanted to cry, but Papa said we would have better just to wait and see].
Bonny: Yes. That’s all right, it don’t belong to us no more.
John: What do you have to sleep in tonight?
Bonny: We go pallets under the wagon, just blankets.
John: Do you help mama cook the food?
Bonny: Oh, not really. Still too little, and the pans are heavy to carry. She’s cookin’ over a fire. Papa made sompem for her to hang her pots on.
John: Is she used to cooking this way?
Bonny: I don’t know, but she does a good job, though. [I had never seen my Mama cooking before we left to come West, as we had servants to wait on us and cook for us.]
John: What has she cooked?
Bonny: We had squirrel stew tonight.
John: And who caught the squirrel?
Bonny: My papa.
John: Did your brothers help, or did he go out by himself?
Bonny: No, he went by himself.
John: So your brothers aren’t old enough to help with hunting and those kinds of things?
Bonny: Well, it’s scary here. There’s lots a woods. It’s not like where the land’s cleared; at home the land’s cleared.
John: When you lived back with your grandpa, did you have friends that lived close by?
Bonny: No. My grandfather had a plantation.
John: What kind of crops did he grow?
Bonny: Tobacco.
John: Hm, I thought they grew tobacco further South? [I thought he don’t know nothing about crops and growing things.]
Bonny: No. Grows in Maryland, too.
John: Did your dad help on the plantation, or did he do something else for work?
Bonny: No. He helped, but then it went to his brother William.
John: I want to take you into the future, to a point in your life that’s of particular interest to you, something out of the ordinary. What do you see take place?
Bonny: We have a flat boat. We’re loadin’ things on the flat boat. We’re goin’ to get on the river. Papa says that we’ll get to where we need to go a lot faster on the river. [When I saw the flat boat I could feel the excitement of floating down the river.]
John: Where did you get the flat boat?
Bonny: Papa and his friends made it.
John: Made it?
Bonny: Yes. You cut down the wood.
John: Where did he find these friends?
Bonny: They been with us. He was in the...was in the Army.
John: They’ve been traveling with you?
Bonny: Yes.
John: Do you know where you are right now, getting on this flat boat?
Bonny: I’m not sure, but it’s goin’ to take us...it’s a big river.
John: What river is it?
Bonny: Don’t know the name.
John: Are you going to cross, or travel down the river?
Bonny: We’re goin’ to travel down the river. There’s three families. [I saw the water of this river, how swiftly it moved, and thought of how much fun it was going to be.]
John: Are you familiar with these other families?
Bonny: They’re friends of papa’s.
John: Do they have any children your age?
Bonny: They got boys, too.
John: No girls?
Bonny: No. I wish I had a little sister.
John: Do you know the names of papa’s friends?
Bonny: Yes. There’s James Dunn.
John: Same name as your dad?
Bonny: Yes. I don’t know the other man’s name.
John: Does James Dunn have a wife and children?
Bonny: His wife’s name is Jane. They got babies...one’s name’s Mary, and then they have a son, and...I...what is his name? He’s cute, don’t know the name, can’t think.
John: Do the other families have boys and girls?
Bonny: Just boys.
John: Do you know any of them?
Bonny: They have a son named Peter. He’s my brother’s age, big brother.
John: About 12?
Bonny: Yes.
John: Can’t remember his last name?
Bonny: Yes, it’s funny, Schote, Schote, Chote?
John: Are they foreigners from another country?
Bonny: It’s French, Chote.
John: And both mom and dad are French?
Bonny: Mine?
John: No, Pete’s mother and father.
Bonny: Yes, Chote.
John: Do they speak with a funny accent?
Bonny: They speak...I don’t think they have a funny accent.
John: You said this was a special event...
Bonny: It’s goin’ to be fun, we won’t be walkin’ through itchies anymore. And you know what? They got bushes that have got thorns on ‘em, and they hurt, they rip my dress. Mama sewed my dress and patched it up. There’s no place to take baths; I don’t like to be dirty.
John: There won’t be any place to take a bath on the river, either, unless you jump in the river.
Bonny: I’d like that. I know how to swim. [I once again remembered learning to swim on the river near my grandfather’s home…our home.]
John: We’re going to go forward once again to the point where you arrive where papa says that you’re going to stay. What’s it look like here?
Bonny: It’s got lots a hills, and lots and lots of big, thick trees. Papa wants to stay close to the river. Wants to build close to the river. But mama says, no, she doesn’t want to build that close to the river.
John: Afraid someone will get hurt?
Bonny: Sometimes when it rains a lot, it floods. Papa says the soils good for growin’.
John: What does he call this place?
Bonny: Shelby. He calls it Shelby, and we’re goin’ to stay here. Women don’t have much say.
John: Did the other two families decide to stay here, too?
Bonny: They’re stayin’ in the area, but not...papa’s marked our land out.
John: What does he want to grow?
Bonny: He’s got corn with him. We’ll farm for a while, could grow tobacco. Good land for that. Not too far from the river.
John: How long did it take you to finally get here?
Bonny: Long time, I don’t know, long time.
John: You’re not ten yet, are you?
Bonny: No.
John: So, a couple of months, maybe?
Bonny: No, I just turned nine when we left, I’m almost ten, though.
John: When’s your birthday?
Bonny: My birthday’s June 7th.
John: What year were you born, let’s see, count back nine years.
Bonny: It’s 77, nine years...
John: That’s a hard one, isn’t it? Do you know your math?
Bonny: No.
John: That means it’s 1768. Were you born in 1768?
Bonny: Girls don’t learn Math. I know how to write my name; that’s always necessary.
John: Can you spell it for me?
Bonny: Cassandra...C a s s a n d r a.
John: And your mama decided to spell it with a C and not a K?
Bonny: It’s a C.
John: We’re going to go forward to the very time that the home that your papa built is finished and you’re ready to move in. What does it look like?
Bonny: It’s a log cabin. He’s got a loft that we climb up on the ladder to get up to where we sleep. Mama and papa got a room off of the kitchen. We don’t, we just don’t have a parlor, we just have a kitchen, and a table, and a fireplace to cook and heat...
John: Your papa built this all by himself?
Bonny: No, he had help. Mr. Chote and Mr. James Dunn helped. They’re helpin’ to clear the land. Mama’s helpin’ too. Mama’s hands look awful. She had such pretty hands, and there are blisters on her hands, now. Papa says some day she won’t have to worry. Some day we’ll have a bigger plantation than his brother. And we’ll have slaves to take care of us.
John: Have you reached the ripe old age of ten, yet?
Bonny: Yes.
John: How long ago was that?
Bonny: About four months ago.
John: Anything significant happen in your family, everyone healthy?
Bonny: Yes, except James is always gettin’ into trouble. Mama says he’s worse than anybody she’s ever seen. Just always dirty all the time, findin’ things to get into. He pulls my hair. I don’t like havin’ brothers.
John: Does your cabin have a floor, or is it dirt?
Bonny: We have a dirt floor.
John: Then it’s not surprising that he’s always dirty, huh? Will papa put a floor in?
Bonny: Can’t do it right now. Got other things to do. He says, promised mama he’d put a floor in when the crops are done, and we can harvest. We been diggin’ down in the ground so he can put things in the ground for the Winter. Lot a work to do. Mama’s teachin’ me to quilt. We went out, we had some Geese, and she rung their necks, and she cleaned ‘em, and we’re goin’ to eat ‘em. And you know what?
John: Going to use the feathers?
Bonny: Yep. That’s what we’re goin’ to do. She puts ‘em in hot water, and then we had to pull all the feathers out a ‘em.
John: Soft feathers?
Bonny: Yes. She’s gonna make us mattresses with ‘em. We’ll be warm this Winter. Gettin’ lots of firewood in.
John: What about the other two families, are they done with their homes?
Bonny: They’re livin’ in ‘em. They’re not done like ours, but they’re livin’ in ‘em. They still cook outdoors, though. Mama does sometimes, too, because she says it’s too hot in the cabin to cook in the Summer. We got our oxen. I think we’ll be OK. Haven’t seen no Indians, though.
John: Well, we want to go forward in your life to an event that brings you joy and happiness and excitement. How old are you right now?
Bonny: I’m seventeen.
John: Are you and your family still living in the log cabin?
Bonny: Oh, no.
John: Hm, how long has that been?
Bonny: Oh, we been in our new home about three years, maybe.
John: Was the new home built in the same place, or further away?
Bonny: It’s in the same place; it’s up on a hill. We can see the river.
John: Did your papa build it?
Bonny: Well, we have other people in now. Other families moved in around, and they helped papa. We have a beautiful home. They’re building a settlement near us.
John: Do they still call the name of the place, Shelby?
Bonny: Yes. The settlement’s goin’ to be named Shelbyville.
John: Is that after the name of some man that you know?
Bonny: It’s after my daddy’s plantation.
John: But your daddy’s name is James. [I found myself thinking what a silly man, he’s surely not from here, does he not know that our plantation is named Shelby…goodness!]
Bonny: Pritchard.
John: So, where did Shelby come from?
Bonny: I don’t know.
John: So, what’s going on today?
Bonny: I’m marrying James Dunn, Jr.
John: And papa says that you’re old enough?
Bonny: Yes.
John: And what caught your eye about him?
Bonny: He’s just special.
John: Now, you two haven’t kissed each other yet, have you?
Bonny: (She nods her head, shyly.)
John: Ah, I can’t believe it. You haven’t told mama or papa, have you?
Bonny: They’d tan my hide, good.
John: So, who will marry you?
Bonny: We have a man who’s a Minister. And he comes by every so often
John: Will it take place at the house?
Bonny: Yes.
John: Are you getting ready, now?
Bonny: I’m getting married at 6 o’clock in the evening. That way it’ll give people time to get here from all over. Buggies are starting to come, and wagons being pulled, neighbors. They’ll stay with us. We’ll have a party. My husband and I, when we’re married, we’re going to cross that river, and we’re going to go in, on the other side, and find our own way.
John: So you’ll leave the family?
Bonny: Yes.
John: Does he want to be a plantation owner, or have a business?
Bonny: He just wants to farm. Gonna have our own place. My older brother’s already gone up. We’ll follow him. He lives in a settlement called Nepeth, Napeth, something like that.
John: Is he doing well, up there?
Bonny: He says it’s good land. So we’re going to follow up.
John: Well, let’s go to the wedding time. You’re standing in front of the Minister. Who else is there?
Bonny: Mama and papa (side one of the tape ends), and some neighbors in from Shelby, and an awful lot of people, but there’s enough. The man who’s marrying us doesn’t talk very good. He’s...that’s OK.
John: Does he have an accent?
Bonny: No, it’s kinda hard to understand him.
John: But he’s speaking English?
Bonny: Yes.
John: Did he tell you his name?
Bonny: Yes. His last name is Matthews.
John: Reverend...?
Bonny: Matthews.
John: And this special day is...what’s the date today?
Bonny: The date?
John: You’re going to have to help your husband remember this special day.
Bonny: Why, just get married, have babies?
John: But you’ll want to remember your anniversary and do something special to remember it. This has got to be 1784, is that right?
Bonny: I reckon.
John: But what month is this?
Bonny: September 22nd. We’re gonna leave. We’ve gotta leave while the weather is still good.
John: Do you have a buggy that you’re going to take?
Bonny: No, we’ll take a wagon, with oxen.
John: Are there gifts that people have given you to get started with?
Bonny: Mama gave me some furniture. But people don’t have to give gifts.
John: It’s nice to start with something when you first get married, though.
Bonny: Mama takes care of me. We have bedding, and James is very good with his hands.
John: Do you have one of the goose feather mattresses?
Bonny: Yes. Mama made sure I had that. We’re gonna go, we’re leavin’ tomorrow.
John: Let’s now go forward, forward to the very day that you begin to pass from this life. You’ve gone through your entire life and you’re ready to pass on. Before you do, however, tell me what’s been the most significant thing that’s happened in your life. Do you feel it’s been a full life?
Bonny: It’s been a good life, it’s been a hard life. I’m an old lady.
John: How old are you?
Bonny: I’m 96.
John: How many children did you have?
Bonny: I had twelve. And they were all born in Indiana.
John: What part of Indiana?
Bonny: Well, we lived in Evans for a while. Actually, we kinda lived near Frankford, Indiana. Lots of rolling hills, green, green, tall trees, maple, oak, chestnut.
John: Are all twelve of your kids still alive?
Bonny: Alive and married.
John: Grand kids?
Bonny: I have great grandchildren. My papa and mama died a long time ago, all the children left.
John: What about your husband?
Bonny: My husband died forty years ago.
John: How did he die?
Bonny: He just died. He was home in bed.
John: Died in his sleep?
Bonny: No, he started, had a cold, sick, coughin’, he died, good man, good man.
John: Did any of your 12 children move away to another place?
Bonny: No, they’re all nearby. Have Bean Blossom, Cope, live, they’re all nearby.
John: Any of them there with you now?
Bonny: My oldest son’s here, he lives with me, or I live with him.
John: What’s his name?
Bonny: Charles.
John: Do you realize that you’re ready to pass on?
Bonny: I’m ready, I wanna die. I’m too old, I can’t do nothin’ any more. My eye sights goin’.
John: Anything that indicates that today’s the day?
Bonny: I just pray that God will open the heavens and take me. I’m so tired.
John: I want you to allow whatever happens to happen and just describe to me what takes place.
Bonny: ...I’m in my bed, I’m so tired. My son’s fallen asleep in the chair next to me. I wanna reach out and touch his sweet face. I’m so old and tired. He’s been a good son. My children, all been good. My husbands here!
John: Did you expect that?
Bonny: No, because he’s so young.
John: What is he doing?
Bonny: He’s standing at the foot of my bed. My mama, my mama, I can see my mama! And papa. My brother, Robert, and James. They all look so young. My husband…(expression changes). I see my body, it’s old and wrinkled. [At that point it was as though I could see my self looking down at a very old little lady in her bed. I could also see the room below me. It was nothing fancy just real comfortable. A bedroom that had a rough country look and feel to it.]
John: And as you see your body, what do you feel? What do you look like, now?
Bonny: I’m young, I feel free.
John: What of your son who’s still there?
Bonny: He’s asleep.
John: So he won’t know that you’re gone?
Bonny: My parents have gone over and my mother’s just run her hand lightly over his head.
John: Does he wake up?
Bonny: No, but he’s stirred, like he felt it ... I’m floating.
John: Are they floating?
Bonny: They’re with me.
John: Where do they take you?
Bonny: It’s dark...getting lighter, though. Lighter.
John: Do you feel like you’re traveling somewhere?
Bonny: Yes, but I’m not walking, or have the sensation of walking. There’s a light in the forest beyond. There are people. My grandfather, I see him smiling. My uncle, William, my Aunt Hanna.
[Bonny writes: When John sends me on a Travel, it doesn’t matter what period of time, I hear and respond to his questions. But there are times when I find myself so involved in what I’m experiencing that his questions become almost a nuisance to answer. This Travel was one of those when answering his questions stopped me from totally living the experience.
I found myself as a little girl about eight or nine years old in an encampment with several other families. I saw a man whom I somehow knew was my father. He was very tall with dark hair and blue eyes. The woman I knew to be my mother was of slight build with light hair that hung down her back. At one point I remember bending down and noticed that my own hair was also dark like my father’s. I saw the thick woods surrounding us. We were camped by a stream. I saw the campfire on which was cooking our dinner.
If what I experienced could be put into a novel, it would be one that would reflect upon the men, women, and even the children that showed a strength of character and courage that made our country strong.
As I watched this child and her family during their journey in the wilderness, I watched in amazement as they stopped beside a large body of water for several days or perhaps weeks, while her father along with the other men build three long boats. I observed the boats traveling downstream and pulling in towards shore every dusk. The boat which carried Cassandra and her family had some sort of hut on it for shelter and it was my impression that it was their wagon turned upside down with a door cut into it. I did see a wheel, but only one was visual to me.]
[The next long boat held the animals; I saw three oxen in some sort of logs that had been stacked to make a corral for them. There were also lots of barrels lining the inside of this boat.]
[The third boat had what appeared to be two large tents on it, perhaps for the other families and once again there seemed to be barrels stacked around this boat as well.]
[The drawings are what I saw of the boats, and I must admit I am somewhat embarrassed, as I am used to painting in oils and do not consider myself a sketch artist. Therefore, the dimensions are somewhat off as the boats were very long. The boat for the animals held three oxen, which is something I would not even attempt to draw for fear of putting the readers in the mood of hysterical laughter. Each boat had and needed at least three men to maneuver it through the water.]