This was written by my Mother, Bernice "Shirley" Arvada Dillon Pierson, on the one-hundreth birthday of my Great-Grandmother, Amanda Ellen Dillon, February 15, 1964. She was born in Mattsville, West Virginia in 1864. (my mother always thought that's where she was born, but she was born in Monroe County, Virginia).

"A few days before Grandmother Dillon's One-hundreth Birthday, I thought perhaps you'd treasure her memory and rejoice with me in the great honor and distinction we all share, to have had her for our beloved Grandmother. To have loved her and known that our love was returned many times over. We are all better because of her. She lived and implanted goodness in us all.

She was born in the beautiful Allegheny Mountains of West Virginia, deep in the heart of the tall timber. She was small in height and size, five feet tall and no more than 90 pounds. She lived her ninety one years in the Mountains up Sand Lick Hollow. She never ventured beyond the radius of fifty miles, never looked out to the Sea, across the Plains or saw the clear blue waters of Minnesota's Lakes yet, her eyes beheld much. She looked upon her family her six sons and three daughters, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. She saw her garden, her flowers, her immediate surroundings, and found in her heart all she longed to see. She came into this world during the Civil War, lived when Lincoln was shot, read of the great 1906 San Francisco earthquake, she sent her sons to fight two World Wars. To each of us, she gave her all, her guidence, her patience and fortitude. She reaches out yet, to embrace us from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Around her shown a light of tenderness and faith that guides us still in times of trouble. Many times Grandmother's strength comes back to us. She made little things great occasions. She praised us when we were good, encouraged us in all things and steered us on the right course through life. She corrected our mistakes in kindness, and understood our weaknesses. She showed no anger or discouragement at anything or anyone. She never spoke but good of anyone and was a peacemaker in her family.

She used what she had and was glad to do her best. She was a saver, she pieced and sewed, by hand, a quilt top for me by using Grandpa's Bull Durham tobacco sacks and five pound sugar sacks. This involved ripping, boiling out print, boiling in colors and sewing together. She planted her vegetables, cooked on a wood stove, swept the floor with a broom she'd made from straw gathered from the fields. Scrubbed clothes on a scrub board. She milked cows, made cottage cheese, custard pies and always gave Thanks to God for all the pleasures she had. She could tell time of day by where the sun shown on the mountain side.

When I was but four years old in 1922, we lived in a little house above Grandma's and I used to run off and go see her. Even then, I knew Grandma had a place special in my heart. Always she listened with interest in all I had to say and always I had a good feeling that she fully understood all my dreams and aspirations. I never hear a bell ring but I think of her and the many times she'd let me ring it when her dinner was ready and she wanted her men folk to come in from the fields. That bell was her signal even when danger lurked.

I remember the fine canopied Horse Buggy with leather seats and oval windows, and riding home from Church and how the moon shone with the trees casting shadows across the dirt road, and her patient voice answering all my constant questions. I remember the many starched white lace petticoats she'd put on Bef.ore going to Church, the wooden bowl she made bread in.

She had all her children at home, made all their clothes and washed with soap she made herself. We were never allowed in her garden and her yard was full of pots and washtubs full of petunias. How she would caution us to be good when Grandpa came home from his Blacksmith Shop lest he be in a mood.

Never did we hear her gossip. She never showed anger toward anyone. Was never hastey in word or deed. She lived each day fully and thankfull for her many blessings. Grandma was a dreamer, in the sense she looked always to Bet.ter things and Bet.ter times. She accepted her role and was pleased to do her very best always--Never complained or shirked her duty.

Grandma told me once that a fortune teller told her she'd live out her life in such a setting and there would be a creek running by the side of the house. There is one and it's called Dillon Creek.

From her two story wooden house surrounded by a picket fence she could sit on her front porch, look down the valley surrounded by Mountains, and look out into the world. She accepted death and joyfully reached out her whole heart to each new life that came. To each one she gave a certain part of her that sustains us yet, and makes the fact that she lived in this life our symbol of goodness and mercy. Let's keep her in our Loving Remembrance."

The George W. Dillon Family
In front of their home by Dillon Creek
in Sand Lick, West Virginia

(left to right):
Wilmer F. Dillon
Ocus W. Dillon and Mary Jane Wiseman Atha (on porch),
Amanda Ellen Atha Dillon (in front of steps),
Ina Dillon Daniel, Henry Howard Dillon and Leta Mae Dillon (on steps),
George Wentworth Dillon holding baby, Garnett F. Dillon,
James L. Dillon, and Deanna's grandfather, Charles Ray Dillon (far right).

The picture was taken about 1908 and all the clothes they're all wearing
were made by my great-grandmother. In 1912 she gave birth to her last
child, George Doff Dillon. The baby being held by George is still alive in a
nursing home in Fairmont, West Virginia.