Seneca Rocks is easily visible and accessible along West Virginia Route 28 near US Route 33 in the Monongahela National Forest located in the Eastern Panhandle of West Virginia. The rock is approximately 250 feet thick and 900 feet above stream level, composed of fine grains of sand that were laid down over 400 million years ago at the edge of the ancient Iapetus Ocean.
When I was graduated looking for work Dad said to me, "As soon as they find out your background no one will be interested in you". I didn't know what Dad meant. What background? What interest? Was he talking about me having a baby? His sister, my Aunt Edna, said my cousin Sarah and I shouldn't mention having babies on job interviews. I could see her point, but I didn't agree with her, and my experience was that most of the men who had interviewed me for jobs complimented my being responsible rather than being judgmental. My son and I moved to NYC when he was starting the first grade, and I worked for a brokerage firm on Wall Street when I was twenty-four years old in 1974. I typed reports on investments and strategies that my Director boss dictated. A Chinese chef came in to cook the Directors' lunch every day, but not ours. It smelled real good, and sometimes one of the Directors would announce there were left- overs if anyone would like to eat lunch there, but I never went into the dining area. I just typed all day, and that was about it. The professional consensus of the Directors was to invest in television pay per view in lieu of commercials. I was picturing TVs with a scanner for payment incorporated into the televisions or a slot-TV. Virtual airline training was a big bet, also, and metallurgical coal, a no-brainer. Who doesn't like clean coal? The Jewish employees were off all holidays including secular. There were four male directors and one female director in the firm. One of the men was French, and the lady was from Savannah. My director was from New York City, and he was Jewish.
Vada was my grandmother's name who died after picking a pail of blackberries back in 1931 when she was twenty-two years old. Those blackberries kept my two-year old mother alive until she was found two days later inside their cabin on Crites Mountain. My grandfather was killed in a coal mining accident, so I knew neither of them except through the words of Vada's brother, my great uncle who had Indian heritage and raised my mother. When I was a child my mother and dad and I sometimes traveled to Baltimore where I was born and where his sisters lived, via Route 33 that took us past the Seneca Rocks, a truly remarkable and awe-inspiring site. My story is about growing up in West Virginia with my paternal grandparents, uncles and aunts and cousins, of those who survived the great depression into the days of Camelot. My first vision of Jesus was when I was twelve, and then the second was when I was forty-five, and the reason why I'm telling this story and why I've chosen to use my grandmother's name as a pen name for this book. My mother was the only one who never questioned the validity of my visions. Her name was Mona, the most beautiful woman God ever created.