The Troutman family in North Carolina knows how to throw a reunion. This year they celebrated the 120th. As usual, Brent Warren and the members of the board did a superb job of making it special. Being from out of state, I was asked to give a response to the welcome. Brent told me just to tell what the reunion means to me. So I thought about it. What does this reunion mean to me? Two reasons came to mind: stability and continuity.
I’m in awe of families who have stayed in one place for generations. They have a wonderful sense of place, of belonging, of rootedness, of stability. That’s the Troutman family of North Carolina. Many of them have lived on Troutman Farm Road, or in the vicinity, ever since our progenitor, Jacob Troutman, whom we call The Pioneer, arrived there and built his cabin in about 1785.
Not so much, my branch of the family. We are the wanderers, those who strayed from the fold. My great-grandfather, Daniel Absolum, a grandson of Jacob’s, left North Carolina about 1868, and drove a herd of horses into Rich Valley, Smyth County, Virginia—or so the story goes. There a young lady caught his eye, and he ended up marrying her. When he took her home to meet his family, however, she did not acclimate. She wanted to go back to Virginia, so he took her. There in the valley of Virginia, they raised their ten children. My grandfather Clint Troutman was their ninth.
At age 22, Clint followed the family of the love of his life, Mary Ann Waggoner, when they moved to Missouri, and there he married her. Later they migrated to Wayne County, Nebraska, where they raised their five children. My father Verne Troutman was their fourth.
In 1936, when Verne was 22 years old, he and his brother Jim took a load of horses by train to Rich Valley, Smyth County, Virginia to sell. Jim went home, but Verne stayed. That summer, he and his uncle, James Henry Troutman traveled to the Troutman Reunion in North Carolina. It was the first time a descendant of Daniel’s had returned to the home place. Verne wrote home to his father in Nebraska what a great reception the Troutman family had given them, particularly, Tays Troutman, a second cousin.
Back in Virginia, Verne started a business and met the love of his life, Lois McIntyre. He married her in 1940. About two years later, they moved back to Nebraska where Verne started farming and they raised their four children. I am their third. In 1960, we moved to Florida, then two years later to Missouri, then back to Virginia in 1967.
Later when married, my husband and I moved numerous times over our 55 years together. We have lived in Michigan, Indiana, Virginia, back to Indiana, and now Pennsylvania. So I have sometimes wondered where I belong. I have a deep connection to Nebraska and to Virginia and to Indiana—and although I have never lived in North Carolina, I feel connected to this state, too, because of this reunion. My father brought us here as teens. Then I came later in 1972 with him and his two brothers and a sister. Then my husband and I brought our children once. Then in 2004, the 100th reunion, we rallied a group of about thirty of my Nebraska cousins to come. Myron and I have come a half dozen or so times since then. The more I come, the more I realize what a sense of stability is here, a sense of place, a sense of belonging that I don’t feel elsewhere.
The second reason this reunion means a lot to me is continuity. Since 1784 when my 3x great-grandfather, Jacob Troutman, moved to Iredell County from Rowan County, his descendants have lived in this place. The Troutman name is everywhere around here—on mailboxes, on businesses, on the fire station, even the town name. Not so where Daniel lived in Rich Valley, Virginia, nor where Clint lived in Wayne County, Nebraska. There’s no longer anyone named Troutman in either place—except on tombstones in cemeteries. This reunion grounds family members in family history, continuing family traditions and reminding us of our faith. We meet to remember those who have passed away in the previous year, we sing hymns and pray, a pastor gives a short speech, and when we meet in the schoolhouse, we sing a family clan song, hymns and patriotic songs, and we pray and celebrate our heritage under God.
As I have researched my family history, I have looked for evidence of faith in previous generations, which is sometimes difficult to find. Most ancestors didn’t leave a testimony of their faith, except maybe in a will that commits their souls to God. Sometimes a baptismal record will at least show that they belonged to a church. Maybe one was a preacher. But when I come here, I see the evidence of the faith passed down through the generations.
The Holy Scriptures remind us to tell the stories from one generation to the next, so that the heritage of faith will not be forgotten. Among many, here are three:
“Tell your children of it, and let your children tell their children, and their children another generation” (Joel 1:3).
“Let this be recorded for a generation to come, so that a people yet unborn may praise the Lord” (Psalms 102:18).
“One generation shall laud your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts” (Psalms 145:4).
So what does this Troutman reunion mean to me? For all of us it provides stability, a sense of place and a sense of belonging to something greater than ourselves; it gives continuity, that there is hope for future generations as we tell our stories of family and of faith in God. May the tradition continue for years to come.
 |
Descendants of Daniel A. Troutman at the reunion, 12 Oct. 2024.
|
One more item of importance to maintain stability and continuity is preservation, which I must add. Back in the day (about 1972) when I went to the reunion with my dad and his siblings, we trekked through the woods and fields to the location of Jacob Troutman's cabin. It was nearly covered by weeds and undergrowth, but we could still peer inside, walk around it and see the old stone chimney, the sloping porch roof and such. I took pictures. At the 2004 reunion, we trekked through the woods again, only to see the porch roof broken down and the house falling to the ground. Today one of the family members, Sam Troutman, has taken on the task of rebuilding the old house on the original stone foundation and including the old chimney. Sam is preserving the old house so that this family history continues. Thank you, Sam!
 |
My dad (r) and his siblings with Tays T. (suit) and Blanche (white hair), 1972.
|
 |
Front of Jacob's cabin, 1972
|
 |
Back of Jacob's cabin, 1972
|
 |
The front of rebuilt cabin today, a work in progress
|
 |
Stone chimney, inside cabin 2024
|
 |
The stone foundation 2024
|
 |
Back of rebuilt cabin and the builder, Sam T. (blue shirt)
|
