"God Willing, And the Creek Don't Rise"

compiled by Teresa Martin Klaiber
1 March 2011

As I sumped my Eastern Kentucky basement, on the last day of February, and watched Long Branch of Garner Creek hurdle through my property before heading down our road to Garner Creek, I received word of an emergency just a few miles away.

Thanks to the heroic efforts of our wonderful emergency services, a woman's life was saved after her car plunged and submerged in the cold February waters on Four-Mile and Trace. Barbara Groves car lost control negotiating the wet road. Many locals said prayers for her and today the news said she was released from the hospital. My heartfelt wishes for her speedy recovery. My sincere praise for the many trained volunteers that are dedicated in protecting us here in Boyd County.

While discussing this with my family we remembered another rescue turned recovery exactly fifty years ago, February. Long Branch, Garner Creek, Trace Creek and many other small tributaries dump into the East Fork as it heads toward the river.

On February 22, 1961 Mildred Burns Banks and her sister Mary Burns Webb were returning from a visit at Kings Daughters Hospital along Route #180, very near Boyd County High School. The car "failed to negotiate a curve... ricocheted off a tree down a 10 foot embankment, crashed into a bridge abutment and flipped over in the water." Due to the heavy rains of East Fork it was described as at least five feet higher than normal and murky.

Both sisters were laid to rest in the Jeremiah Burns Cemetery on Route #3.

The sisters were issues of Jeremiah Burns [18 April 1858 VA-24 Jun 1932] and wife Minnie V. Kinner [1869-1946]. Their grandmother was Elvira J. Hogan who married Harvey Kinner.

It never ceases to leave me in awe when the rains start in our neck of the woods. The creek glistens with a pretty musical lilt on most days. I love to walk along the edge looking for treasures and watching the multitude of life that exists along and in it. Then as the water washes down the cliffs it is only a matter of sometimes minutes before it becomes a raging, dangerous power of nature.

The creek has always played a role in the development of the area. The creek bed along Garner was the path and roadway when the area was first developed. The road still follows its twists and turns. You can not tame it. The Clyde Ross Farm moved the creek to make way for more profitable fields. So did the Klaibers but when the rain starts you can still see the water struggling to use the old creek path.

We have many personal creek stories. We tell people that are visiting that they might want to leave when the rain starts or stay longer than expected. Those that don't listen turn back and sit a spell. It goes down as fast as it comes up.

A dear friend reminded me yesterday about the saying "Turn around, don't drown." We tend to think our cars are strong. I attempted - just once -to follow another vehicle as the waters were coming up. The back wheels rose and I began to feel like I was floating - gunning it the tires grabbed and I was lucky.

We tend to think of April showers but February seems to be the start of our flood "season." One hundred and thirty years ago, 23 February 1881 the Independent wrote "The iron bridge at Hood's Fork has been washed out by the recent floods, and turned clear over."

On 22 February 1883 the Independent reported "high water, everything flooded at Catlettsburg." At Rockville, Lawrence County the news reported "The river rose here within 18 inches of the rise of 1862 and 4 inches higher than 1875."

Then on Valentines Day, 14 February 1884, the paper reported that the 1884 flood "beats the record. Nothing like it since Adam's Noah!" The paper does not talk about the outlaying areas just the towns along the Ohio and Big Sandy. It must have been just as hard on the tributaries.

Before my readers ask why would anyone live near areas prone to the ravages of nature - the answer is simple. It is God's country and it is all part of God's plan. We continue to try to harness it. I grumble about my wet basement. Then hero's save a life and the sun comes out and I once again hear the lilt of the gentle stream and know I am where I belong.

When Paths Meet. A Fathers Day Tribute

compiled by Teresa Martin Klaiber
2010 Updated Father's Day 2020

Elderly and frail, but sharp of mind, every time I came in the door for a visit with Julina Sexton Klaiber, nearly 100 years of age, she would tell me the same story. "I remember your father. He was just a kid...came out here to doctor the cattle. Why I knew he was just a youngster and couldn't know much. But he saved the cow [chuckle]. He had schoolin and done a real good job."

It was 1950 and thus began a relationship that would entwine both families lives and go on for generations. John Geer Martin was a graduate of the Veterinary School at Ohio State University and had been invited to Boyd County, Kentucky by Henry Riekert to set up a practice. John Henry Klaiber had an established dairy, one of the bigger operations in the county. This compiler was an infant and the Klaiber son, James David was 3 years old.

As a child I always tagged along with my father on his country call rounds. Even when small it was my job to carry his black medical bag and open the many gates that lead up the lanes throughout northeastern Kentucky. Nicknames were and are very popular in our neck of the woods. I was crowned mine by Claude Groves the first time I got on his bus in 7th grade. I was greeted with "Well if it ain't Little Doc." Jim would be dubbed "Brother James" when we attended high school together.

Many country calls were made up Long Branch Road. My father writes in his publication Never a Ho Hum Day about being kicked by a cow and keeping the boot on to continue his day before cutting it off that night and facing a broken foot. That accident happened in the Klaiber barn that stands on our property today. (This portion of the farm was sold since this was written and today, the barn still stands but is now owned by Dr. Pierzala.)

Packing the cattle records away, that were stored in the old milk house, certificates fluttered out that were signed by both my father John Geer Martin and John Henry Klaiber. Among my genealogical treasures I have a Rabies certificate with both names, as well. And that was the bond between our fathers.

John Henry Klaiber took great pride in his farm and was always alert to new technology. He was one of only a handful of farmers that was willing to accept veterinary medicine by letting go of home remedies and witchcraft treatments of animals that was prevalent in the early years of my father's practice. The health of his herd was testament, and a visual that helped Martin Veterinary Practice grow into one of the best in Kentucky at that time.

John Henry Klaiber was the youngest son. He played football at Boyd County High and when the war came he stayed home to care for the family farm. He loved this land and knew every blade of grass.

John Henry fulfilled his childhood dream. The family farm had been splintered by family inheritance. His vision was to make sure the farm stayed intact. Slowly he purchased back the rights from aunts and uncles and built a dairy herd that withstood the diseases seen in other areas. John Henry Klaiber also loved a good joke. He was known for a few tales that are dubbed golly whoopers followed by the Klaiber laugh.


John Geer Martin also had a dream. He always loved animals, especially a horse. He volunteered during World War II and flew cargo over the Hump. Even while in flight animals were on his mind as he saw the mules shipped over to help build the roads. He fulfilled his childhood dream to become a veterinarian when the war was over. His love of an aircraft would continue throughout his life. He became an Instrument instructor. I inherited his love of writing. He would write four books before his death that chronicle his dreams and life. With a gruff exterior and a heart of gold the man loved every small and large creature that God created.

Both men worked from before sunup until sundown and sometimes by the light of lanterns. Both men instilled their work ethics and the need for goals in their grandsons. Neither met their great grandchildren but would have adored them. As I write this I know these children and future children will have those values and  will grow and learn from the stories these two wonderful men left behind. A little golly whooper and Klaiber laugh won't hurt either.

John Henry Powell Sexton Klaiber 1911-1995
John Geer Martin 1924-1999
James David Klaiber married Teresa Lynn Martin April 1968