Kin & Coal

15/05/2026

A store ain’t just a store sometimes.

This one came from thinking about Street’s Store in Masontown, WV and my Grandpa — and how one little place can bring back a whole piece of childhood.

So many country stores that once held our towns together are gone now. They were the places where folks bought what they needed, heard the news, caught up with neighbors, and figured out who belonged to who.

But Street’s Store is still there.

Since 1898, it has stood in Masontown as more than a place to buy things. It’s one of those rare old local places that still carries the weight of memory — the kind of place where a quick stop could turn into a story.

Here’s “When Pap Stopped at Street’s” — a fun, toe-tapping Kin & Coal memory from Masontown, West Virginia.

14/05/2026

A new chapter for Kin & Coal.

What started as a way to share family history has grown into something bigger and more meaningful: giving my little slice of Appalachia — Preston County, West Virginia — a voice.

Kin & Coal will still be rooted in genealogy, old records, forgotten photos, and the people who deserve to be remembered. But the mission is expanding.

Through stories, songs, records, photographs, and community memory, I’ll be sharing more of Preston County’s history — the lost and forgotten places, coal roads, old schools, churches, farms, local legends, prominent figures, and even a few sketchy ones.

There will also be songs about how our people lived — work, home, faith, food, hardship, humor, grief, grit, and the everyday life that shaped Preston County. This is a story that needs telling.

My hope is simple: to help keep these stories alive, and maybe even help a younger generation stop, listen, and wonder where they come from.

Kin & Coal is still rooted in family.

Now it’s fueled by history.

So if you like good front porch stories, good music, old records, forgotten photos, and Preston County history…

I hope you’ll hang around.

We’ve got stories to tell.

12/05/2026

Sit a spell.

That phrase keeps coming back to me as I think about Kin & Coal.

It feels like an invitation — to slow down, pull up a chair, and listen to the names and stories waiting in old records, photographs, and family memories.

The old stories are not gone.
They are waiting in the records.

So sit a spell.
We’re just getting started.

11/05/2026

I’ve had a few people ask how I’m making these family history songs, so I wanted to share a little behind the scenes.

Yes, I’m using AI — but the heart of it is not artificial.

The stories come from records, family memories, old photographs, military files, census pages, cemetery stones, courthouse records, newspaper clippings, and the little details people are kind enough to share with me. The AI does not hand me a family story out of thin air. I give it the history, the names, the places, the facts, the mood, and the meaning — and then I work with it to shape lyrics, music style, and sometimes the visuals.

For me, this is another way to tell the stories.

Genealogy can live in binders, charts, and documents — and I love all of that. But sometimes a song reaches people in a different way. It can make someone stop scrolling. It can make a grandchild ask, “Who was that?” It can bring a name off a headstone and give it breath again for a few minutes.

If a song makes someone stop, listen, remember, ask a question, or say, “That was my family too,” then it has done something good.

The facts still matter. The records still matter. The human hand still matters.

AI may help build the song, but the story comes from us — from our families, our counties, our mountains, our old roads, and the people whose names deserve to be spoken again.

What old family story do you wish someone had turned into a song?

09/05/2026

09/05/2026

With Mother’s Day tomorrow, this felt like the right one to share.

This song was inspired by memories my aunties sent me about their mom and the old way of living in Preston County, West Virginia — canning tomatoes by the driveway, keeping a fire in the cookstove all year long, storing food in the root cellar, butchering, spring houses, outhouses, blackberry picking, and the kind of work that never really made it into the records.

And yes… there’s even a little comic relief from Pap’s home brew popping in the cellar like gunshots. Best part of the song, in my opinion! 😂

“Momma’s Workin’ Hands” is for the mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and women before us who kept families fed, homes running, shelves full, and stories alive.

Nothing went to waste — not the food, not the work, and not the memories. ❤️

What do you remember your mother or grandmother putting up for the winter?

Full song is on YouTube as well: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2ob44VmCuQ

09/05/2026

When a genealogist with Appalachian ancestors creates a country-bluegrass song… this is what you get.

This song came out of the same place my genealogy does — records, memories, old places, and the pull of wanting to know who came before us.

Created with the help of AI, but rooted in real family history, real mountain ground, and the kind of stories that keep tugging at you long after the record closes.

09/05/2026

I’ve been working in a song. And it’s almost ready! Just finishing up the video portion.

The Mountain Gives, The Mountain Takes

A song about Appalachian roots, coal roads, family, and the hard truth that the same mountains that gave our people a home could also take so much from them.

This one’s for the families who know exactly what that means. Stay tuned!

08/05/2026

I’m honestly blown away.

“Two Sons from Preston County” has reached over 100,000 views — and it’s still climbing.

I created this song to honor my grand uncles Herbert Wayne Cale and Clarence Ray Cale: two brothers from Preston County, WV, who both gave their lives in World War II. One died in France. One died after Iwo Jima.

But the response has shown me this story reaches far beyond our family.

So many people have commented with memories of their own uncles, brothers, fathers, cousins, and neighbors — men whose pictures stayed on the wall, whose names were spoken with love, and whose absence shaped families for generations.

This song was created with the help of AI tools, but the history behind it is real. The records are real. The photographs are real. The sacrifice was real.

Thank you for listening, sharing, and helping carry these names forward.

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