The early McCunes built a cabin on Crooked
Run about 1850, replacing earlier structures
The McCune "boys," Norville (L) and Bruce (R)
have left a mighty presence, both passing at age 89
Log cabin built about 160 years ago is now being restored,
Norv's old cat on the front walk still calls it home
By Bob Weaver 2009
Returning yesterday to the McCune homestead on Crooked Run, the first visit since both Norv and Bruce died, there was a mighty presence of "the boys," their family members and their historic relatives, among the first comers to Calhoun.
Not unlike what children say about their deceased parents, "If only we could talk with them one more time."
Bruce passed in 2006 and Norv died in 2008, both at 89.
Nephew Ken McCune, repeated the oft-said statement about the McCunes, "There will never be others like them."
Ken McCune and wife Janet plan to move to restored house
Ken is diligently restoring the old homestead, a cabin likely built in 1848, recently removing the outer covering to reveal well-preserved logs.
He and his wife Janet intend to move to the restored homestead from their home a short distance up Crooked Run.
The boys would surely be pleased, particularly when the house is done and a number of chairs rest on the front porch for neighbors and friends to gather one more time, recalling times past, but more than likely, recalling them.
"They were really good men, among the best," said nephew Ken.
"They had a kind streak higher than the mountain behind their house, and they knew how to work and make a life on this land," he said.
While holding close to the earth as farmers, perhaps their greatest mark was just being beside their county road, being a friend to man.
Ken McCune displays cross-section of original log that still
has resin smell. Ken says the restoration is a labor of love
The House by the Side of the Road ~ By Sam Walter Foss
There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the peace of their self-content.
There are souls, like stars that swell apart,
In a fellowless firmament.
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran.
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by -
Men who are good and men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor tears -
Both parts of an infinite plan.
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by -
They are good, they are bad, they are weak,
They are strong, wise, foolish - so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
| 
