“My son was a godly kid and he’s in paradise. That’s my comfort. I don’t know what I would do without knowing that. He’s all around. I see him when I look up at the hills. He had a good life here. I was blessed to have him, even though it was for a short time.”
“We lived on Staten Island. I worked on Wall Street and then stopped working to raise the kids. My husband always wanted to move out of the city, so in 2000 we moved here to this 100-acre farm near Confluence to start a new life. We did a tremendous amount of work. My husband could do anything. He’d always say: ‘Don’t worry about it.’ He and our son encompassed the entire 100-acres in fencing. We raised cattle and sheep. All the animals, I’m telling you, they just kept multiplying. My son loved being on the farm, riding the ATV, hunting and fishing. He used to catch fish down at the river with his friends and they’d stock the ponds on our property. We had no intention of starting a bed and breakfast. As the Great Allegheny Passage kept getting bigger we heard there was a need for more places to stay. So we started Hanna House in 2003.
“My son always wanted to be in the U.S. Army. He said when he graduated he wanted to join the infantry. He said: ‘Don’t lose the farm. I’m coming back.’ He was killed in Mosul by a sniper on August 4, 2005, the day after his 19th birthday.
“I remember it was a really hot day in August. My husband and daughter were swimming down at the river. I was on the front porch on the phone talking to my sister. I said: ‘Oh my God, Joanie, there’s a solder that just drove by real slow with a map.’ She told me not to hang up. He went past and I said: ‘Oh thank God, he didn’t stop.’ Then he suddenly turned around. He got out of the car, walked up to the porch and asked: ‘Where’s your husband?’ The two guests that were here ran down to the river to get him.
“It was terrible. The town was so supportive. People came out of the woodwork. We had only been here five years. They raised money for a memorial dedicated to my son down the road at the VFW, right beside the ones for WWI and WWII. Years later a motorcycle group dedicated the road out in front to my son. Just so he would be remembered.
“I have a gold star at the front door. Military people I don’t know call and show up all the time. Some are combat veterans who were in Vietnam, or they were in Iraq. It’s healing. There’s a family that comes. Some of them are Navy. They return every single solitary year because of my son.
“I remember two men came. One was a photographer. He went to Arlington, where my son is buried, and took gorgeous photos at Easter at his grave and sent them to me.
“Now it’s just me. My husband died of cancer. My daughter married a military man and moved out of state.
“I love the farm. It’s beautiful and homey and simple. That’s my joy. I love working outside. It keeps me busy. I love clearing brush. I love mowing. I grow food in the garden. I’m trying to grow fruit trees. A very close friend of my son and our family, a combat Vietnam Veteran, came to my aid to keep this place going. He’s been a true blessing to all of us and I couldn’t have done it without him.
“My son was a godly kid and he’s in paradise. That’s my comfort. I don’t know what I would do without knowing that. He’s all around. I see him when I look up at the hills. He had a good life here. I was blessed to have him, even though it was for a short time.”
This content was created by Anita Harnish for the Great Allegheny Passage Conservancy and funded in part by a grant from the Community Conservation Partnerships Program Environmental Stewardship Fund, under the administration of the Pennsylvania Department of Conservation and Natural Resources, Bureau of Recreation and Conservation administered through the Pennsylvania Environmental Council’s Laurel Highlands Mini Grant Program, and in part by the Somerset County Tourism Grant Program.