tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23496736016195837732024-03-04T21:50:43.480-08:00Climbing Our Family Trees"I don't know who my grandfather was, I am much more concerned to know what his grandson will be."
--Abraham LincolnBill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-8425930895758927312012-10-27T13:53:00.002-07:002012-10-27T14:08:48.486-07:00Dee Etta Harrold<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Dee Etta Harrold<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Great Grandmother </span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Birth 31 Aug 1875 in Nelsonville, Athens,
Ohio, USA</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Death 11 Mar 1948 in Nelsonville, Athens,
Ohio, USA</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandma Dee Memories by <u>Ruth Morris Blimes</u></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She moved to <u>510 High St</u> in Nelsonville with
her family when she was two years old and lived there most of her life until
she married Al.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She also died in the
house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dee was the spoiled one in the
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She married early to William Allen
(Al) Goodspeed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he was a mining
engineer she never had to do her own work, but hired it done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She lost two babies, <u>Ruth and John</u>
when they were very young.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Arthur died
of blood poisoning when he was almost eight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mom always said that Al never got over losing these young children,
especially Arthur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were apparently
very close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a letter written to
Almyra by Arthur written on a typewriter with the help of his father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also have a letter written by Al to Dee
when she was very sick and he was working away at the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He told her he would die if anything happened
to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Alas, when he was working in
Terre Haute, Ind. he ran off with another man's wife, so something must have happened
to dampen his ardor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The husband caught
them and had them thrown in jail. Dee went to see him and he promised he would
always take care of her and the children if she would just get him out of jail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't know how much later it was, but he
disappeared and she never heard from him again until about thirty years later
when he tried to cut off her army pension by divorcing her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This <u>tracked him to the Denver area</u>
and she went out there on the train and put a stop to that. Whether she saw him
then or not, I don't know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she
always referred to him as that "devil Al" and tried to pay me a
quarter a week if I would ditch Bill when we were dating since both he and Al
were born in November. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She lived in the other side of the house on High Street
and became a hermit in the winter time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She had a cat and once in a while we would hear it screeching and
howling on the other side of the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I thought she was mean to it because she had a temper (which she did),
but we found out that Uncle Jim and Windy Davis were bringing her a bottle of
booze, and when she had too many hot toddies, she would take it out on the poor
cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't pretend to judge her, but
many people have a lot of adversities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She just didn't handle hers too well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Clarence Scott said the devil himself couldn't live with Dee Goodspeed,
and I am inclined to agree with him.! Although she was a hermit from the first
cold day of fall, she came out with the spring flowers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was a walker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember that she used to take her basket
of Watkins products (like lemon flavoring, vanilla, & misc. small articles
to sell) and walk all over town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblASgCQwYwtihX0B_7_4Ii7B4z_uIfmyea8vl_knrgoYkvQ5uDgFDCEsH4f8O_ftcfOSucJV3JDEC87PNfVsQiaucCANnWfh2lleOLBibDcOy9Ly3xBHj7HzL9I_wRVuGWwGhxjlNjp-_/s1600/Dee+Harrold+Goodspeed+with+Marquise.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblASgCQwYwtihX0B_7_4Ii7B4z_uIfmyea8vl_knrgoYkvQ5uDgFDCEsH4f8O_ftcfOSucJV3JDEC87PNfVsQiaucCANnWfh2lleOLBibDcOy9Ly3xBHj7HzL9I_wRVuGWwGhxjlNjp-_/s200/Dee+Harrold+Goodspeed+with+Marquise.PNG" width="152" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
knew everyone in town since she had lived there all her life.! Her friends said
she could give the most beautiful prayers you ever heard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know she attended the Christian Church when
she was younger, but I don't remember her going as I was growing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was said that she attended every church in
town and I believe it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She took me down
the hill from our house to a revival meeting when I growing up and it was a
memorable experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Apostolic
Church was a little wooden building.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
had a long zinc tub in the front corner of the building for baptisms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After some preaching, a goodly number of
people jumped up and began to speak in tongues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As they progressed they rolled on the floor and screamed while the rest
of the congregation sang songs. The whole building shook and I was terrified
the floor would buckle with us in there, so she took me home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On hot summer nights as I got older we kids
would go down there and watch in the windows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I feel ashamed of it now, because they were mostly poor people who were
trying to find comfort and peace in their religion. She had some friends named
Scott who lived up near the Catholic Church that she visited regularly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She used to attend séances at their house. I
don't know whether she was trying to communicate with her dead son, Edwin, or
whether she was trying to get in touch with Al.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe a bit of both.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their son,
Sheldon Scott, was the best friend of Edwin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They grew up together and shared many hair raising adventures. </span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She was a
staunch Republican.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She electioneered
for a U.S. Congressman named Thomas Jenkins. He used to come and sit on our
front porch swing and talk to her and one time, as I remember, he gave each of
us a quarter. When our family took their first trip to Washington, we had our
pictures taken with him on the Capitol steps. She used to have us come over before
Christmas and go through the Sears catalog and tell her what we wanted from her
for Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I recall we never
received anything from her, but it was exciting to shop in the expectation of
getting something that year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the
depression, no one got much for Christmas because no one had much money. She
and Mom never got along while I was growing up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She never came over to our side of the house, and Mom never went over to
her side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't know what
happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I was married to Bill,
Mom worked at the Library and she told me never to let Grandma Dee in while she
wasn't there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day Grandma Dee came
over and wanted in and I told her I couldn't let her in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She went back to her house and got a broom
and beat on the door and shouted to me to let her in. She obviously had been
drinking and her face was red.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It scared
me and I called Bill at work and he came home and made her go away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1gUmq73UD_4QFVZDg5iTMS9sfodU2vH_VhKSerX8XHgbNqfQX9atE-hYcy66Gk-kXP7wjlKKIDyRTZ4YxElX-73WOaBYdQE8g4i4UiFMWUcK5ugFnz9OJKUrjveAqAW5PVZUkkqKH0MS/s1600/Grandma+Dee+in+Hat.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK1gUmq73UD_4QFVZDg5iTMS9sfodU2vH_VhKSerX8XHgbNqfQX9atE-hYcy66Gk-kXP7wjlKKIDyRTZ4YxElX-73WOaBYdQE8g4i4UiFMWUcK5ugFnz9OJKUrjveAqAW5PVZUkkqKH0MS/s1600/Grandma+Dee+in+Hat.PNG" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So you see a lot of my memories of her are
not too charitable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But who knows, if I
had lived her life, I might have kicked my cat too. She taught school up above
Nelsonville.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walked every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom remembers that she used to substitute for
her when Grandma Dee was sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
really didn't have an easy life. I think one reason she and Mom were estranged
was that Dee thought that the house at 510 High St. was her house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had been her home all her life, and now
she was relegated to three rooms. After Henry died, Almyra moved up to her
daughter, Hyla's, house on Poplar St.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When Almyra died she willed her house on High Street to Aunt Hyla.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mom and Dad later bought the house from Aunt
Hyla for the princely sum of $1200 at about $12 dollars a month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think they finally paid it off when Dad got
his WWI pension. These are some of my remembrances of my Grandma Dee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were many times when she was very good
to me, and there were times she wasn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>However, the good times outweigh the bad ones; I probably just don't
remember them as well.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span id="goog_904212030"></span><span id="goog_904212031"></span></span></div>
Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-15490720100794235162012-07-06T17:49:00.000-07:002012-07-06T17:51:59.836-07:00Tracing Indentured Servant Ancestors<br />
<br />
Indentured servitude was the historical practice of contracting to work for a fixed period of time. Typically it is for a period of three to seven years, in exchange for transportation, food, clothing, lodging and other necessities during the term of indenture. An indenture was a legal contract enforced by the courts. Indentures could not marry without the permission of their owner, were subject to physical punishment, and saw their obligation to labor enforced by the courts. To ensure uninterrupted work by the female servants, the law lengthened the term of their indenture if they became pregnant. But unlike slaves, servants could look forward to a release from bondage. At the end of their term they received a payment known as "freedom dues" and become free members of society. <br />
<br />
The practice was popular in England and throughout Europe. It provided an efficient method of populating the North American colonies with a reliable labor force. Ports of entry such as Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Charleston, Savannah, and New Orleans thrived as merchants, wealthy businessmen, ship captains’, etc. engaged in various types of trade and commerce while benefitting from the continual flow of indentured servitude contacts processed through the local courts within, or in close proximity, to these jurisdictions. <br />
<br />
Emigrants who were unable to pay costs associated with passage would sell themselves into service for a specific period of time in return for the cost of passage and provisions. Ship captains’ would transport the indentured servants to the colonies, and sell their legal papers to someone who needed workers. When the ship arrived, the captain would often advertise in a newspaper that indentured servants were for sale. <br />
<br />
This process may have involved signing a contract with an emigrant agent or auctioning themselves off to the highest bidder upon arrival. The latter group was often referred to as “redemptioners”. Emigrant agents sometimes worked for the shipping company, ship captain, wealthy businessmen, or local merchants. Upon arrival at the port of entry, the contracts were processed in local courts and sold to the highest bidders. <br />
<br />
In the North American colonies, merchants, land owners, and businesses often found it problematic to hire free workers, primarily because cash was in short supply. The most economically sensible solution was to pay the passage of a young worker from places like England and Europe, who would work for several years to pay off the travel costs debt. During that indenture period the servants were not paid wages, but they were provided food, room, clothing, and training. Most white immigrants arriving in the American colonies did so as indentured servants.<br />
<br />
Indentured servants were a separate category from bound apprentices. The latter were children, usually orphans or from an impoverished family who could not care for them. They were under the control of courts and were bound out to work as an apprentice until a certain age. Many immediately set out to begin their own farms, while others used their newly acquired skills to pursue a trade. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Bryan L. Mulcahy<br />
<br />
Reference Librarian<br />
<br />
Fort Myers-Lee County Library<br />
<br />Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-65982600204739444152012-04-13T13:20:00.001-07:002012-04-13T13:25:38.675-07:00Grandma's StoriesMany years ago when I was small when my grandmother wanted to get me to sit still she would tell me stories or recite poetry. I would then sit still while she washed me up for supper or tended to my cuts and bruises. One that I remember well is an old tale told by Uncle Remus fictional narrator of a collection of African American folktales by adapted and compiled by Joel Chandler Harris. It is called, Brer Rabbit and the Tar Baby. It went something like this:<br />
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Well now, that rascal Brer Fox hated Brer Rabbit on account of he was always cutting capers and bossing everyone around. So Brer Fox decided to capture and kill Brer Rabbit if it was the last thing he ever did! He thought and he thought until he came up with a plan. He would make a tar baby! Brer Fox went and got some tar and he mixed it with some turpentine and he sculpted it into the figure of a cute little baby. Then he stuck a hat on the Tar Baby and sat her in the middle of the road. <br />
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Brer Fox hid himself in the bushes near the road and he waited and waited for Brer Rabbit to come along. At long last, he heard someone whistling and chuckling to himself, and he knew that Brer Rabbit was coming up over the hill. As he reached the top, Brer Rabbit spotted the cute little Tar Baby. Brer Rabbit was surprised. He stopped and stared at this strange creature. He had never seen anything like it before! <br />
<br />
"Good Morning," said Brer Rabbit, doffing his hat. "Nice weather we're having." <br />
<br />
The Tar Baby said nothing. Brer Fox laid low and grinned an evil grin. <br />
<br />
Brer Rabbit tried again. "And how are you feeling this fine day?" <br />
<br />
The Tar Baby, she said nothing. Brer Fox grinned an evil grin and lay low in the bushes. <br />
<br />
Brer Rabbit frowned. This strange creature was not very polite. It was beginning to make him mad. <br />
<br />
"Ahem!" said Brer Rabbit loudly, wondering if the Tar Baby were deaf. "I said 'HOW ARE YOU THIS MORNING?" <br />
<br />
The Tar Baby said nothing. Brer Fox curled up into a ball to hide his laugher. His plan was working perfectly! <br />
<br />
"Are you deaf or just rude?" demanded Brer Rabbit, losing his temper. "I can't stand folks that are stuck up! You take off that hat and say 'Howdy-do' or I'm going to give you such a lickin'!" <br />
<br />
The Tar Baby just sat in the middle of the road looking as cute as a button and saying nothing at all. Brer Fox rolled over and over under the bushes, fit to bust because he didn't dare laugh out loud. <br />
<br />
"I'll learn ya!" Brer Rabbit yelled. He took a swing at the cute little Tar Baby and his paw got stuck in the tar. <br />
<br />
"Lemme go or I'll hit you again," shouted Brer Rabbit. The Tar Baby, she said nothing. <br />
<br />
"Fine! Be that way," said Brer Rabbit, swinging at the Tar Baby with his free paw. Now both his paws were stuck in the tar, and Brer Fox danced with glee behind the bushes. <br />
<br />
"I'm gonna kick the stuffin' out of you," Brer Rabbit said and pounced on the Tar Baby with both feet. They sank deep into the Tar Baby. Brer Rabbit was so furious he head-butted the cute little creature until he was completely covered with tar and unable to move. <br />
<br />
Brer Fox leapt out of the bushes and strolled over to Brer Rabbit. "Well, well, what have we here?" he asked, grinning an evil grin. <br />
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Brer Rabbit gulped. He was stuck fast. He did some fast thinking while Brer Fox rolled about on the road, laughing himself sick over Brer Rabbit's dilemma. <br />
<br />
"I've got you this time, Brer Rabbit," said Brer Fox, jumping up and shaking off the dust. "You've sassed me for the very last time. Now I wonder what I should do with you?" <br />
<br />
Brer Rabbit's eyes got very large. "Oh please Brer Fox, whatever you do, please don't throw me into the briar patch." <br />
<br />
"Maybe I should roast you over a fire and eat you," mused Brer Fox. "No, that's too much trouble. Maybe I'll hang you instead." <br />
<br />
"Roast me! Hang me! Do whatever you please," said Brer Rabbit. "Only please, Brer Fox, please don't throw me into the briar patch." <br />
<br />
"If I'm going to hang you, I'll need some string," said Brer Fox. "And I don't have any string handy. But the stream's not far away, so maybe I'll drown you instead." <br />
<br />
"Drown me! Roast me! Hang me! Do whatever you please," said Brer Rabbit. "Only please, Brer Fox, please don't throw me into the briar patch." <br />
<br />
"The briar patch, eh?" said Brer Fox. "What a wonderful idea! You'll be torn into little pieces!" <br />
<br />
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Grabbing up the tar-covered rabbit, Brer Fox swung him around and around and then flung him head over heels into the briar patch. Brer Rabbit let out such a scream as he fell that all of Brer Fox's fur stood straight up. Brer Rabbit fell into the briar bushes with a crash and a mighty thump. Then there was silence. <br />
<br />
Brer Fox cocked one ear toward the briar patch, listening for whimpers of pain. But he heard nothing. Brer Fox cocked the other ear toward the briar patch, listening for Brer Rabbit's death rattle. He heard nothing. <br />
<br />
Then Brer Fox heard someone calling his name. He turned around and looked up the hill. Brer Rabbit was sitting on a log combing the tar out of his fur with a wood chip and looking smug. <br />
<br />
"I was bred and born in the briar patch, Brer Fox," he called. "Born and bred in the briar patch." <br />
<br />
And Brer Rabbit skipped away as merry as a cricket while Brer Fox ground his teeth in rage and went home. <br />
<br />
Grandma also used to recite poetry she had learned in her youth and one of my favorites was a poem by James Whitcomb Riley entitled, “The Raggedy Man”.<br />
<br />
O the Raggedy Man! He works fer Pa; <br />
<br />
An' he's the goodest man ever you saw! <br />
<br />
He comes to our house every day, <br />
<br />
An' waters the horses, an' feeds 'em hay; <br />
<br />
An' he opens the shed—an' we all ist laugh <br />
<br />
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When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf; <br />
<br />
An' nen—ef our hired girl says he can— <br />
<br />
He milks the cow fer 'Lizabuth Ann.— <br />
<br />
Ain't he a' awful good Raggedy Man? <br />
<br />
Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
W'y, The Raggedy Man—he's ist so good, <br />
<br />
He splits the kindlin' an' chops the wood; <br />
<br />
An' nen he spades in our garden, too, <br />
<br />
An' does most things 'at boys can't do.— <br />
<br />
He clumbed clean up in our big tree <br />
<br />
An' shooked a' apple down fer me— <br />
<br />
An' 'nother 'n', too, fer 'Lizabuth Ann— <br />
<br />
An' 'nother 'n', too, fer The Raggedy Man.— <br />
<br />
Ain't he a' awful kind Raggedy Man? <br />
<br />
Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
An' The Raggedy Man one time say he <br />
<br />
Pick' roast' rambos from a' orchurd-tree, <br />
<br />
An' et 'em—all ist roast' an' hot!— <br />
<br />
An' it's so, too!—'cause a corn-crib got <br />
<br />
Afire one time an' all burn' down <br />
<br />
On "The Smoot Farm," 'bout four mile from town— <br />
<br />
On "The Smoot Farm"! Yes—an' the hired han' <br />
<br />
'At worked there nen 'uz The Raggedy Man!— <br />
<br />
Ain't he the beatin'est Raggedy Man? <br />
<br />
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Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! <br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
The Raggedy Man's so good an' kind <br />
<br />
He'll be our "horsey," an' "haw" an' mind <br />
<br />
Ever'thing 'at you make him do— <br />
<br />
An' won't run off—'less you want him to! <br />
<br />
I drived him wunst way down our lane <br />
<br />
An' he got skeered, when it 'menced to rain, <br />
<br />
An' ist rared up an' squealed and run <br />
<br />
Purt' nigh away!—an' it's all in fun! <br />
<br />
Nen he skeered ag'in at a' old tin can ... <br />
<br />
Whoa! y' old runaway Raggedy Man! <br />
<br />
Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
An' The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes, <br />
<br />
An' tells 'em, ef I be good, sometimes: <br />
<br />
Knows 'bout Giunts, an' Griffuns, an' Elves, <br />
<br />
An' the Squidgicum-Squees 'at swallers the'rselves: <br />
<br />
An', wite by the pump in our pasture-lot, <br />
<br />
He showed me the hole 'at the Wunks is got, <br />
<br />
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'At lives 'way deep in the ground, an' can <br />
<br />
Turn into me, er 'Lizabuth Ann! <br />
<br />
Er Ma, er Pa, er The Raggedy Man! <br />
<br />
Ain't he a funny old Raggedy Man? <br />
<br />
Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
An' wunst, when The Raggedy Man come late, <br />
<br />
An' pigs ist root' thue the garden-gate, <br />
<br />
He 'tend like the pigs 'uz bears an' said, <br />
<br />
"Old Bear-shooter'll shoot 'em dead!" <br />
<br />
An' race' an' chase' 'em, an' they'd ist run <br />
<br />
When he pint his hoe at 'em like it's a gun <br />
<br />
An' go "Bang!—Bang!" nen 'tend he stan' <br />
<br />
An' load up his gun ag'in! Raggedy Man! <br />
<br />
He's an old Bear-shooter Raggedy Man! <br />
<br />
Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
An' sometimes The Raggedy Man lets on <br />
<br />
We're little prince-children, an' old King's gone <br />
<br />
To git more money, an' lef' us there— <br />
<br />
And Robbers is ist thick ever'where; <br />
<br />
An' nen—ef we all won't cry, fer shore— <br />
<br />
The Raggedy Man he'll come and "splore <br />
<br />
The Castul-halls," an' steal the "gold"— <br />
<br />
An' steal us, too, an' grab an' hold <br />
<br />
An' pack us off to his old "Cave"!—An' <br />
<br />
Haymow's the "cave" o' The Raggedy Man!— <br />
<br />
Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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The Raggedy Man—one time, when he <br />
<br />
Wuz makin' a little bow-'n'-orry fer me, <br />
<br />
Says "When you're big like your Pa is, <br />
<br />
Air you go' to keep a fine store like his— <br />
<br />
An' be a rich merchunt—an' wear fine clothes?— <br />
<br />
Er what air you go' to be, goodness knows?" <br />
<br />
An' nen he laughed at 'Lizabuth Ann, <br />
<br />
An' I says "'M go' to be a Raggedy Man!— <br />
<br />
I'm ist go' to be a nice Raggedy Man!" <br />
<br />
Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! <br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
And if she wanted to really get us to pay attention and sit really still, she would bring out the big guns, “The Little Orphan Annie” also by James Whitcomb Riley: <br />
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<br />
Little Orphan Annie's come to my house to stay. <br />
<br />
To wash the cups and saucers up and brush the crumbs away. <br />
<br />
To shoo the chickens from the porch and dust the hearth and sweep, <br />
<br />
and make the fire and bake the bread to earn her board and keep. <br />
<br />
While all us other children, when the supper things is done, <br />
<br />
we sit around the kitchen fire and has the mostest fun, <br />
<br />
a listening to the witch tales that Annie tells about <br />
<br />
and the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!<br />
<br />
Once there was a little boy who wouldn't say his prayers, <br />
<br />
and when he went to bed at night away up stairs, <br />
<br />
his mammy heard him holler and his daddy heard him bawl, <br />
<br />
and when they turned the covers down, <br />
<br />
he wasn't there at all! <br />
<br />
They searched him in the attic room <br />
<br />
and cubby hole and press <br />
<br />
and even up the chimney flu and every wheres, I guess,<br />
<br />
but all they ever found of him was just his pants and round-abouts<br />
<br />
and the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!!<br />
<br />
Once there was a little girl who always laughed and grinned <br />
<br />
and made fun of everyone, of all her blood and kin, <br />
<br />
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and once when there was company and old folks was there, <br />
<br />
she mocked them and she shocked them and said, she didn't care. <br />
<br />
And just as she turned on her heels and to go and run and hide, <br />
<br />
there was two great big black things a standing by her side. <br />
<br />
They snatched her through the ceiling fore she knew what shes about, <br />
<br />
and the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!!<br />
<br />
When the night is dark and scary, <br />
<br />
and the moon is full and creatures are a flying and the wind goes Whoooooooooo, <br />
<br />
you better mind your parents and your teachers fond and dear, <br />
<br />
and cherish them that loves ya, and dry the orphans tears <br />
<br />
and help the poor and needy ones that cluster all about, <br />
<br />
or the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!!!<br />
<br />
I write these here in this blog in hopes that those who read this may help preserve these words and use them with their own children. <br />
<br />Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-28320005407863193722011-12-28T15:45:00.000-08:002011-12-28T15:45:00.812-08:00The Battle of Minisink, New York<br />
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<br />
I have previously written about one of my sixth great grandfathers, James Little. James came to America at the age of thirteen on the ship “The George and Ann” from Ireland. He had quite an adventure when the captain decided to extend the voyage by trickery causing the immigrants and crew to starve because of short rations. See “The Hunger Ship”.<br />
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In this story I am going to tell about another James Little and his brother, John. These brothers were the sons of the James Little, the immigrant, who came on the “George and Ann”. They were my fifth Great Grand Uncles. John was born in 1751, and his brother James was born in 1753, in what is now Orange County, New York in or near the village of Goshen. They grew up in a turbulent time, when the colonists were straining to break away from their British masters. John was 24 and James was 22 years old in 1775 and fierce patriots. It should be remembered that their parents left Ireland because of religious principles imposed upon them by the British. With the Battle of Bunker Hill and the first shots fired in what was to become the American Revolutionary War, the Little family responded by enlisting in the local militia which had been formed by a Colonel Allison. John was a captain and James was a private. There is a third Little named Samuel who was in this same regiment but I am not sure of his relationship. All three were killed in the battle at Minisink Ford.</div>
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About forty five miles from Goshen was the hamlet of Minisink Ford. "Minisink" once referred to a vast area stretching all the way from Minisink Ford to the Delaware Water Gap. Today the Town of Minisink is located about thirty miles southwest of Minisink Ford. The area is composed of hills and rocky terrain. But with just over two decades of settlement, the Upper Delaware was frontier country in 1779, connected with the outside world only by walking trails and stream courses. <br />
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By the summer of 1779, the major fighting in the north was all but completed. Washington’s army had prevailed over the British in the last major engagement at Monmouth, NJ more than a year earlier. The British had retired to New York City and Washington held them in a pseudo-siege from his headquarters at Newburgh, NY. <br />
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The British attempted to divert American attention by renewing ties with former allies among the tribes of the still-powerful Iroquois Confederation. A series of raids on outlying American communities was begun as a harassing action. A Mohawk chief, Thayendanega, was the brother-in-law of former British Indian Commissioner Sir William Johnson. Thayendanega, also known as Joseph Brant, or Brandt, was well educated and traveled. He once spoke before the British Parliament. He was a principal leader in the tribe. </div>
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In the summer of 1779, Brant led a raiding party, estimated at about 80 Indians and American British sympathizers known as Tories in raids down the Delaware Valley. The raids drove frontier settlers to more populated areas like Port Jervis, then known as Peenpack, and Brant followed, raiding and burning homes on July 20, 1779. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6C3sLAq_eRMjpoh_-TNCbDC_eS-rtLlvPDkQmO_Dj-HNKemeiFpePFNB4saFR4rDoucBvZDxAvrbRZkeEt65OLU4bFxqNUXY9ySQO3jRR6WFzVtD35y2G7706ySUa6q81BH5SdHXAnoQL/s1600/Minisink-Sign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6C3sLAq_eRMjpoh_-TNCbDC_eS-rtLlvPDkQmO_Dj-HNKemeiFpePFNB4saFR4rDoucBvZDxAvrbRZkeEt65OLU4bFxqNUXY9ySQO3jRR6WFzVtD35y2G7706ySUa6q81BH5SdHXAnoQL/s1600/Minisink-Sign.jpg" /></a>After hotly deliberating the merits of engaging the marauders in combat, Tusten and 149 men – merchants, farmers and clerks, and what historian,James Eldridge Quinlan later described as "some of the principal gentlemen of the county" – set out the next day in pursuit of their quarry.</div>
<br />
There is little detail, but what is known is that a party of more than 100 militia pursued the Mohawk chief up into the wilds of the Upper Delaware. The militia caught up at present day Minisink Ford, where a botched ambush split the militia forces. Ammunition was soon depleted, and the combat was reduced to hand-to-hand, with the Mohawks and Tories getting much the better of it. The militia was routed, and nearly all of those who stayed and fought were killed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9KNP3vGmkiiYgcNolljZ-S2X6ZpzcBrqjBPxoRo0qfprPT8uLqKcT9D5knnRzrwkomwTlbYvEs6dzamR9tz2lXdyajMeYn_t-QdBRbQhFjK5W0549c15teLagGiGliPTVEW1B_xmnf1Ke/s1600/The+first+Minisink+Monument.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9KNP3vGmkiiYgcNolljZ-S2X6ZpzcBrqjBPxoRo0qfprPT8uLqKcT9D5knnRzrwkomwTlbYvEs6dzamR9tz2lXdyajMeYn_t-QdBRbQhFjK5W0549c15teLagGiGliPTVEW1B_xmnf1Ke/s320/The+first+Minisink+Monument.jpg" width="320" /></a> The remains of those slain on that desolate hilltop in what forever after would be known as the Battle of Minisink were not afforded a proper burial. Quinlan wrote that "for 43 years the bones of those who had been slain on the banks of the Delaware were permitted to molder on the battle ground. But one attempt had been made to gather them, and that was by the widows of the slaughtered men, of whom there were 33 in the Presbyterian congregation of Goshen. They set out for the place of battle on horseback, but finding the journey too hazardous, they hired a man to perform the pious duty, who proved unfaithful and never returned."</div>
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Finally, in 1822, "a committee was appointed to collect the remains and to ascertain the names of the fallen. The committee proceeded to the battle ground, a distance of 46 miles from Goshen, and viewed some of the frightful elevations and descents over which the militia had passed when pursuing the red marauders. The place where the conflict occurred, and the region for several miles around, were carefully examined and the relics of the honored dead gathered with pious care. The remains were taken to Goshen, where they were buried in the presence of 15,000 persons."<br />
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A monument was erected to mark the mass grave, upon which was inscribed the names of the 44 men killed in the battle.<br />
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<br />Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-91740275981098524022011-11-24T19:03:00.001-08:002011-11-24T19:13:37.146-08:00Henry Moses Harrold<br />
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Henry Moses Harrold, my second great grandfather, was born on 14 Jan 1840 in Zanesville, Muskingum County, Ohio, and was married before the Civil War in 1860 to Catherine E. McFarland there, but subsequently moved to Nelsonville, Athens County, Ohio. Henry was the third child and oldest living son of Richard Herald and his wife Sarah Nash Herald. His first wife, Catherine died in Nelsonville, and is buried in the Fort St. Cemetery in Nelsonville. Catherine died when her youngest child, Violet was less than two years old and his two children, his widowed mother, and he moved to Nelsonville. Two of his brothers, probably John and Charles, had walked over the hills from Zanesville to Nelsonville to get jobs in the coal mines. His brother, George was killed at the battle of Stone's River and Robert would have been much too young to have made such a trip. His mother, Sarah Nash Harrold, moved in with him and cared for his two small children. <br />
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When Henry married again, his mother moved in with her son Charles in Nelsonville. (In her will, his mother left Henry one dollar. I don't know why, but wondered if she didn't like Almyra Drake Crain, his second wife and my second great grandmother.)<br />
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Shortly after his second marriage to Almyra in December, 1866 home and family and made their way to Kansas where they homesteaded in Kansas. They lived in a soddy there while he farmed. Here their first two children, Hyla and Frank were born. One day while Henry was out working, Almyra came into the soddy where the two babies were sleeping on the bed and saw a rattlesnake on the foot of the bed. She ran out and called Henry, and while he got his gun, she teased the snake with a broom to keep it busy and Henry shot it. Apparently the two children were not hurt, but they must have been rudely awakened. <br />
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My mother always said she might have been born in Kansas but for the fact that Henry had a sunstroke and had to return to Ohio. He was never strong after that and it was probably at this time he became a carpenter. But he found this work to hard for his frail health. He was truant officer at the East School building where his daughter, Maud, taught school. Her room was in the old Town House down the hill from the home place and he used to go down and build the fires in the stove before school started and generally kept the room clean.<br />
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But he mostly spent his time working on his three acres. He had a huge garden on top of the hill. (It's hard to believe it now, with all the trees there. They must not have been there then.) He raised fruit trees of all kinds (apples, cherries, pears, plums and peaches) on the hillside behind the house. He kept chickens and pigs up near the rocks. The neighbors around the area saved scraps of food for the chickens and pigs. He also had many hives of bees and sold his honey. He had a coal mine in the upper right side of the hill below the rocks and he and his oldest son (Uncle Jim) dug all the coal that was needed to heat the house. So he was pretty self sufficient and didn't need much cash.<br />
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He did have one weakness though. He drank upon occasion and one day rode one grandchild's bicycle over the rock wall in front of the house. Almyra said, "The old fool is going to kill himself." But he never did. He died peacefully when quite old.<br />
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His oldest daughter, Hyla, never married. His other two daughters (Maud and Dee) were deserted by their husbands, who never supported their children. So they both moved in with their parents, and the six children in the combined families made for a crowded household, but a happy one. No wonder Henry tippled a little. He was a good natured man and was loved by all who knew him. He loved his family and took good care of them both financially and emotionally.<br />
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He died at the age of 75 at his home at 510 High Street, Nelsonville, Athens County Ohio on the 25 of January 1918 and is buried in Greenlawn Cemetery just south of Nelsonville. <br />
<br />Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-26296446353786794162011-11-14T16:34:00.001-08:002011-11-29T11:16:59.504-08:00Twin Trials And Triumphs In Ecuador<br />
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There are a limited number of these books left. They would make a great Christmas gift for any member or non-member. All of the proceeds go to an orphanage in Ecuador. This book is about the twin sons of Bill's cousin, Michelle, who joined us for our adventure in Europe this past summer. It was written by Bill's aunt, Mary Katzenbach.<br />
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The proceeds are used to assist an orphanage in Ecuador.<br />
<em>Twin Trials and Triumphs in Ecuador</em> chronicles stories of twins Matt and Scott Katzenbach, who served missions in adjoining sectors in Ecuador. Mary Katzenbach, an LDS author of both fiction and nonfiction, used e-mails as a major source, along with pertinent historical information that explains why this country is important to the United States. <br />
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The book is endorsed by Dr. Brent Rich, Staff physician to BYU sports teams and the MTC, who said, “The book is laugh-out-loud funny, but at the same time expresses the deepest emotional elements of these young men,” and Dr. James Knight, Bishop and professor at University of Arizona, who said, “It’s a fun read, and I recommend it enthusiastically.” <br />
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The books are being sold for $18 and can be purchased by contacting Mary Katzenbach at (480) 759-2575 or <a href="mailto:mbkatz3@cox.net">mbkatz3@cox.net</a>. <br />
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<br />Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-79895227655145651872011-10-26T16:00:00.000-07:002011-10-26T16:07:39.666-07:00Roy Alexander Morris<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roy Alexander Morris</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Written by his daughter, Ruth Louise Morris Blimes.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helen, Remus, Edith, Pearl, Nell, Clarence, Roy, Carl & Addie</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Roy was the first boy
and the fifth child of Remus Clark Morris and Addie Frances Bradds. He
lived on a farm with his parents and sisters and had very little formal
schooling. I think he went to the third grade, yet he went to various
correspondence schools while he was employed at the Southern Ohio Electric Co.
He also loved working crossword puzzles, so he was not lacking in brains. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roy Alexander Morris</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He was a handy man who could do plumbing and rebuilt part of the house at 510 High St.,
Nelsonville, Ohio and could wire a house from scratch. He and Mom raised
a huge garden every year and she kept his nose to the grindstone. I think
he would have liked to take life a little easier, but times were hard and money
was scarce. I don't ever remember a time when we didn't have plenty to
eat and nice clothes to wear, even if they were homemade. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roy as a child</td></tr>
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I have always thought it was a blessing to be in a small town during the
depression. We raised our own chickens and turkeys, raised vegetables and
had fruit trees, had our own bees and except for meat we were pretty self
sufficient. His sister, Pearl, lived on a farm and Dad would help on the
farm in exchange for part of a pig and a beef. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marquise & Roy Morris</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> I am glad that Dad lived to a ripe old age and had time to go to his "fall-out
shelter" up back and snooze on his glider as much as he wanted to.
He had earned it.<br />
He liked to read Western books and had quite a collection of Louis L’Amour
paperbacks which he read over and over. I used to wonder how he could do
that, but as I get older I forget the light fiction I read and in a year or two
I am ready to read my favorites again. He loved to hunt and fish.
He didn't hunt much in his later years but never lost his interest in fishing.<br />
I don't think he cared if he caught anything; he just liked the peace and quiet
that came with being in a picturesque setting. I can remember when he
brought squirrels or rabbits home and cleaned them up back. I used to
watch him and still remember how bad they smelled. That may have
something to do with my not liking to eat them. But the real reason was
biting into a piece of buckshot. Ugh! </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He
lived to be almost 82, dying from liver cancer.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xW607fd3nW-DqZpGJboLmgEoZCoywMrgJhxyJ4d0fwd_iS3zSpCFNk4_JLLktJ7gihAH19Ne2Xd0-pGcBBT52D-TPuZDdqfWBo8sjZA2wZKKpEsoURm4cGmkCVUvDGCvDA9l1SheO4vx/s1600/Roy+%2526+Marquise+Morris+with+Grandchildren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2xW607fd3nW-DqZpGJboLmgEoZCoywMrgJhxyJ4d0fwd_iS3zSpCFNk4_JLLktJ7gihAH19Ne2Xd0-pGcBBT52D-TPuZDdqfWBo8sjZA2wZKKpEsoURm4cGmkCVUvDGCvDA9l1SheO4vx/s320/Roy+%2526+Marquise+Morris+with+Grandchildren.jpg" width="303" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roy & Marquise with their grandchildren</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">To his mom’s words Bill
would like to add the following comments.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">When
I was fifteen I went to live with my grandparents. I was not a very good student in school and I
didn’t get along with my dad. Grandma
and Grandpa offered to take me in to help me with my studies and to bring peace
in my parents’ home. So for my Junior
and Senior years in high school I lived with them in Nelsonville, Ohio. Grandpa loved to take me fishing with him and
we also did a lot of gardening in the yard and at a garden spot they rented
along the Hocking River above Nelsonville.
I remember one time we were digging potatoes and I would lay my shovel
down on the ground when I picked up the potatoes I had uncovered. Grandpa said he could sure tell I was a “city
kid” because a “farm boy” would stick his shovel in the ground upright so he
wouldn’t have to bend over to pick it up.
I took this to heart and many years later I would tell my horticulture
students this story when they would lay their shovels flat on the ground.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCGNfiIeACQWimo8bJhPOxK_E7T54JbOMz7K_q95aZBinMNRPga6AU-ZXnf-WttAYRrEl4NAS2ppii0L15_pUy7u2_-fexVDGzEdg0prK9PgzcEC1tni3wMhCU9JUeqKstTWkkvdSLGWf/s1600/Roy+%2526+Marquise+Morris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRCGNfiIeACQWimo8bJhPOxK_E7T54JbOMz7K_q95aZBinMNRPga6AU-ZXnf-WttAYRrEl4NAS2ppii0L15_pUy7u2_-fexVDGzEdg0prK9PgzcEC1tni3wMhCU9JUeqKstTWkkvdSLGWf/s320/Roy+%2526+Marquise+Morris.jpg" width="196" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roy & Marquise</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Whenever
we were working and Grandpa would do something like pounding his thumb with a
hammer, his form of swearing was to say very emphatically, “God bless our
Sunday School Teacher”! </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOxBRUMHku5tsOLhOFCExOpvrrqfYQJXt75ovwhhuPBQ5ikaBTa5dOw4mOpzNrtFDqxrs4zmGZ-grmJ4hbejkGefn-02OQdJFwsBTCilmOxgC3DC9NnTGTAemrjXoZW9U23VhskO12BeS/s1600/Carl%252C+Edith%252C+Clarence%252C+Roy%252C+Sam%252C+Pearl%252C+Addie%252C+Remus%252C+Helen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOxBRUMHku5tsOLhOFCExOpvrrqfYQJXt75ovwhhuPBQ5ikaBTa5dOw4mOpzNrtFDqxrs4zmGZ-grmJ4hbejkGefn-02OQdJFwsBTCilmOxgC3DC9NnTGTAemrjXoZW9U23VhskO12BeS/s320/Carl%252C+Edith%252C+Clarence%252C+Roy%252C+Sam%252C+Pearl%252C+Addie%252C+Remus%252C+Helen.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carl, Edith, Clarence Roy, Sam, Pearl, Addie, Remus & Helen Morris</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> Shortly after I
graduated Grandpa took me aside and told me that because I had lived with them
off and on through my youth, he felt I was like another son but since I wasn’t
if there was anything I wanted from him, like any of his belongings or some
money, I should ask for it while he was still living because he felt it was
only right to leave his estate to his children.
He did help me with some money when I started college at Ohio University
and again when I was starting my greenhouse business in Licking County, Ohio
after I was married. </span></div>Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-40757934278150851302011-10-07T06:52:00.000-07:002011-10-07T07:05:59.598-07:00Marquise Elizabeth Goodspeed Morris<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrz6SRT3sF5Pb3ujmwgwvSua3Qois5-Uu2RamKkQ-u6aNYWtDLdlMW7NAVU-kJrMHdTwFJFJnqBSBm5914RZhgJQmYFwaa501Z2_Z5rlcK2kXEgxH4e26URX_yVx1pmqPFUwZJNv4Sw3fe/s1600/Dee+Goodspeed+with+Marquise+Goodspeed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrz6SRT3sF5Pb3ujmwgwvSua3Qois5-Uu2RamKkQ-u6aNYWtDLdlMW7NAVU-kJrMHdTwFJFJnqBSBm5914RZhgJQmYFwaa501Z2_Z5rlcK2kXEgxH4e26URX_yVx1pmqPFUwZJNv4Sw3fe/s320/Dee+Goodspeed+with+Marquise+Goodspeed.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dee Etta Harrold & Marquise Morris</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> She was
the daughter of William Allen Goodspeed and Dee Etta Harrold. She was the middle child in a family of seven
children; four girls, Helen Marie, Marquise Elizabeth, Mary Virginia, Ruth and
three boys, Edwin Harrold, Arthur Allen, and John. Ruth, Arthur and John all died in early
childhood.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The
following is from the Eulogy given by Ruth Louise Morris Blimes at her mother’s
funeral.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> Many
things shape our lives and our personalities and I would like you to know a few
of the things about our mother that made her the remarkable person she
was. She was born 3 June 1901 in the house she lived in most of her
life. Her young years were for the most part happy years. She's
told me so many stories that she remembered from her early life.</span></div>
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Not all lives run smoothly forever
though and at the tender age of nine she was to learn this. When the
father she adored deserted his family, she had her first taste of
adversity. Adversity is not an uncommon thing and is no respecter of
persons. In fact, every life has many adversities and
disappointments. They can either make you a stronger person or defeat you.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAd0zCgm_27sC-QvZnNuJ0dy8lr31lHrnN3ngck8nIf3gcR34qpR6E8J6kRUCovVy_QvrbcA-ASIl42QpmR-czVV_-jwFHVtwwaRSuSPYvpzaYw0GmOtn5Rad6Y9YYNmzPxhOKKuQcz991/s1600/Mary+Goodspeed%252C+Victory+Verity%252C+Marquise+Goodspeed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAd0zCgm_27sC-QvZnNuJ0dy8lr31lHrnN3ngck8nIf3gcR34qpR6E8J6kRUCovVy_QvrbcA-ASIl42QpmR-czVV_-jwFHVtwwaRSuSPYvpzaYw0GmOtn5Rad6Y9YYNmzPxhOKKuQcz991/s200/Mary+Goodspeed%252C+Victory+Verity%252C+Marquise+Goodspeed.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary Goodspeed, Victor Verity & Marquise</td></tr>
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Our mother grew up with cousins who
had also been abandoned by their father and her bosom buddy, the girl across
the street, was one of a large family who were also abandoned by their
father. (Bill used to remind me of this trait in our family and tell me
to mind my P's and Q;s.)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lrb5yaYlwPCvEhuRULTnvWykxanUxW3hN5X-N3uN5UE5wSmJ79YG6oVn9zb8YGnJZVao3a832IFVYV1cJ_-c97HULvk5gxpPAjXhsqf7eFXWKgZGQqYlRmO7YI3OdkQy4R4FJ1WFRgPk/s1600/510+High+St.+Nelsonville%252C+Ohio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4lrb5yaYlwPCvEhuRULTnvWykxanUxW3hN5X-N3uN5UE5wSmJ79YG6oVn9zb8YGnJZVao3a832IFVYV1cJ_-c97HULvk5gxpPAjXhsqf7eFXWKgZGQqYlRmO7YI3OdkQy4R4FJ1WFRgPk/s200/510+High+St.+Nelsonville%252C+Ohio.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">510 High St. Nelsonville, Ohio</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Her family of five and her two
cousins and their mother moved in with the Harrold grandparents at 510 High
Street. They became a happy group and I have listened many times of their
escapades and happy times.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQorlOGSyiM3JZlWk7lK2SoldLDQWK0iA0_ZA0LGHHe7cK99wBVkOWa8_jiqA7HhCn1-K_s9gYSrGj5UwHyXSFhYkxh0DsUpXqZRfZH7Ko9bjtVvuG9HdiOF6U-XJIZPOPYV0RGJ4Y7MQ9/s1600/Bride+Marquise+E.+Goodspeed%252C+Groom+Victor+H.+Verity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQorlOGSyiM3JZlWk7lK2SoldLDQWK0iA0_ZA0LGHHe7cK99wBVkOWa8_jiqA7HhCn1-K_s9gYSrGj5UwHyXSFhYkxh0DsUpXqZRfZH7Ko9bjtVvuG9HdiOF6U-XJIZPOPYV0RGJ4Y7MQ9/s200/Bride+Marquise+E.+Goodspeed%252C+Groom+Victor+H.+Verity.jpg" width="135" /></a></div>
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I have a snapshot of a mock wedding
that took place when she was about 10. She was the bride with a lace
curtain as a veil and a bunch of wild flowers as her bouquet. Her cousin,
Victor Verity, was the bridegroom and sister, Mary, the bridesmaid who stood
with a scowl on her face because she wasn't the bride. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> I've heard the
stories of how her grandmother was the family doctor who patched up their cuts
and bruises they got from running about on the hills. So she was a happy
person in those days when life was simple and you made your own entertainment.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBkBe28SXAJoMpwmOa1zMLnoUkSXPQK9tu-GEb8YBwHM6F342hqIEPZSLohQjdsgdBWneC9nhIdkbQGm9X975WDcyQhAFTbY4Q-b92_Pj55TzVxiVHioc9XrXA1uwWV1jmHvUuGPLZOVKP/s1600/Marquise+Elizabeth+Goodspeed+abt+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBkBe28SXAJoMpwmOa1zMLnoUkSXPQK9tu-GEb8YBwHM6F342hqIEPZSLohQjdsgdBWneC9nhIdkbQGm9X975WDcyQhAFTbY4Q-b92_Pj55TzVxiVHioc9XrXA1uwWV1jmHvUuGPLZOVKP/s200/Marquise+Elizabeth+Goodspeed+abt+8.jpg" width="153" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marquise age 8</td></tr>
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When she was four years old, living
in Kimberly in sight of the grade school, she ran off every day and went to
school. Finally the teacher told her mother to just let her come. She had
a phenomenal memory and could still recite poems she had learned in her youth.
She had a love of learning that never diminished.<br />
She graduated at sixteen, went to Ohio U. for a year, going back and forth on
the streetcar every day. She got a teaching certificate and by age
seventeen she was teaching school at the East School in Nelsonville.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyX-PwHeS2HkbZTBA6rhlvSlif-JWUrm1ebcM4UlzlCY_wtXJwhfqS7tB0rCf9NioR3NbqZefVohZDXcl141FTZC0gGdcCwO8Q9UM_du1wRO7HrBeIlukJXx1ucZ-xVnsXa7gSKO7P7juw/s1600/Roy+%2526+Marquise+Morris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyX-PwHeS2HkbZTBA6rhlvSlif-JWUrm1ebcM4UlzlCY_wtXJwhfqS7tB0rCf9NioR3NbqZefVohZDXcl141FTZC0gGdcCwO8Q9UM_du1wRO7HrBeIlukJXx1ucZ-xVnsXa7gSKO7P7juw/s200/Roy+%2526+Marquise+Morris.jpg" width="122" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roy & Marquise</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">She met our Dad and after he
came home from the Navy, they married and soon had a young family. But
adversity was not through with her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">
The Great Depression came
along. Some of you remember it and some of you are too young. I
remember some things about it. Our mother accepted this challenge, this
adversity, and became a strong willed person. She was a hard worker
and she managed the dollar a day that dad made in such a way that none of us
ever realized we were poor. By raising a large garden and our own
chickens and turkeys and by working for my uncle who had a farm they would get
a half of beef or a pig. We always had plenty to eat. She made most
of our clothes from material that cost about ten cents a yard and made
countless quilts and things for the house.</span></div>
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To succeed in this she had to become
a strong willed, determined mother and wife. This was to affect all of
us. She was sometimes short tempered because we didn't always live up to
expectations. She had neither the time nor energy to waste on disobedient
children and I know I got paddled every day whether I needed it or not.
Consequently as I was growing up we didn't always see eye to eye on many
things. But she was a mother who took good care of all of us.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsmoJkYFK_ZU4wm_nuKl0zZst-qvF_w7sczFEMh-J_oRGsZ9hye3O6ao3gPzUY3OaPdgaymB5WneopLkyEqgkvun58KmM7FdBzzu3nBjsxc15s0SkkjtoTU1ljhFxfWvDMsQEsTmhdveOi/s1600/Roy+Morris+Family+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsmoJkYFK_ZU4wm_nuKl0zZst-qvF_w7sczFEMh-J_oRGsZ9hye3O6ao3gPzUY3OaPdgaymB5WneopLkyEqgkvun58KmM7FdBzzu3nBjsxc15s0SkkjtoTU1ljhFxfWvDMsQEsTmhdveOi/s320/Roy+Morris+Family+001.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bob, Marquise, Marilyn, Kenny, Roy & Ruth Morris</td></tr>
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She was the best cook around and I
have never tasted a pie as good as the ones she made. She would go out in
the kitchen and bake a couple of pies and while they were cooling she would
decide what to cook for our meal.<br />
She was a good neighbor who willingly
sat up all night with the baby next door who had pneumonia so his mother could
sleep that she might take care of him the next day.<br />
She took care of all of us when we
had our children and gave us a couple of weeks R & R before we took our
babies home.<br />
She was a good Christian who read
and knew her Bible.<br />
She was honest to a fault and taught
us to do unto others as we would have them do unto us. I remember a song
she taught me when I was very young. It was to the tune of Love Lifted
Me. But the words were "John 3:16, John 3:16, when nothing else can help,
John 3:16”. So I learned that verse very early in life. "For
God so Loved the world that He gave His only begotten son that whosoever
believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life."</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNAdgnD2kYPWdJqNf-L0pL862OtWeMbAKnRB3YW46m8wxHtHPA3KhR8CUE_JDUDE5KPic3Dw6f5zGBNtBbw1qs1QSO1Oduwrsnj8GUr-UL4z_70DLMflKkIDJgmlmO4BiXCqpjDUM5pJ59/s1600/Grandma+Marquise+Morris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNAdgnD2kYPWdJqNf-L0pL862OtWeMbAKnRB3YW46m8wxHtHPA3KhR8CUE_JDUDE5KPic3Dw6f5zGBNtBbw1qs1QSO1Oduwrsnj8GUr-UL4z_70DLMflKkIDJgmlmO4BiXCqpjDUM5pJ59/s320/Grandma+Marquise+Morris.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> To my
mom’s words I would like to add the following story. (by Bill Blimes, Jr)</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw9vc0Zu3g0jKjK1zvBUC640-BlqGKXOPmwZEeh3rTNthnjYHBUsm1CXEQBv-o094Ma00A299Geu3LLzNegpnLQqfyAczUui914eGqRMBddfcrZXfySdfQSGzr6Yra2ihWe63OqEjInKRb/s1600/Grandma+Morris%2527s+Favorite+Place.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw9vc0Zu3g0jKjK1zvBUC640-BlqGKXOPmwZEeh3rTNthnjYHBUsm1CXEQBv-o094Ma00A299Geu3LLzNegpnLQqfyAczUui914eGqRMBddfcrZXfySdfQSGzr6Yra2ihWe63OqEjInKRb/s320/Grandma+Morris%2527s+Favorite+Place.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma on her porch swing. This is how I remember her.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> When I
was fifteen I went to live with my grandparents. I was not a very good student in school and I
didn’t get a long with my dad. Grandma
offered to take me in to help me with my studies and to bring peace in my
parents’ home. So for my Junior and
Senior years in high school I lived with them in Nelsonville, Ohio. I remember having a conversation about Grandma’s
first name, Marquise. She told me that
her father had a good friend that was also a mining engineer and he was from
Marquise, France. He named Grandma for
this town located in Northern France.
Recently while I was in France I had the opportunity to visit this small
village. It is located a little south of
Calais and has a history associated with mining. You can read more about this
visit in our blog, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Further Adventures of
Bill & Sylvia</i>”.<br />
<br />
<br />
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Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-88736737723009421932011-10-03T16:01:00.000-07:002011-10-03T16:01:25.666-07:00FAMILY SEARCH ADDS MORE GENEALOGY RECORDS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgplfZrYdv61UYvwPob9XxnWK6NAo0z8zf1wBRbgz8xspYq8-QyIpxHy_n8lSOGyrtYs5FkP-gVXavrs99dMuU7SOkUGEta57MMoilGmYf9gaTJIjtkFLB30qnJTbUubq1ZwdskG6w0wuyd/s1600/Tulips.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgplfZrYdv61UYvwPob9XxnWK6NAo0z8zf1wBRbgz8xspYq8-QyIpxHy_n8lSOGyrtYs5FkP-gVXavrs99dMuU7SOkUGEta57MMoilGmYf9gaTJIjtkFLB30qnJTbUubq1ZwdskG6w0wuyd/s320/Tulips.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><i>Deseret News</i></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Published: Sunday, Oct.
2, 2011<br />
FamilySearch has added more than 20 collections in the past month that have
more than a million new records or images. Dozens of collections from records
around the world have also been updated with thousands of other records.<br />
<br />
More than 6.6 million index records were added to Hungary Catholic Church
Record, 1636-1895 and more than 2.5 million images were added to New York, New
York Passenger and Crew Lists, 1925-1942. Another 1.5 million images and more
than 800,000 records were added to U.S. World War II Draft Registration Cards,
1942 collection.<br />
<br />
Seven collections from Mexico have been updated with more than a million
records or images include: Mexico, Durango, Civil Registration, 1861–1995;
Mexico, Michoacán, Civil Registration, 1859–1940; Mexico, Chiapas, Civil
Registration, 1861–1990; Mexico, Coahuila, Civil Registration, 1861–1998;
Mexico, Zacatecas, Civil Registration, 1860–2000; Mexico, México Estado, Civil
Registration, 1861–1941 and Mexico, Chihuahua, Civil Registration, 1861–1997.<br />
<br />
More than a million browsable images have been added to these five
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Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-2837633219247248242011-09-28T16:27:00.000-07:002011-09-28T16:34:43.631-07:00Genealogy HumorWhen Bill was a little boy his dad use to sing "I'm My Own Grandpa" to him. Enjoy!
<iframe width="459" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/KfNpk2Bt0OM?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowFullScreen=""></iframe>
Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-62743074065852700372011-09-23T08:11:00.000-07:002011-09-23T08:11:03.884-07:00Genealogy: Expanding the Family TreeThis is an interesting article from Deseret News. We are excited to use the "how you are related to famous people" search on familysearch.org. Ancestry.com used to have this feature and we used it to show our family and clients how they are related to presidents and poets.<br />
Genealogy: Expanding the family tree<br />
Published: Monday, Sept. 19, 2011 6:40 p.m. MDT <br />
By Joey Ferguson, Deseret News <br />
It was done already. That's why Sean Sullivan, 57, never did much family history, until the Provo resident discovered he was related to Samuel Clemens, better known as Mark Twain . <br />
Sean Sullivan made the connection on Relative Finder, a Facebook application that uses data from FamilySearch.org to show how users are related to friends and famous people. Since then, he has spent hours, logging 40 hours in one week, digesting ancestor research online.<br />
This year family history viewers have topped 149 million, based on website statistics from Compete.com, as users, typically aged 45 and older, seek out connections to relatives. <br />
More than 100 million records will be made available this year via companies like Salt Lake City-based FamilySearch International, owned by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Provo-based Ancestry.com Inc. and Palo Alto, California-based Archives.com. Part-time ancestral sleuths are turning to the Internet to find their progenitors, with companies trying to keep up with a growing market.<br />
"Stuff keeps changing on FamilySearch almost daily," Sullivan said. "You go back today and look at a family line, you may find it goes back deeper than it was last week, or even yesterday. For some reason I hadn't tapped into it before."<br />
With more interest in the market, there is a scramble to gather content in order to keep up with the growth. This has even led to major partnerships, including FamilySearch partnering with Ancestry to digitize the content in the LDS church's Granite Mountain Records Vault, where only 20 percent of the 4 billion records have been digitized.<br />
Genealogy: Expanding the family tree<br />
Published: Monday, Sept. 19, 2011 6:40 p.m. MDT <br />
By Joey Ferguson, Deseret NewsBill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-51852234526345964582011-09-21T11:51:00.000-07:002011-09-21T15:22:21.167-07:00Bedford House Cemetery, Belgium<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyo_sBARzT1Sv8ZDEQHWr_qMaRf1kS3aVFUW6263j_nhiv2OV3HvgRW5bq8FOF9HSQHYsK_B4RAn1r3ucjgKSxffj2a15BOITSFLC7PtMH1o6Eyxz-MUz9fL6SGA41XQUe0izXbRiPp1MA/s1600/blimes+5+074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyo_sBARzT1Sv8ZDEQHWr_qMaRf1kS3aVFUW6263j_nhiv2OV3HvgRW5bq8FOF9HSQHYsK_B4RAn1r3ucjgKSxffj2a15BOITSFLC7PtMH1o6Eyxz-MUz9fL6SGA41XQUe0izXbRiPp1MA/s200/blimes+5+074.JPG" /></a></div>We visited many World War I cemeteries in France and Belgium. One of the most impressive “small” cemeteries was the one we found as were out driving around in Belgium visiting small villages. It was located in peaceful farmland between Ypres (Ieper) and Armentieres in an area known as the Ypres Salient; a salient is a battlefield feature that projects into enemy territory.<br />
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By November 1918 the Ypres Salient was a blasted, desolate wilderness. In four years of concentrated warfare hundreds of thousands of soldiers had fought doggedly over this corner of the Western Front. Thousands had died in four major battles. Daily life in the Sailent’s hostile environment claimed the lives of thousands more. By the time the fighting stopped, more than half a million were dead.<br />
Bedford House, sometimes known as Woodcote House, were the names given by the Army to the Chateau Rosendal, a country mansion set in wooded parkland with moats. <br />
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Although it never fell into German hands, the house and the trees were gradually destroyed by shell fire. It was used by field ambulances and as the headquarters of brigades and other fighting units. In time, the property became largely covered by small cemeteries; five enclosures existed at the date of the after the Armistice it was enlarged when 3,324 graves were brought in from other burial grounds and from the battlefields of the Ypres Salient. <br />
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Almost two-thirds of the graves are unidentified. Enclosure No. 6 was made in the 1930s from the graves that were continuing to be found on the battlefield of the Ypres Salient. This enclosure also contains Second World War burials, all of them soldiers of the British Expeditionary Force, who died in the defense of the Ypres-Comines canal and railway at the end of May 1940. In all, 5,139 Commonwealth servicemen of the First World War are buried or commemorated in the enclosures of Bedford House Cemetery. <br />
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We never visited a cemetery that was not well maintained. The grass was always cut and the edges around the stones were well trimmed. All the graves had flowering plants around the tombstones. Sylvia read that flowers that grew in the countries the soldiers were from were planted around the markers so when family members came to visit they would find a little reminder of home. They also planted them so that the deceased soldiers would lie among familiar flowers.<br />
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We wandered over the whole cemetery reading tombstones and looking at the flowers and birds. In the center of the site was where the chateau had been located. All that was left was a set of steps leading up to a mound where the house had stood. Off to one side was a wooden door, which lead into a basement that was used as a field station for treating wounded soldiers. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLzoczdlaBQ2dnhYoR1UjHACzRO1yfOahghihpC25m8qU2ze29s_eNVIcVg5Tjr87Egu7vZ1EtE3kfscPPhLoVjCwqNIH21rou8o33ZylF5D240v5F7AZPA3e7vdt6ORZ8i2-tgDu4qPs6/s1600/blimes+5+093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLzoczdlaBQ2dnhYoR1UjHACzRO1yfOahghihpC25m8qU2ze29s_eNVIcVg5Tjr87Egu7vZ1EtE3kfscPPhLoVjCwqNIH21rou8o33ZylF5D240v5F7AZPA3e7vdt6ORZ8i2-tgDu4qPs6/s200/blimes+5+093.JPG" /></a></div>This reads "A Soldier of the Great War Known Only to God".Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-5988947127447425342011-09-14T18:00:00.000-07:002011-09-14T18:02:00.047-07:00Adeline Francis Bradds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGwmebfWVH2LEOB__YOv0FA9WD4DBL54H73GQflwcQyX-4UAgMEvaRLmCPoqsd2y03UK5nbyDrlI7eGQvgnF8dBctQg3hh4Enun_0cD9px3i5zTlX0q0bsXU9Cyt_y1DhOIIWHpDckv_C5/s1600/Addie+Frances+Bradds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGwmebfWVH2LEOB__YOv0FA9WD4DBL54H73GQflwcQyX-4UAgMEvaRLmCPoqsd2y03UK5nbyDrlI7eGQvgnF8dBctQg3hh4Enun_0cD9px3i5zTlX0q0bsXU9Cyt_y1DhOIIWHpDckv_C5/s200/Addie+Frances+Bradds.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<b>Recollections by Ruth Morris Blimes</b><br />
Grandma Morris was the sweetest, kindest person I ever knew. I don't ever remember her saying an unkind word about anyone. I don't think I ever saw her lose her temper. She had that sweet Virginia drawl all of her life and it tickled us to hear her talk. She used to come up to our house to visit and we only had two bedrooms then, so she had to sleep in my twin bed with me. She always made me say my prayers before I went to sleep and we would lie and talk about things in general. I don't remember what we talked about, but I have fond memories of those times. She used to clean out the icebox (we didn't have an electric fridge then,) and she would make a stew out of all the leftovers. It was awful, but we were forced to eat some of it because she said it was a sin to waste good food. I can still see her wending her way up to the barn. I think she did some of the milking, but her main job was in the milk house behind the house. She ran the cream separator and they sold part of the cream. She would wash all the milk buckets and the equipment needed to get the milk ready to sell. She had a hugh fenced in garden where she planted many kinds of vegetables. When you walked out of the back door, it was just across the yard. I remember she had gooseberry bushes growing along the fence and how I delighted to raid them when the gooseberries were half ripe. There was a persimmon tree up over the bank as you started up to the barn. I don't remember ever eating any of them. They weren't good until it frosted and by then we didn't go down as much. I also remember one time all the grandkids were there and we went out past the milkhouse to a hugh sycamore tree and climbed around on the lower limbs. I don't know whose idea it was to starting yelling and screaming, but we did and it was a lot of fun. What was not so funny was the paddlings Bob and I got for scaring our parents. We were the only ones who got paddled. Family reunions were a lot of fun. More food than we could ever eat and more people than you can shake a stick at. Those were good times.<br />
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<br />
<b>Obituary of Adeline Francis Bradds</b><br />
"I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the good faith. Henceforth, there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness."<br />
<br />
Mrs. Addie Frances Morris, the daughter of John and Margaret Bradds, was born in Rockbridge County, Virginia, on October 18, 1867. She departed this life June 27, 1946, at her farm home near Athens, Ohio, at the age of 78 years, 8 months and 9 days. She married Remus Clark Morris in February, 1888, and to this union was born eight children, four daughters and four sons. Her husband and an infant son, John, having preceded her in death, the surviving children are: Nell Porter, New York City; Edith Short, Marietta; Pearl Morris, Athens #3; Helen May, Los Angeles, California; Roy Morris, Nelsonville; Clarence Morris, at home; and Carl Morris, Athens #3; fifteen grandchildren, four great-grandchildren, and a host of other relatives and friends. She was converted at the age of twelve and lived a faithful and consistent Christian life until her death. Her beautiful life and character will stand out as a memorial to her children and all who came in contact with her. She was always ready with a helping hand and words of sympathy for those in trouble and distress. She was loved by all who knew her and made friends wherever she went. No word can express what she meant to her children, who were ever ready to care for and cheer her declining years. She will be greatly missed, but our loss will be Heaven's Eternal gain.<br />
<br />
As her spirit left her body, she opened her eyes, looking straight beyond. What she saw there filled her with joy and satisfied her, for a sweet smile come over her face. And those who had cared for her so faithfully during her long illness, declared they had never seen a sweeter, more peaceful look on any face. She had beheld Heaven's glory. Shad made the crossing.<br />
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<br />
Sunset and Evening Star<br />
And one clear call for me,<br />
And may there be no moaning at the bar<br />
When I put out to sea.<br />
<br />
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,<br />
Too full for sound or foam<br />
When that which drew from out the boundless deep<br />
Turns again home.<br />
<br />
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<b>The True Story of the birth of Adeline Francis Bradds</b><br />
(Contrary to the above obituary, Addie was not the daughter of John and Margaret. Her mother, Margaret Bradds, never married, Handed down from the Bradds family, the tradition says that Frank Bennington was her father. The Bradds farm and the Bennington farm were adjoining according to the 1850 Rockbridge Co. Census.)Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-24757160646359456472011-09-12T07:50:00.000-07:002011-09-12T08:14:15.014-07:00Polygamy Wives of George Plant WardWives of Sylvia's great grandfather, George P. Ward<br />
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Front: Lorenzo N.Ward, Sennie Dorthea Nielsen, George Plant Ward, Jr., Mary Ellen Ward Williams, Martha Ann Ward Jensen. 2nd Row: Wilford N. Ward, Alice Jane Ward Roylance, Mary Ann Ward Judy, Rosezina Nielsen Ward Cox, Lucy Ann Ward Curtis, Charles Heber Ward, William Albert Ward, 3rd Row: Alfred N. Ward, Clements George Ward, Edmond A. Ward.<br />
<br />
George married his first Wife,Sarah Ann Plant, in England. Even though she never left England her name is included on his tombstone in Rexburg, Idaho.<br />
The daughter of Elizabeth Maversley and John Plant; was born September 23, 1824, at<br />
Walton N. Hants, England. She was married to George P. Ward on March 28, 1849, at West Walton, Norfolk, England.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrJuoOUVFStBenn1grNzzMkeYgHFwir2DwMwFmg4JZQBFfBVXEsd4ONCJe6YPRiVm0MiUPBb7MvJ7HRIbdIVUFt7Kcw_0B_y2p7pnCD_xE4SBFZtU-BlpD1Epo7_Pw1STQInqWJbgarxF/s1600/tombstone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="73" width="96" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDrJuoOUVFStBenn1grNzzMkeYgHFwir2DwMwFmg4JZQBFfBVXEsd4ONCJe6YPRiVm0MiUPBb7MvJ7HRIbdIVUFt7Kcw_0B_y2p7pnCD_xE4SBFZtU-BlpD1Epo7_Pw1STQInqWJbgarxF/s200/tombstone.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
She and her husband first heard the Gospel preached on the first Sunday in January 1851,and they were both baptized in less than three weeks — on January 23, 1851. She must have been a noble, humble, loyal receptive person and ready for the Gospel. There were only sixteen members in their branch including themselves. This indicates that she immediately entered the spirit of the gospel and assumed her share of the responsibilities and received the joy that comes through service<br />
in the work — for the Lord was with them. Another evidence of her loyalty to the gospel and her husband was when he sold his business and became a missionary and spent eight consecutive years doing missionary work and moving frequently. This leaves evidence that a great deal depended upon her, assisting her husband, caring for her family and assuming the greater part of their responsibilities.<br />
She became the mother of four children; one had died, but she left three small children to mourn the loss of a wonderful mother. One of the children only lived two weeks after her death.<br />
She died at Liverpool, England, January 14, 1859. At the time of her death, her husband was presiding over the Liverpool Conference.<br />
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<br />
George's second wife was Martha Monks.<br />
She was born September 14, 1839, near Bolton, Lanchestershire,<br />
England, the daughter of John Monks and Alice Fletcher. She was married<br />
in England, July 21, 1860, to George P. Ward, taking the two children his<br />
wife Sarah had left motherless to raise.<br />
They emigrated to Utah in 1861 and settled in Wellsville, Utah, where their first child was born. They then moved to Hyrum, Utah, wherethey lived for about fifteen years and where seven children were born to them.<br />
<br />
In 1867, her husband married into polygamy to Sennie Dorthea Nielsen; and again in 1874, he married a fourth wife, Jane Ashworth. These two ladies were called Aunt Sennie and Aunt Jane by the children. They all seemed to be very united because both Sennie and Jane assisted Martha with the washing, cleaning, and work in<br />
general.<br />
In 1878 the families moved to Randolph, Utah, and here Martha bore her ninth child.<br />
<b>Within a year all three wives presented their husband with a baby.</b> Their next move was to Meadowville, Utah. Here Martha bore her tenth and last baby. She buried four of her children while they were babies.<br />
In 1884, Jane Ashworth died leaving a family of four children. Her dying request was for Martha to raise her two little girls; ages ten and two. So again, Martha took two stepchildren, making a total of six of her own and four stepchildren.<br />
Hers was not a life of all sunshine and roses. They were in poor circumstances and had large families. She never allowed her stepchildren to call her mamma. ( Maybe this was because she wanted them to remember their own mothers.) The families moved to Salem, Idaho, in the Snake River Valley in 1884. She was a faithful Latter-day Saint and for some time served as the first president of the Relief Society in the Salem Ward. She died May 8, 1899. Most of her children were married at the time of her death.<br />
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<br />
More about George's third wife, Sennie Dorthea Nielsen.<br />
She was born September 25, 1846, at Bendslev, Hjerring,<br />
Denmark. She was the daughter of Soren Nielsen and Elsie Marie Jensen. She came to America with her father in 1859 after the death of her mother. They settled in Hyrum, Utah, where she grew up. She earned her own living and in her spare time gathered wool from the fences and weeds; washed and corded it and either spun it into yarn or wove it into cloth and made her own clothes and knit her own<br />
stockings.<br />
Girls in those days were taught by the church that they should marry into polygamy. George P. Ward, though 18 years older than she, called at her home and she invited him to have tea with her. George told her he liked lump sugar. At first her father did not like George, but later learned to like him. On August 18, 1867, she became his wife. Twenty years later, because of the trouble concerning polygamy, she was forced to take her family and go into seclusion. Because of this situation she and her family and the two sons of Jane’s that she was raising had to suffer bitter hardships and privations for over five years in Wyoming where they lived at two different towns.<br />
She was the mother of nine children, three of whom died in childhood. She also raised the two small boys of Jane’s after her death. She and Jane were like sisters and got along very well. She later assisted in raising Rosezina’s family after the death of their father. She cared for the children while the mother earned the living for them. She died February 2, 1927, at Newdale, Idaho, at the age of 80 years.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0iP1fXS3HIKPJnEOjwyNhpm68VcdIm7fcT1TpCGQAnW4uLATjGg-tlAuQ3k3a4C3eakMeEIwxvm7OSBEt4XEPTcZFu24VAqy5EO-UezOdbd3FQwjxQpGYMdKY9MYScJtNqnfJKvbqeFO/s1600/jane+ashworth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE0iP1fXS3HIKPJnEOjwyNhpm68VcdIm7fcT1TpCGQAnW4uLATjGg-tlAuQ3k3a4C3eakMeEIwxvm7OSBEt4XEPTcZFu24VAqy5EO-UezOdbd3FQwjxQpGYMdKY9MYScJtNqnfJKvbqeFO/s200/jane+ashworth.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
More about George's fourth wife, Jane Ashworth.<br />
She was born October 4, 1853, at Bolton, Lanchestershire, England, the daughter of<br />
Edmond Ashworth and Alice Monks. Little is known of her life. She came from England and married George P. Ward on March 30, 1874, in the Endowment House in Salt Lake City, Utah.<br />
During her married life she lived in Hyrum, Randolph, and Meadowville, Utah. She was<br />
the mother of four children; two girls and two boys. She and her husband’s third wife (Aunt Sennie as she was called) were like sisters and worked together helping the second wife, Martha, and also helped each other. When her fifth child was to be born, she took ill. At the time there was a terrible blizzard and they lived miles from any medical aid. Her husband sent some of his older boys on horseback to get help. He told them of the seriousness of his wife and that they must not spare<br />
the horses. They must go as fast as possible and change horses when possible, but to get help. During those hours of her grave illness, she realized her life was in danger and called her family to her. She told her husband to give the two boys to Aunt Sennie and the girls to Aunt Martha. Her girls were 10 and 2 years of age. She asked the oldest girl to promise she would never do anything mean to her little sister. The girls lived with Aunt Martha until the older one was married and then she took the younger one to live with her. Help did not arrive soon enough to save the mother or baby. Jane died without giving birth to her child. She died at Meadowville, Utah. Her husband was too ill to even attend her funeral. Her name is also included on George's tombstone.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0SwXXwOBlcIgOwoE9jvt6x03Sbn5eYe0hnm7oEKZkohj796tyMQElQoc9NMP_DtrmJf51-bPbQqVee8TLxV4rTcN9wDXHU_2xIkpJ3SuW2CUydyUxJ0T7ETHn4yQwId2CdP7AoXQQEC0n/s1600/jane+tombstone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0SwXXwOBlcIgOwoE9jvt6x03Sbn5eYe0hnm7oEKZkohj796tyMQElQoc9NMP_DtrmJf51-bPbQqVee8TLxV4rTcN9wDXHU_2xIkpJ3SuW2CUydyUxJ0T7ETHn4yQwId2CdP7AoXQQEC0n/s200/jane+tombstone.jpg" /></a></div>Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-65846141434739743942011-09-09T16:49:00.001-07:002011-09-09T17:35:54.628-07:00Autobiography of George Plant WardWritten in Salem, Idaho on January 31, 1899 by Sylvia's great grandfather, George P. Ward<br />
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The biography of your humble servant commences at the early dawn of January 1, 1828, at Newborough, Northamptonshire, England. I am the son of John Ward and Ann Woods, who were born at Eye, Northamptonshire, England, and North Lufnaham, Ruthlandshire, England, respectfully. My parents were in humble circumstances and the common education of life was not attainable, in consequence of which my education was limited. I spent the first twenty years of my life on the farm and at the time of the inauguration of the Free Trade Law, which proved to be very detrimental to the renters, my father was compelled to leave the farm. In consequence I turned my attention to the bakery and grocery business in which I was successful.<br />
I was married March 28th , 1849 to Sarah Ann Plant who bore me four children. At this time we were living in West Walton in Norfolk County. There were no Latter-Day Saints in the vicinity until late in the fall of 1850. My wife and I first heard the Gospel preached on the first Sunday in January 1851, and were baptized on the 23rd, of the same month. I was ordained to the Priesthood in February following, and ordained an elder in March of the same year. I commenced my missionary labors on the day I was ordained an elder and was successful in the work, as we had a new branch of sixteen members: my father, mother, youngest brother, and two sisters being among the number. We had much joy in our labors for the Lord was with us. <br />
At a conference held at Bedford I was called as a missionary, sold out my business and left on Nov. 1st , 1851, leaving my wife, child, father, mother, brother and sisters. I was appointed to labor at New Market and vicinity. After two weeks of continuous labors I was unable to get a meeting in the great town of New Market. I then directed my labors to the surrounding county and was very successful in so doing. In a small town called Seahim. I baptized sixteen unto the church, and a very successful branch was organized. After this I was appointed to labor in the Southampton conference, in the branches of which my labors were abundantly blessed in the bringing of many souls to the truths of the Gospel, and the building up of the various organizations. I labored in this conference during 1853 and 1854. In 1855 I was called to labor in Scotland and was appointed by the presidency to labor in the different branches of the Glasgow conference, in which I was blessed in the counseling of my brethren and the Saints.<br />
In the reformation of 1857 my president (the president of the Glasgow Conference) baptized me after I had first baptized him, We together baptized forty of the members of the conference and continued our labors in this direction throughout the different branches, in which was manifest to us that we were all accepted of the Lord. During this year I was called by Apostle E. T. Benson to labor in the Dundee Conference; while laboring in this conference, I was up to hold a discussion for three nights at Airbraugh. The subjects were arranged by Apostle Benson, which ended in a perfect victory for the Gospel, my opponent having given up and was satisfied in two nights, he being incapable and not desiring to continue longer. After visiting the different branches, we went to old Bonie Aberdien where I received a call from the Liverpool office notifying me that I was appointed to preside over the Liverpool conference. A short time after commencing my labors in Liverpool I had the misfortune of losing my wife who was called by death; two weeks after the death of my wife, I also lost a daughter in death leaving me with two children to mourn the loss of our dear ones.<br />
I had the good luck in getting Sister Clegg at Stockton (of Stockport) in whose tender care I placed my children, and by whom they were given every attention possible.<br />
Continuing my labors with much pleasure and being blessed by the power of God, we labored diligently in the up-building, and bringing many to the cause of truth. In the fall of the same year I was called to preside over the Irish Mission. In connection with my brethren we labored with much satisfaction and with the blessings of the Lord. I was pleased with the opportunity to labor in this part of the Lord’s Vineyard. In the fall of 1858 I was appointed to labor in the Manchester Conference, having much pleasure in visiting the branches, and was an instrument in the organizing of branches that had become disorganized.<br />
In July 1860, on July 21, I was again married, taking to wife Martha Monks, daughter of John and Alice Monks, and who was born Sept. 14th, 1839, near Bolton, Lanchestershire, England. (She bore me ten children. She died May 8th, 1899, after a useful life.)<br />
I was appointed captain of the guard on the ship Manchester. We were 27 days and nine hours coming from Liverpool to New York. After a long and tiresome journey, we arrived in Florence, Nebraska and stayed in camp here for six weeks, leaving with ox teams under the care of Ira Eldgredge, arriving in Salt Lake City, Sept. 14th, 1861. Our riches consisted of fifty cents cash. My wife and two children had no shoes. All was well. We visited father and mother (John and Ann Woods Ward) at Ft. Herriman for six weeks and then started for Wellsville, Cache County, and arrived there October 25, 1861.<br />
In November, my wife and I enjoyed the privilege of receiving our endowments in the Salt Lake Endowment house.<br />
In March 1862, we moved to Hyrum, Cache Co. I was appointed president of the teachers quorum shortly after arriving, which position I held for fifteen years, acting on many occasions as bishop of the ward and was called as one of the (members of the High Council previous to the reorganization of the Stakes of Zion) appointees of organization of the Stakes of Zion. I had the privilege of being a member of the School of the Prophets. Shortly after this I was ordained a Seventy of the 64th Quorum.<br />
During the epidemic of diphtheria there were seven of the family stricken, but by the blessings of the Lord we lost none.<br />
On August 18, 1867, I married a plural wife, Sennie D. Nielsen, (daughter of Seron and Elsie Marie Nielsen, and who was born Sept. 25th 1846 in Yerring, Denmark) by whom there are nine children (Six of whom are living).<br />
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<br />
In the year 1871, I was again called to fulfill a mission in England, during which I was appointed as president of the Manchester conference, in which position I filled with pleasure and satisfaction to my brethren. On my return I was appointed captain of a company of 3 50 Saints sailing on the ship “Wisconsin.” In September 1872, I arrived home in the full blessing of health.<br />
On reaching home in Hyrum I received a kind reception from my families who were all well, and from the saints who were glad to have me back. I employed myself on the farm and in the fall of 1873 I made up one thousand and fifteen gallons of sugar cane syrup.<br />
At the time the Utah Northern railroad went through, I was cook for the company. Our quarters were at Richmond and Logan. After this I was agent for the Hyrum Lumber Co. in Logan. It was afterward called the Cache County Lumber Co. I was also secretary and treasurer for the Seventies of Hyrum, Paradise, Wellsville, and Millville. We employed two men to work on the Salt Lake Temple.<br />
On March 30th , 1874, I again married, taking Jane Ashworth to wife. She was born Oct. 4th, 1853 and was the daughter of Edmond Ashworth and Alice Ashworth. She is the mother of four children. I left Hyrum in 1878 and moved to Randolph, Rich Co., Utah. From here we moved to Meadowville, Rich Co., Utah, and from there we moved to Snake River Valley, arriving in the latter place September 21st, 1884, and settled in Salem.<br />
I have had a family of 27 children; 18 living and nine dead. I have 30 grandchildren and 13 great grandchildren.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwppI_cTEIDTAW5bF_uKvudXn87v5UYDWQQcXVZqjnI3T2m5EpWBTqcLyk6U6r164PUe74J6I2qsETcjvhHdhSriAW8wa1h9Id1jOREXxWfEc6wvxt4biJRu9x0-L_ckfooUGADrlUvFKU/s1600/George+Ward+Tombstone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="150" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwppI_cTEIDTAW5bF_uKvudXn87v5UYDWQQcXVZqjnI3T2m5EpWBTqcLyk6U6r164PUe74J6I2qsETcjvhHdhSriAW8wa1h9Id1jOREXxWfEc6wvxt4biJRu9x0-L_ckfooUGADrlUvFKU/s200/George+Ward+Tombstone.jpg" /></a></div>Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-36371135011734424312011-09-01T07:45:00.000-07:002011-09-02T13:09:24.082-07:00From the corners of my mind…My Aunt Marilyn Francis Morris Carter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr71ONb7zVqZrsY3V0DTL1iDjC0eJHthi8-HkP4nf5svfIN-AHDziWuGJC1NtqFjU0mU61_vzG4jxg0debIjDHowVmAZavuqkZ2kChA3hZjH8LbddmJ-zygdGhSMzvUPl1HOyhCHalL-3C/s1600/Marilyn+4.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="161" width="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr71ONb7zVqZrsY3V0DTL1iDjC0eJHthi8-HkP4nf5svfIN-AHDziWuGJC1NtqFjU0mU61_vzG4jxg0debIjDHowVmAZavuqkZ2kChA3hZjH8LbddmJ-zygdGhSMzvUPl1HOyhCHalL-3C/s200/Marilyn+4.bmp" /></a></div><br />
Marilyn Frances Morris Carter; daughter of Roy Alexander and Marquise Elizabeth Goodspeed Morris; sister of Robert Leroy Morris, Ruth Louise Morris Blimes, and Kenneth Edwin Morris; wife of Ned Darrell Carter; mother of Carolyn Dee Carter Highland, Virginia Lee Carter Puhl, Keith Darrell Carter, and Richard Alan Carter; my Aunt, my friend and my buddy.<br />
One of my first memories of my aunt Marilyn was going to a movie in 1959 in Nelsonville, Ohio at the Majestic theatre, downtown on the square. I was 16 and <br />
Marilyn was 28. <br />
I was born in Nelsonville, Athens, Ohio to Ruth Louise Morris Blimes and Bill Blimes, Sr. in 1943. My dad joined the Navy and was away in the South Pacific fighting for our freedom when I was born. Marilyn was at just the right age to be a babysitter when my Mom needed one. Marilyn and I kind of grew up together and developed a special bond.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWjc7fjp30gIh-R7yFZ96tU81qJ8Ofn5qnmzZ10xdKZQQHfERczsfPzhMPBwg2UT4zy5830X_5CD3IUYFVHTvVAsW7VdZUPcA2n_I505xCPhuvJflv4QJHho0pw_KBCMJi2SQl7qXBQ9cc/s1600/Marilyn+Carter+in+Box.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWjc7fjp30gIh-R7yFZ96tU81qJ8Ofn5qnmzZ10xdKZQQHfERczsfPzhMPBwg2UT4zy5830X_5CD3IUYFVHTvVAsW7VdZUPcA2n_I505xCPhuvJflv4QJHho0pw_KBCMJi2SQl7qXBQ9cc/s200/Marilyn+Carter+in+Box.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Back to the movie at the Majestic. The movie was North By Northwest, a suspense film directed by Alfred Hitchcock, starring Cary Grant, Eva Marie Saint and James Mason. Now when I say it was a suspense film, if you have seen any Alfred Hitchcock movies, then you know that he is the Master of Suspense! <br />
A Madison Avenue advertising executive, Roger Thornhill (Cary Grant), is mistaken for a Mr. George Kaplan when he summons a hotel bellhop who is paging Kaplan, and is kidnapped by Valerian (Adam Williams) and Licht (Robert Ellenstein).<br />
Knowing that Kaplan has a reservation at a Chicago hotel the next day, Thornhill sneaks onto the 20th Century Limited train. On board, he meets Eve Kendall (Eva Marie Saint), who hides Thornhill from policemen searching the train.<br />
In an iconic sequence, Thornhill travels by bus to an isolated crossroads, with flat countryside all around and nobody in sight. A man finally arrives, but then takes the next bus. Before he leaves, the puzzled stranger observes that a biplane is "dusting crops where there ain't no crops." The plane soon flies towards Thornhill, and the pilot starts shooting at him.<br />
They fly to Rapid City, South Dakota, where Thornhill (now pretending to be Kaplan) meets Eve and Vandamm in a crowded cafeteria at the base of Mount Rushmore. Thornhill learns that the Tarascan statue contains secrets on microfilm.Vandamm decides to throw Eve out of the airplane when they are flying over water. Thornhill manages to warn her by writing a note inside one of his ROT matchbooks and dropping it where she can find it. <br />
On the way to the airplane, Eve grabs the statue and joins Thornhill. Leonard and Valerian chase them across the top of the Mount Rushmore monument. Valerian lunges at the pair, but falls to his death. Eve slips and clings desperately to the steep mountainside. Thornhill grabs her hand, while precariously holding on with his other hand. Leonard appears and treads on his hand. They are saved when the Professor has a police marksman shoot Leonard, who falls to his death, and Vandamm is arrested. <br />
That is the story in a nutshell. If you want to watch a film full of excitement, adventure and intrigue, get a copy of North By Northwest. <br />
Marilyn and I settled about half way down the theatre on the right side. As the plot developed and the excitement built, Marilyn began making little squeaking noises and reached over and gripped my hand. Half way through the movie she was shrieking and practically sitting on top of me. To say it was embarrassing would be an understatement. She kept saying “I have to leave, I’ve got to get out of here”. I would take her at her word and start to get up to leave- but she would grab me and pull me back into the seat and say, “No, I’ve got to stay to see what happens”. Then as the excitement would build she would start all over again. “I have to leave, I’ve got to get out of here”. I just wanted to get out of there but that was not to be. By the time we got to where Thornhill and Eve were scrambling over Mt. Rushmore and hanging off noses and eyelids, Marilyn was on the point of collapse. But we stayed for the whole thing and we have shared a lot of laughs about this together over the years. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWhgcMscYoRnmji32ymO5hNiyhGmRuRHeg9TjcdZqn76kXOVDdCxDbJ10yQRQeAVXgWfOzAbBmPeWZQeMRjqWKK96b_BY972tQVv0CB6rbjce5yjsO2xARRQpU8txjj3X8ZD85jM8Dn8ni/s1600/Marilyn+Frances+Morris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWhgcMscYoRnmji32ymO5hNiyhGmRuRHeg9TjcdZqn76kXOVDdCxDbJ10yQRQeAVXgWfOzAbBmPeWZQeMRjqWKK96b_BY972tQVv0CB6rbjce5yjsO2xARRQpU8txjj3X8ZD85jM8Dn8ni/s200/Marilyn+Frances+Morris.jpg" /></a></div>I have many other memories of my aunt Marilyn. Going roller skating with her was always exciting. No matter if we went skating up above Haydenville or down below Nelsonville there would be people there that knew Marilyn and they would start calling for her to do her “trick”. She was a beautiful, graceful skater and she loved to skate. Finally the calls from the other skates would get louder than the music and the owner or manager of the rink would shut off the music and tell her to get out on the floor. He would then put on a waltz style song and she would begin to skate. She was such a smooth skater and she would swoop and glide all over the huge wooden floor. Then she would skate by the manager and he would hand her a kitchen match as she glided by. She would put the match in her mouth and start skating in a big circle that got smaller and smaller. Then she would begin to crouch down lower and lower until she got her mouth down near the floor, suddenly she would touch the match to the floor and it would flare into flame. No matter how many times we saw her do this, it was always magical.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5X-NB5QeKqDdy0bvVT8H3fyXhh2AY2INaX50_eVspX3F43tECv40hklfWxBm6zL974GiUL3fq8VOwQ-q_M1pVpZxf1Mn5LJFL0gJDut1UYGeTCO17YPHMB9T3GtjBg-TMQyrNXPgGYDkr/s1600/Marilyn+F.+Morris+%2526+Ned+Darrell+Carter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:right; float:right; margin-left:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="200" width="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5X-NB5QeKqDdy0bvVT8H3fyXhh2AY2INaX50_eVspX3F43tECv40hklfWxBm6zL974GiUL3fq8VOwQ-q_M1pVpZxf1Mn5LJFL0gJDut1UYGeTCO17YPHMB9T3GtjBg-TMQyrNXPgGYDkr/s200/Marilyn+F.+Morris+%2526+Ned+Darrell+Carter.jpg" /></a></div>As we aged we stayed close. After I married, she and Sylvia became great friends too. She introduced me to a lifelong interest in birdwatching, square dancing and beachcombing on Manasota Beach, Florida. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdwOgVUilvcZ6HOo7vaIYkZHRqebmg3t8c8goYh9OT_h19McXCDx0n3eUWQBsHHxekkFi-jCK7f7iZsmVfl2Q0y5V8q3tNoBJxViiahdMojut4tCD2xhJq7i2MFXQkbldyeA3eRUEEYY3u/s1600/Nathan%252C+Marilyn%252C+Carolyn%252C+Bill%252C+Ginny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear:left; float:left;margin-right:1em; margin-bottom:1em"><img border="0" height="134" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdwOgVUilvcZ6HOo7vaIYkZHRqebmg3t8c8goYh9OT_h19McXCDx0n3eUWQBsHHxekkFi-jCK7f7iZsmVfl2Q0y5V8q3tNoBJxViiahdMojut4tCD2xhJq7i2MFXQkbldyeA3eRUEEYY3u/s200/Nathan%252C+Marilyn%252C+Carolyn%252C+Bill%252C+Ginny.jpg" /></a></div>One sad day while she was shopping near her Florida home, she suffered a stroke. Her niece, Margaret Morris Daut, found her sitting on a curb near her van. She didn’t know where she was or what had happened. She bounced back from this stroke pretty much the same old Marilyn that we all loved and enjoyed being with. Then a year or two later she had another stroke and this one was life changing for her and for all of us who loved her. She is now, living in a home where she is confined to a wheelchair most of the time. She doesn’t recognize many people including her own children. She does know that Ned is her husband but that is primarily because he goes over every day and helps her eat her meals. Her kids live in Ohio and come down to Florida as often as they are able. She will always be my splendiferous aunt Marilyn.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpN-4GV0X9C9sKra_y2sPlYIkdmlFvqOHEp_VFk8TXmmgn4IRFEsEoZ4HCVEo8N8gr18hVxPhGoroIYIsGwPX5F9mdaH7jXcoBY_2LSY2dqEX7XCkwN3arVLnKDcohTHF_iGKRY2PefxB_/s1600/Ned+%2526+Marilyn+Carter+with+Grandchildren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="164" width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpN-4GV0X9C9sKra_y2sPlYIkdmlFvqOHEp_VFk8TXmmgn4IRFEsEoZ4HCVEo8N8gr18hVxPhGoroIYIsGwPX5F9mdaH7jXcoBY_2LSY2dqEX7XCkwN3arVLnKDcohTHF_iGKRY2PefxB_/s200/Ned+%2526+Marilyn+Carter+with+Grandchildren.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-8053372016572210352011-08-28T14:13:00.001-07:002011-09-12T15:33:13.875-07:00Adele Capet, Princess of France<iframe src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=widgetsamazon-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=0071625348&fc1=000000&IS2=1<1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align:left;padding-top:5px;width:131px;height:245px;padding-right:10px;"align="left" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe> <br />
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRy8xOLXY8szhkuGUjLpOVfHbxBuMG2Q-j3PQgMmlMZ12eEufUGrHi_fzemI4oUcj4DXXFQSHmnTEiDvrvoTfyT6S794u5XWp7NZIHzbfXg5unvNZ0cMeqY_4WABsYDLfABP7XCCMR1wUs/s1600/Interior+of+main+chapel.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRy8xOLXY8szhkuGUjLpOVfHbxBuMG2Q-j3PQgMmlMZ12eEufUGrHi_fzemI4oUcj4DXXFQSHmnTEiDvrvoTfyT6S794u5XWp7NZIHzbfXg5unvNZ0cMeqY_4WABsYDLfABP7XCCMR1wUs/s200/Interior+of+main+chapel.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646356450498271090" /></a> <br />
In the summer of 2011 we were driving in Southern Belgium in the area known as Flanders where many battles had taken place in World War I. We were driving with no particular destination. We followed signs as we saw them to battlefields and allied gravesites. Sometimes we would see a large church steeple on the horizon and we would drive over and check it out. As we were driving north we noticed a lovely church sitting on a small hill and we decided to take a look. We drove off the motorway onto a small country road that lead us to the village of Mesen or Messines. The church was even larger than it looked from the motorway. We parked the car and got out to take a look. The outer door was not locked so we went into the small foyer but no matter how hard we pulled and pushed we could not get the inner door to open. We walked back outside and walked around the grounds and took several photos of the church. Off to one side was an information sign that told us this was the Church of Saint Nicholas and there was a crypt that contained the grave of Adele, Countess of Flanders. I was surprised, to say the least. I had read about Adele because she was an ancestor of mine. I knew she was buried in Belgium but I could not locate exactly where. I had learned that her husband, Baldwin V, Count of Flanders was buried in a crypt in Lille, France. We had gone on a quest to find his grave and learned at the Office of Tourism in Lille that he was buried in a crypt that was located under the Palace of Justice in Lille. It seems there had been a church on the site but it had been destroyed in WW I and never rebuilt and the Palace of Justice was later built on the site. The crypt was accessible but was not open to the public. We had been disappointed but we carried on. Now we had stumbled on the site of his wife’s grave but couldn’t get into the church to see it. About that time a jogger came by and went up the steps to the church, went into the foyer and did not come out. I told Sylvia what I had seen so we went in again and this time when we pulled on the door into the Church it came open. The jogger left as we went in and we were left alone in the Church. Sylvia began taking photos and I wandered about. Sylvia was in a side chapel on the left and I went into one on the right. As I was looking at the wall hangings and the Alter I saw a door with the word crypt lettered at the top of the door way. The door was open and I could see a stairway going down into the basement of the church. Wow! Was I excited! <br />
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuXUhrrbtiFi13nHbkvYDATKRTiDJ00tFj_uYJOlrszQ10ioDVJwscXSC-8p0EuYMyCPTgH9y09dOpe5Syv4wDGOE6xUQQK3sPAHwN4IKO1QuU-PyX0_bRfl0ukP6xoope64-sSvUlnUH/s1600/Entrance+to+Crypt.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTuXUhrrbtiFi13nHbkvYDATKRTiDJ00tFj_uYJOlrszQ10ioDVJwscXSC-8p0EuYMyCPTgH9y09dOpe5Syv4wDGOE6xUQQK3sPAHwN4IKO1QuU-PyX0_bRfl0ukP6xoope64-sSvUlnUH/s200/Entrance+to+Crypt.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646357198253390242" /></a> <br />
I called out to Sylvia and she joined me and we discussed whether we should go down or not. The lights had come on as I walked up to the door so we decided to go see what was there. I was surprised that Sylvia was going down into the crypt and that she was leading the way. For several years she has suffered from claustrophobia and has avoided small enclosed spaces. <br />
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXhaOLBiITzcw55raQ5yY7x5M0KquhhhTEe1akc_EvKE-bPXk30IHVj7rNNNJ4bg9NhrT2lApVLiqDrTo1ubjy7GCmmfkLMQ5QiQT95uQVQ4g15GVzWB28GuyCYhlk5BiVYmWfkRFK9yH/s1600/Lower+entrance+to+Crypt.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigXhaOLBiITzcw55raQ5yY7x5M0KquhhhTEe1akc_EvKE-bPXk30IHVj7rNNNJ4bg9NhrT2lApVLiqDrTo1ubjy7GCmmfkLMQ5QiQT95uQVQ4g15GVzWB28GuyCYhlk5BiVYmWfkRFK9yH/s200/Lower+entrance+to+Crypt.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646356779662084898" /></a> <br />
But here we went - down several flights of stairs. The deeper we went the more odoriferous it became. It was a damp, rotten smell. We reached the bottom and went into the crypt itself and there in the center of the floor was Adele’s grave. There were statues located around the space and some pieces of stonework that were probably from the original church that had stood on the spot and then been destroyed during WW I. <br />
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVKPcnUMrfXjUk_D_o_CSr6mE12yRGVbCr45nr82gVu9Dph1JqhSxzKjxr3MRtc4xtg0BOFXK__36HH8-e8Jq2CwKKCdFYSjD3-QZV3W_ldJC7r4g1-T7q4v-ZvGnCW_sN5SrriazwPPva/s1600/Crypt+Interior.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVKPcnUMrfXjUk_D_o_CSr6mE12yRGVbCr45nr82gVu9Dph1JqhSxzKjxr3MRtc4xtg0BOFXK__36HH8-e8Jq2CwKKCdFYSjD3-QZV3W_ldJC7r4g1-T7q4v-ZvGnCW_sN5SrriazwPPva/s200/Crypt+Interior.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646357742374063250" /></a> <br />
I could hardly take it in. I was standing on a site that dated back to the eleventh century. Adele had died and been buried here in 1079. We talked in amazement at how serendipity had brought us here to this place. After some time had passed and Sylvia had taken a bunch of photos we turned to retrace our steps up the stairway. <br />
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncj0HdNDxcQnf7ZAjvXFuA0SOQr2AviIXxSfJVjAulWQpkg5fVyCC1D6Nw3xBDF5D2QM7ZfmUTREl6swB3NhwXtzp_wKowMIvM3H7Eno_hThp1bVJRbRdTuEpjiUtZGQgtB2Q6ZV9qW38/s1600/Countess+Adele%2527s+Grave.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjncj0HdNDxcQnf7ZAjvXFuA0SOQr2AviIXxSfJVjAulWQpkg5fVyCC1D6Nw3xBDF5D2QM7ZfmUTREl6swB3NhwXtzp_wKowMIvM3H7Eno_hThp1bVJRbRdTuEpjiUtZGQgtB2Q6ZV9qW38/s200/Countess+Adele%2527s+Grave.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646357464095540946" /></a> <br />
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Just as we turned to go into the hallway that lead to the base of the steps, the lights went out! It is surprising the number of thoughts that can go through your mind in a short space of time. I immediately thought “we are all alone in this church, no one knows we are here; I can find the steps and we can make our way up to the top but what if the door is locked; oh, yes, the lights are on motion detectors and we have been here so long they just went off because we had stood still for so long” and sure enough when I moved towards the steps, the lights came back on. What a relief. And what an awesome experience. <br />
Here is some information I have found about Adele and the Saint Nicholas Church: <br />
Adela Capet, Adèle of France, Adela of Flanders, Adela the Holy or Adela of Messines is one of my 28th great grandmothers. She was born in 1009 in Nevers, Nivre Department, Burgundy Region, France and died 8 Jan 1079 in Messines Benedictine Monastery, Messines (Mesen), West Flanders, Belgium. She was the second daughter of Robert, the Pious and Constance of Arles the King and Queen of France. As dowry to her future husband, she received from her father the title of Countess of Corbie. She was betrothed to her future husband at a very young age, in fact, she was carried to the betrothal ceremony in her baby bed. In 1028 at the age of 19 she was married to Baldwin V of Flanders (1012 † 1067) in Amiens. Their children were: <br />
Baldwin VI of Flanders , (1030 † 1070) <br />
Matilda of Flanders (1032 † 1083). In 1053 she married William Duke of Normandy , the future king of England <br />
Robert I of Flanders , (1033-1093) <br />
Henry of Flanders (c. 1035) <br />
Sir Richard of Flanders (c. 1050-1105) <br />
Adèle's political influence lay mainly in her family connections. On the death of her brother, Henry I of France, the guardianship of his seven-year-old son Philip I fell jointly on his widow, Ann of Kiev , and on his brother-in-law, Adela's husband, so that from 1060 to 1067, they were Regents of France. <br />
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErzXA-GrMnnZvYLr_T_gDTX3TcZu8ZsaGaz0rTRwszWuCcXkPhyphenhyphenuvCWZAUdJQawXvaEt1vQ4z8KRpT74hcsB3wY9Qyg6G3faxYDR7YTstxPiK2ecot2MgqUUg4zvKJNXXoNV7H3eghygk/s1600/Close+up+of+Church.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErzXA-GrMnnZvYLr_T_gDTX3TcZu8ZsaGaz0rTRwszWuCcXkPhyphenhyphenuvCWZAUdJQawXvaEt1vQ4z8KRpT74hcsB3wY9Qyg6G3faxYDR7YTstxPiK2ecot2MgqUUg4zvKJNXXoNV7H3eghygk/s200/Close+up+of+Church.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646360514526840642" /></a> <br />
Adèle had an especially great interest in Baldwin V’s church-reform politics and was behind her husband’s founding of several collegiate churches. Directly or indirectly, she was responsible for establishing the Colleges of Aire (1049), Lille (1050) and Harelbeke (1064) as well as the abbeys of Messines (1057) and Ename (1063). In 1057, Countess Adèle founded a Benedictine abbey for noble ladies. The abbey was transformed into a royal Institute by Empress Maria-Theresa (1745-1780) in 1776. After Baldwin’s death in 1067, she went to Rome, took the nun’s veil from the hands of Pope Alexander II and retreated to the Benedictine convent of Messines. There she died, being buried at the same monastery. Her commemoration day is 8 September. <br />
Like the village of Mesen, the abbey was completely destroyed during the First World War. The crypt, located under the choir of the St. Nicholas abbey-church, was used as headquarters by the German staff, and has been preserved, as well as Adèle's grave. The church was rebuilt in 1928 exactly as it was before the war. It is lit by a big brass chandelier and wall lights made and donated to the church by Otto Meyer, a German veteran of the battle of Mesen. <br />
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkYmhugmgHQKhS-XfxmQzeH2SO2122mhaWDMtxqE-0XsC5heFj3DQez2P0bWF-HWFhZlGLxJkeyznwPk3YULCuTaytEUMRSnSCakxrMo8WwCTR-3kdSe237AwcDzpAAm194EBagBD8OAtp/s1600/Description+of+Church+History.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkYmhugmgHQKhS-XfxmQzeH2SO2122mhaWDMtxqE-0XsC5heFj3DQez2P0bWF-HWFhZlGLxJkeyznwPk3YULCuTaytEUMRSnSCakxrMo8WwCTR-3kdSe237AwcDzpAAm194EBagBD8OAtp/s200/Description+of+Church+History.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5646358722969719442" /></a> <br />
<br />
Saint Nicholas Church (Mesen) <br />
Originally the Benedictine abbey church of Our Lady leaning property and other abbey buildings. <br />
After the abolition of the abbey in 1176 elevated to parish. <br />
The church, with its domed tower, can be seen from miles away. The building was restored to its pre-war state in 1928. This church originally served as an abbey church for the convent of Saint Benedict and was erected by countess Adela of France. The church is adorned with a magnificent chandelier (1,94 metres wide) in yellow copper and many wall lights, designed for and given to the church by Otto Meyer, a German veteran who survived the battle of Messines. <br />
The Crypt <br />
This 11th century roman crypt is the only monument in Messines that is officially classified and protected. Countess Adela was buried here on 8th January 1079. She was the daughter of the French King Robert the Pious, wife of Baldwin V (Count of Flanders), mother of the English Queen Mathilda and thus "ancestress" of the British Royal Family. The crypt, where the Germans installed their headquarters, was restored in 1931 in its original state after the devastations of World War I. <br />
The Peace Carillon <br />
The carillon in the church tower has 59 bells. The first bell of peace (weighs more than 280 pounds) was inaugurated on 17th May 1985 in Ypres by Pope John Paul II. The carillon can be heard every 15 minutes, ringing out hymns from the nations that took part in World War I.Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-3709207167357075612011-08-24T15:07:00.000-07:002011-08-28T17:20:43.214-07:00Bill Blimes Sr.'s Story as Written by him (My Dad)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ebi6uHnxJ54IiPnQEKKYQN6eyuxWZfdU4R_oManrATNLwIWrYpG2tT2cpimYJR26iWt3Rx68ATl7D-1i5zAybblLRA0yqweHobPRkyxvucAfJkfGyRpY-Na0aZ2P7jCTOgIU3onRbeuB/s1600/Grandpa+and+Grandma+Blimes.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 148px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_ebi6uHnxJ54IiPnQEKKYQN6eyuxWZfdU4R_oManrATNLwIWrYpG2tT2cpimYJR26iWt3Rx68ATl7D-1i5zAybblLRA0yqweHobPRkyxvucAfJkfGyRpY-Na0aZ2P7jCTOgIU3onRbeuB/s200/Grandpa+and+Grandma+Blimes.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644576902305184946" /></a>
<br /> In this picture-Harry Blimes & Mearl Edna Tolliver, parents of Bill Blimes Sr.
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<br />I was born 21 or 22 of November, 1921. The notation on the original birth certificate said midnight. My father always claimed one day and my mother the other.
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<br />My father was hurt in a coal mine in 1925. He was in the hospital for a year and was a semi-invalid after this. He was caught in a cave-in when shoring timbers gave way. He was lucky to get out alive.
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<br />At the time of my birth, my mother had been a member of the Church (of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints) for about eight years. Even though I was born into the church, so to speak, I never had any contact with the church, only through the missionaries who would come through our area once a year. They would stay for a few days or a few weeks and then be on their way to contact other members scattered through the area. My father never became a member of the church, but he was the most loving and generous man I've ever known. He really cared about people.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00gp9bvHRspENReyywpzr2uWIrDi_cx3hF7tD-Frc4xxbUh2PyudoiKqps0qNoX85wxWyyRXf0VnctgMCGPaI2ZJfqy67_aTv20yyMSkaAjW5Aw68Z5aPJyHsUDZ4QmGYYTpx3tCTg9zo/s1600/Tolliver+Baptisms-29+Nov+1917.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi00gp9bvHRspENReyywpzr2uWIrDi_cx3hF7tD-Frc4xxbUh2PyudoiKqps0qNoX85wxWyyRXf0VnctgMCGPaI2ZJfqy67_aTv20yyMSkaAjW5Aw68Z5aPJyHsUDZ4QmGYYTpx3tCTg9zo/s200/Tolliver+Baptisms-29+Nov+1917.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644577115546831762" /></a>
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<br />I had a happy, carefree childhood, with strict parents, but they always demonstrated to me a parental love that let me know their requirements for obedience was always for my best interests.
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<br />I can remember from my earliest days of looking forward to the visits of the missionaries, as they would come to our little home, without purse or script and hold church services in our home for a few days and then move on. This was always a high point in the year for the whole family, including my father, who was not a member of the church. I've often thought about this, and I've come to the conclusion that the reason he was never baptized is that no one ever asked him.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09sNUVvLMU6WlMBJrIaVMY6qNIKpbHztcqhHLX1vEMCGf7jLuM-TVVDuDIzZp58MoorKkyB2W0kKpwsELRcm6fIGL-L-qKEfw-sYziXaOYXKzTOB_pXMEJbsu6QUYvShIGkUx8eqlrghu/s1600/Back+Mary%252C+George%252C+Todd%252C+Front+Bill+%2526+June.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 117px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg09sNUVvLMU6WlMBJrIaVMY6qNIKpbHztcqhHLX1vEMCGf7jLuM-TVVDuDIzZp58MoorKkyB2W0kKpwsELRcm6fIGL-L-qKEfw-sYziXaOYXKzTOB_pXMEJbsu6QUYvShIGkUx8eqlrghu/s200/Back+Mary%252C+George%252C+Todd%252C+Front+Bill+%2526+June.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644577417605899522" /></a>
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<br />My childhood years moved along without any real sickness or tragedy or any remarkable events, until my eighth year. I was told that I would be baptized on this birthday. That was a pretty big word for me so I immediately rebelled. So my mother always said that I was baptized when I was 8 years and 2 days old. It took the missionaries 2 days to catch me. But they got the job done. I was baptized in the Hocking River when it was at flood stage, muddy and full of debris. I was confirmed there on the river bank and had the gift of the Holy Ghost bestowed upon me. However, I don't think it really "took" until many years later.
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<br />As I look back, the years passed swiftly, but happily. We still had very little contact with the church, until some years later. I can remember in my teen years, my grandfather and I would sit in the porch swing and he would always tell me about how he was going to run me for sheriff of Athens County when I grew up. Unfortunately he passed away before I was out of my teens, or else I would probably still be sheriff today.
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<br />As the years passed along, I entered school, liked it sometimes and rejected it at others. However, learning came easy for me and in later years I was sorry I hadn't pushed myself a little to become something more than I did. In my 5th year I received the gift of the book, "Little Men: for finishing the years spelling in a little over half the year. I was always tops in spelling bees.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWY3xt_zT_pK69TrlpdVPUz6EZrzxfaVs3iz8vJPC0BCsOGlh388lo4G5YXtG8VKsh249vb9nCV35-AJf2xIoNe5ZG1kDPiPBwSIdLlN943yFIWI0OStiLuadNZF-lasNX2DDJnNpeb9uK/s1600/Little+Men.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWY3xt_zT_pK69TrlpdVPUz6EZrzxfaVs3iz8vJPC0BCsOGlh388lo4G5YXtG8VKsh249vb9nCV35-AJf2xIoNe5ZG1kDPiPBwSIdLlN943yFIWI0OStiLuadNZF-lasNX2DDJnNpeb9uK/s200/Little+Men.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644578185818180578" /></a>
<br />On into High School, I played football, basketball, and baseball on the Nelsonville High School team. I was captain of the football team in my Senior year. I played the position of center on offense and linebacker on defense. I loved football and played all four years of high school. I didn't think I would like basketball, so didn't try for it in my freshman year. However, I did in my sophomore year and made the team. In the three years I played basketball in high school there was only one game I didn't start and that was a pushover on a Friday night and we had to play again on the next night on Saturday. I was proud of this.
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<br />While playing football, I had my left elbow broken on the first play of the game, and played the rest of the game with it this way. It hurt so bad that I had to rest it on my kidney pads and play with only one hand and arm. After the game was over, the doctor put my arm in a cast and it was on there for six weeks. On the day the cast was removed, Friday, the day of the last football game of the season, I played the entire game, both offense and defense. Some stupid trick; I'l suffer for it the rest of my life. I think if I had it to do over again, I'd bypass high school sports. I have too many mementos; crooked elbow, trick knee and crooked fingers and all sorts of aches and pains.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDQ8wD18QvmpimGjZnPTU9dJ1zPZLQUDKYkpfHEcFKjeDarU7aR7Brkdowjx2i84MLa8RB1jAZCG3jC34xFRqxZj8Silo2uZH0FZzgYl_uVdk8LMwCllLEeidedPsGDk68aBMhEbIPyIrY/s1600/Nelsonville+High+School.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDQ8wD18QvmpimGjZnPTU9dJ1zPZLQUDKYkpfHEcFKjeDarU7aR7Brkdowjx2i84MLa8RB1jAZCG3jC34xFRqxZj8Silo2uZH0FZzgYl_uVdk8LMwCllLEeidedPsGDk68aBMhEbIPyIrY/s200/Nelsonville+High+School.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644578457240896834" /></a>
<br />I graduated from high school in the 1938-1939 class along with 70 other seniors. Still in the throes of the great depression, no jobs were to be had.
<br />I worked a couple of days for the Township (50 cents an hour) and the money went to help put food on the table.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs-qOym4ZMYmn0eJsrhXpJ0803Ft1I4ZnUyi1GNqt8UBhYFpnW_V1LWxPsFziIhuo_iWg8ER9wOHUh7Ccjvcl2qdcE2ZQr1VEP7ryU52jrPnhPqWfK4cF2ob6UVmr5_rWsIW2salwq0cyi/s1600/Bill+Senior.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs-qOym4ZMYmn0eJsrhXpJ0803Ft1I4ZnUyi1GNqt8UBhYFpnW_V1LWxPsFziIhuo_iWg8ER9wOHUh7Ccjvcl2qdcE2ZQr1VEP7ryU52jrPnhPqWfK4cF2ob6UVmr5_rWsIW2salwq0cyi/s200/Bill+Senior.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644578725660413234" /></a>
<br />Two months after I was out of high school, 17 years of age, I boarded a train in Athens, Ohio as a member of the CCC and headed for Darby, Montana. I had never been away from home overnight before this time. I had been raised in a home where there were few of the luxuries of life, but lots of love and family togetherness. I was very homesick for a while, but threw myself into the work of the Forest Service and managed to survive through the first few weeks.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwfEeLew2fVGmADO_KphwFf2WRw_Ci0Yzzjb3B6Awj8G_CpspznvtRDzlcOvQhaRID1Kcumcwzha-Se90kkWUF3lc8M99vQtjjblQSoiA4anYlzG8LL_G9e_j2WMUpgHbeLUVoEU3LPzZO/s1600/CCC.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 177px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwfEeLew2fVGmADO_KphwFf2WRw_Ci0Yzzjb3B6Awj8G_CpspznvtRDzlcOvQhaRID1Kcumcwzha-Se90kkWUF3lc8M99vQtjjblQSoiA4anYlzG8LL_G9e_j2WMUpgHbeLUVoEU3LPzZO/s200/CCC.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644578955941027218" /></a>
<br />Fighting forest fires, cutting huge trees, splitting wood, building log cabins, irrigation ditches, ski slopes and not least of all, packing in 18-25 miles, hiking day and night to reach a forest fire, to bring under control so we could save the countries forests. This was the sort of life I lived for the time I was in Montana; bedding down in a sleeping bag on a mountainside and going without a change of clothing for as long as two weeks at a time. But it was a good, healthy life and I've never regretted the year I spent in the CCC Camps.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5v8QYY9Yh9tIVXYcnsEEgsCFrb6XyhJSgd-3mxjrWByCENboSfj5Myu2xU_f4-Q3YoOd7ufkQN3UYpXsfkJp0M20c5iJyaRzPwvc0RgeqVLNaJoBovt5g4Szf6BReKjLB939jIvO1MZTg/s1600/Ruth+Louise+Morris+2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 86px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5v8QYY9Yh9tIVXYcnsEEgsCFrb6XyhJSgd-3mxjrWByCENboSfj5Myu2xU_f4-Q3YoOd7ufkQN3UYpXsfkJp0M20c5iJyaRzPwvc0RgeqVLNaJoBovt5g4Szf6BReKjLB939jIvO1MZTg/s200/Ruth+Louise+Morris+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644579238645179906" /></a>
<br />I returned home from Montana to find that there were still no jobs to be had, so I decided to once again try the 3 C's. I signed up, knowing what I was getting into this time and was scheduled to go to Idaho this time. But something wonderful happened. While waiting for my orders for transportation west, I decided to go roller skating. While there I had a collision with the person who turned out to be my partner through life. Not withstanding the fact that she knocked out two fillings from my teeth and gave me various other pains and bruises, this was the turning point of my life. We began dating and I decided to pull some strings and stay in the camp where I was at the time instead of going west. I accomplished this without too much trouble because they were badly in need of a 1st baseman on their ball team. Romance blossomed in my life and in the next few months, Ruth and I saw an awful lot of each other. We decided we would get married on her 18th birthday, but I begged off from this date because there was no way I could afford a wife. Jobs were still scarce and not to be had. I was still in the 3C camp when my uncle became general manager of Bendix Aviation Corp in Wayne, Michigan. He offered me a job testing aircraft carburetors, and with that offer, I was able to get an honorable discharge from the 3C's. I went to Michigan to take this job, along with my brother, Harry, and with this action I became an independent, employed citizen with my future assured, so I thought.
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<br />It was while I was working in Wayne, Michigan that I was married to my life's companion. The event took place on Friday evening at 9:00 P.M. in the home of Rev. Morris in St. Clair Shores, Michigan, May 16, 1942. Cliff and Mary Lewis, uncle and aunt of my wife, stood up with us and signed as witnesses. After the ceremony, we each called our parents and informed them. I remember my mother telling us that we were too young to marry (Ruth was 19 and I was 20. I hoped that she was proven wrong.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTBoNY4mBzq1RIIfvHXAVp6FLS9uri8rL6x7tCLgVj9DAftCELh32EL03hkmbXR5U77Wa27_sS7dAaqOT1Lj-RJSeWqfek3oozW4yIOqnat-pLZXk0g3PBE2S5mhjVIvaMqc4_CD9oByrZ/s1600/Ruth+Louise+Morris.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTBoNY4mBzq1RIIfvHXAVp6FLS9uri8rL6x7tCLgVj9DAftCELh32EL03hkmbXR5U77Wa27_sS7dAaqOT1Lj-RJSeWqfek3oozW4yIOqnat-pLZXk0g3PBE2S5mhjVIvaMqc4_CD9oByrZ/s200/Ruth+Louise+Morris.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644579507406480754" /></a>
<br />Just a few months after I was married, on Dec 7, 1941, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. I was at work, when the news came and little did I know at this time the extent of what my involvement would be. Pres. Roosevelt immediately declared war on the Nation of Japan and while he was at it
<br />he also declared war on Germany, Italy and all of their allies. I wanted to be in the conflict, but was torn between two loyalties; a pregnant wife and my country. Ruth cried when I informed her that I was going to enlist in the Navy, but this only deterred me for a short time. On Sept 9, 1942, I took the oath of allegiance to the United States of America and officially became a member of the United States Navy. I took this oath of allegiance on Central Square in Cincinnati, Ohio along with about 200 other young men, all eager to fight. I was transported via railroad to Chicago, where I spent 31 days in Boot Camp learning, I'm sure, regimentation. At the end of this period I was sent to Electrical School at Purdue University in Lafayette, Indiana.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg83VlK6uFl9Efr_EKeHimVgpEFymxkUKATsdCAKOryT6LAePreEVorCbpzpNFfEMQKpG5HFUwcxA5KKWfC_88FQ6xQqPMClisf8XrELrbX236kpH6CGrsrBMlSxaX-TlAKs8y6v7NWD5cy/s1600/Bill+Sr.+Navy.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 162px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg83VlK6uFl9Efr_EKeHimVgpEFymxkUKATsdCAKOryT6LAePreEVorCbpzpNFfEMQKpG5HFUwcxA5KKWfC_88FQ6xQqPMClisf8XrELrbX236kpH6CGrsrBMlSxaX-TlAKs8y6v7NWD5cy/s200/Bill+Sr.+Navy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644579775643920978" /></a>
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1jcQCG9cT36CuqC6a2sbSELgCuZwEEz5xQrwcOzLgjE-asKgdB0hpO1rZoo_puIXCPN2aYC8P9mZBcvcgchrSGKD-mIFuF14u50US0qzpH9zxwH_huQwbV58IFvZGg_LEfAV6OsQob3s/s1600/USS_Portunus_%2528ARC-1%2529.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 124px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu1jcQCG9cT36CuqC6a2sbSELgCuZwEEz5xQrwcOzLgjE-asKgdB0hpO1rZoo_puIXCPN2aYC8P9mZBcvcgchrSGKD-mIFuF14u50US0qzpH9zxwH_huQwbV58IFvZGg_LEfAV6OsQob3s/s200/USS_Portunus_%2528ARC-1%2529.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644580029039123218" /></a>
<br />After 16 weeks of intensive schooling, I received the rating of Electricians Mate 3/C Petty Officer and was assigned to the U.S.S. Portunus, a P.T. Boat tender and repair ship. We carried the depth charges, high octane gasoline and torpedoes for the P.T. boats. We were a floating bomb hunting a place to go off. I stayed on this ship until the 5 Sullivan Brothers were lost on one ship. After this event, a directive came out saying that brothers could no longer be assigned to the same ship. As my brother, Harry and I were both on the Portunus, one of us had to go. I was picked as the one to be transferred, so shortly thereafter, I found myself at the Naval Receiving Station in Brisbane, Australia awaiting re-assignment. This came immediately. I, along with four others, was taken to the Hotel Darby in downtown Brisbane and billeted on the 3rd floor of the hotel. This was to by my home for the next 8 months. I was assigned to be one of Admiral Thomas C. Kinkaid's body guards, with a 45 automatic strapped on my hip. This was not a happy time in my life. I was lonely, homesick and had a useless feeling because this was not what I joined up to do. I stood it for as long as I could and one day I walked into Commander Burwells' office and asked for a transfer back to sea. My request was granted and I headed back to the USA on a Dutch luxury liner which was being used by our Navy to transport personnel back and forth across the Pacific Ocean. After 30 days leave at home, I reported to Little Creek, Virginia for Mine Warfare training.
<br />After completing this, I went to an advanced Mine Warfare school and at the end of this time, I was assigned to duty on the U.S.S. Hambleton, DD 455. After removal of gun turret #4 and installing special mine sweeping gear, we became High Speed Mine Sweeper # DMS 20 and joined with 14 other destroyers to make a pack of 15 high speed.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvvgY8rzA6abPp7fHCwMdI1HBDI1WzNVYoN7L0E2zJ5XWNru8zOrcxYYnfHeWH25fEyPyLAuHTuODrl0_Q58ElfYHZKwMp4qxv7xqYjfiAKv3YPG_X3MrvbnjsVlBPDyJYSfMNHk5r8vqW/s1600/USS_HAMBLETON.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 101px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvvgY8rzA6abPp7fHCwMdI1HBDI1WzNVYoN7L0E2zJ5XWNru8zOrcxYYnfHeWH25fEyPyLAuHTuODrl0_Q58ElfYHZKwMp4qxv7xqYjfiAKv3YPG_X3MrvbnjsVlBPDyJYSfMNHk5r8vqW/s200/USS_HAMBLETON.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644580331095548738" /></a>
<br />I was the Mine Warfare Specialist on our ship and was treated pretty good until I taught the executive officer and a couple of others some of my trade. After this, they became the specialists and I became the peon. Such is life! Duty on this ship lasted until after the end of WW II. I had some good experiences on board, but the bad far out weighed the good, that I do not choose to remember much of the time I spent on the U.S.S. Hambleton. War to me is hell on earth. A person should never have to be subjected to this kind of experience. The thing that stands out most in my mind is the four times our ship was relieved from anti-aircraft screen, the relieving ship each time was sunk within a half hour after having relieved us. What is the answer for this? I don't claim to know.
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<br />The war finally came to an end and soon after I was headed for home. What a happy day this was, when we finally found a ride from Okinawa to Seattle, Washington. This came after three weeks of living in the rainstorms and mud on Okinawa. This was a taste of the kind of life the GI's had throughout the war. I was certainly glad that I had been in the Navy. A clean bunk every night, regular chow, clean clothing; the things that really count when it comes to comfort and well being.
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<br />Finally I was discharged and arrived home Nov 19, 1945, 2 days before my 24th birthday. Three years taken from my life and nothing to show for them but an unsettled mind. I could not really adjust to civilian and married life right away and had no desire to go back to work. I moved in with my in-laws with my wife and child (a young son also named Bill) and just drifted aimlessly for a few months. I began to come out of it in the spring of 1946 and let my father talk me into buying half interest in a small restaurant. My brother was my partner. It didn't take me long to realize that this wasn't my niche in life, but it did serve a purpose, it put me back into a frame of mind to go to work again. After a year and a half of restaurant life I quit and went to work for a small appliance dealer and electrical contractor as an electrician. I had worked for him almost two years when television first came out, and began selling in goodly numbers. I decided that this would be a good field to get into, so once again I quit my job. This time it was two weeks before Christmas. It was a slim Christmas for us on Dec 25, 1949. I enrolled under the GI Bill at Franklin University in Columbus, Ohio and started to school early in January of 1950. I graduated from Franklin University and already had a job in Towson, Maryland with Radio Division of Bendix Aviation. I stayed in Maryland on this job for almost a year, but it was too far from home for my wife. We had to make too many trips back to Ohio. So once again in December, I quit my job on a Friday and started to work the following week with North American Aviation Corporation in Columbus, Ohio. This was December 12, 1951. For the next 10 years I spent at N.A.A. Finally, it was here that I really began to be introduced to the church once again. I have to admit that I was not too interested, but I made friends that have lasted throughout the years. I gained a good reputation at N.A.A. for being able to get things done properly. I was chosen to be the Electrical Leadman in charge of all electric circuitry and operations on the first airplanes on the FJ-2, FJ-3, FJ-4, T1J Trainer, F-100 and the exotic C5A, supersonic aircraft, with auto pilot and the first one with an inertial navigation system. Ten happy and luxurious years with this company and once again I was looking around for greener pastures. I took a day off from work and went to Newark, Ohio to check into a job that was going to open up there. It was with the United States Air Force and it was in the field of inertial navigation systems for missiles. This really sounded interesting. It was not only a new field, but also another source of income after retirement time. And I could count the 3 years and 2 months I'd served in the Navy toward this retirement. This really sounded good to me.
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<br />I was accepted for employment by the Air Force and reported for work June of 1961. I was assigned to the Titan Missile program and was told I would receive schooling in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I looked forward to this very much. The time finally came for me to go to Wisconsin, so three of us pooled our funds and purchased a house trailer to live in up there so we could save money.
<br />When school was out in Newark, my wife and family (4 children by now) came up to join me. Something happened to me, however, that changed my entire life.
<br />This happened shortly before I left N.A.A.
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<br />I had drank and smoked for years. I drank beer because I really liked it. But I had been attending church once in a while, and I was beginning to feel that maybe there was something to it after all. It was New Years Eve, all the family was in bed but me, and I sat all night thinking and pondering the values and priorities that I was placing first in my life. I came to the conclusion that I had things all backwards, so I decided to do something about it. I committed myself to quit smoking and drinking and to become active in the church and see what the Lord had in store for me. Again, I thought about the times that my life had probably been spared, when I had been in the Navy and other men had died in the places I had just left. I thought that maybe I had been spared for something better than I was allowing myself to receive.
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<br />I never smoked or drank after that night. I've heard of the great difficulty that some people have in stopping these vices, but I had no trouble at all. My desire to partake of them left me, when I made my commitment to seek after a better way of life. From that time to this my life has been one church job after another and I've loved all of them.
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<br />But back to Milwaukee, we attended church in a small Branch in Racine while we were there. They made us feel at home as they accepted us into their family. The stay in Milwaukee was happy as well as profitable.
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<br />Back to Newark and settling into a routine of work and church. I was called into the Stake High Council immediately after my return. I served almost 5 years in the position with President James L. Mortensen as Stake President and following him President Ralph M. Johnson. Also served under President H. Clay Gorton for awhile and then was released to become Branch President of the Newark Branch for the 2nd time. While serving as Branch President, I was called to be the first Bishop as the Newark Branch became the Newark Ward. This was a great honor and blessing.
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<br />I was sent to California because of my job and due to the length of time I was to be gone, I was released from the office of Bishop before I left Newark.
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<br />My wife and youngest son, Mark, went with me this time, as the other children were off on their own interests. This was like a paid vacation because I received expense money while there. I worked at night and that left me pretty much free to sight see in the daylight hours. It made for an enjoyable visit to California.
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<br />When I returned to Newark I worked on the Guidance System for the Minuteman Missile. Although it has been updated, I am still in the same position today, calibrating and testing the guidance system for the Minuteman III Missile.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCzCxEmqZ34kDG9iYkid2RSUYNhNfDJEyNX-viklITLx6I-_xBBHJeeML8LTxZ2VQuwJwo0lESPrvsdfEJplCNXOtjsYOhyphenhyphenRsVgdGEAZE6R9uTP73szKxIScigcpsm-7WyTO2GUoWOH4Q/s1600/Canoe+Merit+Badge.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 155px; height: 160px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCzCxEmqZ34kDG9iYkid2RSUYNhNfDJEyNX-viklITLx6I-_xBBHJeeML8LTxZ2VQuwJwo0lESPrvsdfEJplCNXOtjsYOhyphenhyphenRsVgdGEAZE6R9uTP73szKxIScigcpsm-7WyTO2GUoWOH4Q/s200/Canoe+Merit+Badge.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644581413608963298" /></a>
<br />I served as Scout Master in the Ward after I returned from California and this was a position that I really felt I was suited for. I had the privilege of taking some of my scouts on a ten day camping and 50 mile canoe trip in Minnesota. This trip we really roughed it. What beautiful country there is in Minnesota? How I would love to live there.
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<br />One morning on January 12 I had a heart attack and was confined to the hospital for awhile and this kind of slowed me down. I was released as Scout Master in the Ward and for the first time for many years, I was without a job in the church. What a desolate feeling this is. After having been wrapped up in other peoples lives and cares for so long, to suddenly be cast aside. My testimony wavered a little, and then I was called to be a counselor to the Sunday School President. Happy day, I'm needed again. But just a couple of months here and I'm released and called as teacher of the Gospel Doctrine Class. I've always wanted to be a Sunday School teacher so I accept this very gratefully. I had just begun to get my teeth into this teaching job when I am released again.
<br />This time I'm not called to another job. I feel as if I'm only being used as a stopgap until the Lord finds time to call the proper person to the job I'm in.
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<br />I'm called in and asked if I would serve in the Sunday School Presidency again. Of course, I say yes. But again, in just a few weeks, again I'm released without another call. It was then that Sister Patty Paisola said something to me that made me much more able to go through these calls and releases. She said to me, "Bro Blimes, the Lord really must have something special in mind for you since he's giving you the experience in all these areas." I don't think she knew it, but these words were spoken to me at just the right time to cause me to pause and think that just maybe she was right and this gave me the strength and courage to continue on and wait patiently for the calling the Lord had in mind for me.
<br />Not too long after this, I was interviewed by a member of the Stake Presidency and called to be the High Priest Group Leader in the Ward. I don't know how other people feel about it, but I know that nobody could like to visit the Temple as much as I do. I love the work that this calling entails and I pray I might be able to in some way help the Ward membership. It is through Genealogy work and temple work that families are perpetuated throughout the eternities. I don't know yet if this is the calling that Sis Paisola was referring to, but I'm certainly enjoying it at this time.
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<br />Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-75121205203721887272011-08-24T15:05:00.000-07:002011-08-26T15:53:54.996-07:00DOWN ON THE FARM Part 3
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPOD_-RYRehREVyCv0JZobQWEj4Mo8udcX0bM5pYQP9nIBlxsqhKOQ3kYr97r1-7Orv0VE6TVRCsVA1HhL5ih3mSAzWrFSTwH6jxfRL0Cet8PKjPThPARtC8JSfiimQD1VYDbZW4l9gS7Q/s1600/Lynn+%2526+Rosie+Nadroski+and+Corky+Chadwell++Aug+1958.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPOD_-RYRehREVyCv0JZobQWEj4Mo8udcX0bM5pYQP9nIBlxsqhKOQ3kYr97r1-7Orv0VE6TVRCsVA1HhL5ih3mSAzWrFSTwH6jxfRL0Cet8PKjPThPARtC8JSfiimQD1VYDbZW4l9gS7Q/s200/Lynn+%2526+Rosie+Nadroski+and+Corky+Chadwell++Aug+1958.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644574940738678706" /></a>
<br />It was a great time and place to be a kid. I never felt at risk in any situation I was in. There was a big world out there and I wanted to discover all I could about it. Aunt Emma really encouraged me in this pursuit. Even today, at my age, I still am always looking for new and exciting places and experiences. Aunt Emma believed in encouraging kids to be what they wanted to be and to be comfortable in their own skin. If I wanted to catch a snapping turtle and kill it, clean it and cook it, she was right by my side helping me to do it. If I wanted to learn to sew, she would simply say, “What do you want to make?” When I wanted to have a party and invite my friends for a cook out, she was right there helping me make decorations and favors and planning the menu. One time I wanted to have a Luau and she came up with a way to take colored paper napkins, fold them, cut them and string them on thread to make leis.
<br />There were two large porches on Aunt Emma’s house, one on the front and one on the back. She had a chaise lounge that was on wheels and sometimes it would be on the front porch and sometimes on the back. She always had two or three cats and/or kittens around. On hot nights I would sleep out on the chaise lounge with a cat or two curled up with me. I would usually have a sheet or light blanket to pull over me as it often got cool by morning even on the hottest August nights. The sheet also served another purpose. It was a barrier against attacks of the killer mosquitoes. Boy, could those things bite and did they ever itch. One year Larry had a pup tent and we set it up in the side yard and we planned to sleep out in it. At some point during the night, Larry poked me and said he heard something outside the tent. I listened and soon I heard something give a loud growl. Man, we were both out of that tent like a shot! It’s a wonder we took time to unzip the door. Then next day we tried to figure out what it was and decided it was probably an opossum or raccoon having an argument with a cat about some food or something we had left outside the tent. I don’t ever remember attempting to sleep out in the tent again but it sure didn’t stop me from sleeping on the porch.
<br />I also remember on warm summer nights sitting out in the yard looking up at the dark star studded sky and watching for the Russian satellite, Sputnik. The Sputnik program was a series of robotic spacecraft missions launched by the Soviet Union. The first of these, Sputnik 1, launched the first human-made object to orbit the Earth. That launch took place on October 4, 1957 as part of the International Geophysical Year and demonstrated the viability of using artificial satellites to explore the upper atmosphere. It was amazing to us that we could look up and see it with the naked eye as it orbited far above us in the night sky. This was the stuff of Buck Rogers, and those of us who grew up on his exploits in outer space, were fascinated that space exploration was really possible. The satellite showed up as a moving light crossing the sky far above us. At this time, well before all the sightings of commercial air planes crisscrossing the sky that we see today, seeing a moving light in the sky was a big event.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPOD_-RYRehREVyCv0JZobQWEj4Mo8udcX0bM5pYQP9nIBlxsqhKOQ3kYr97r1-7Orv0VE6TVRCsVA1HhL5ih3mSAzWrFSTwH6jxfRL0Cet8PKjPThPARtC8JSfiimQD1VYDbZW4l9gS7Q/s1600/Lynn+%2526+Rosie+Nadroski+and+Corky+Chadwell++Aug+1958.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPOD_-RYRehREVyCv0JZobQWEj4Mo8udcX0bM5pYQP9nIBlxsqhKOQ3kYr97r1-7Orv0VE6TVRCsVA1HhL5ih3mSAzWrFSTwH6jxfRL0Cet8PKjPThPARtC8JSfiimQD1VYDbZW4l9gS7Q/s200/Lynn+%2526+Rosie+Nadroski+and+Corky+Chadwell++Aug+1958.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644574940738678706" /></a>
<br />Frank and Eva’s nieces, Lynn and Rosie, used to come over and visit them and we all became friends. It was a much simpler life in those days. Boys and girls could be friends with out everyone assuming they were more than friends. As I look back now, I feel sorry for kids who don’t have the kind of youth we had. But for several summers, Lynn, Rosie, a neighbor boy, Corky and I ran around together. We would go to movies in Athens, go to the fair, have cookouts and have great summer parties. Lynn and Corky were both in 4-H and so we went to the fair to show off their projects. She liked to sew her own clothes and I remember going to a fashion show at the fair where she modeled a dress she had made. I think I may even have a photo of her wearing that dress at the fair. Corky usually had a calf or lamb at the fair and I would spend the nights in the barns with him. The four of us would also mess around in the barns doing kid type stuff. I think I have a photo of Rosie on her hands and knees up on a sheep grooming bench. And then there were the rides and sideshows. I remember once Corky and I were riding the giant swings. As we went around one of his cowboy boots flew off his foot and sailed over on top of a nearby vendor tent. We had to go looking for it after we got off the ride.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc1hXfAovvSJDoLDzpbkFSG4Crt9HaOIqZd4JY5_MvsAy2O1tLNbzHj8rLSJp78CfDaoh2O2GrUsIcgzds8L25SkZozZzm8QqqlMmLs4U9WuYU77DP_irlMm7MEfgHixiDpaBlF9NfANLK/s1600/Rosie+Nadroski++Aug+1958+2.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 176px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc1hXfAovvSJDoLDzpbkFSG4Crt9HaOIqZd4JY5_MvsAy2O1tLNbzHj8rLSJp78CfDaoh2O2GrUsIcgzds8L25SkZozZzm8QqqlMmLs4U9WuYU77DP_irlMm7MEfgHixiDpaBlF9NfANLK/s200/Rosie+Nadroski++Aug+1958+2.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644575211412290418" /></a>
<br />I always had a lot more free time to roam the hills than Lynn, Rosie or Corky. They were farm kids and usually had to do chores to help out on their family farms. But we still found time to explore and discover the wonders of nature. I recall a huge woods back behind Frank’s farm where there were huge beech trees. They were gigantic and walking under them was a little creepy. There was very little noise, no sunlight, and not much undergrowth.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNA0NWkloQ1yDCgdwidm4GpN5s3Os8IkLzQ2PX1j1te3pxH6Hj1FJwKBAoBZKSU22UcrOEcVv26plu2LnhRdU5qACh1xttaYvQqksuXUc5DpBD9UX1LnQ9E0JMDFhiGoK5IDRFsc7qDn8r/s1600/Eva+Nadroski++Aug+1958+2.bmp"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 154px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNA0NWkloQ1yDCgdwidm4GpN5s3Os8IkLzQ2PX1j1te3pxH6Hj1FJwKBAoBZKSU22UcrOEcVv26plu2LnhRdU5qACh1xttaYvQqksuXUc5DpBD9UX1LnQ9E0JMDFhiGoK5IDRFsc7qDn8r/s200/Eva+Nadroski++Aug+1958+2.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644575405645692930" /></a>
<br />We also went to Bible School at the Presbyterian Church in Amesville for part of the summer. I remember at the end of one summer we were doing a play or some sort of end of Bible School Activity and my Mom arranged to come and get me to take me home on the same day so she could attend this activity. At one point in the program, it was time to pass the collection plate, and I was one of the people chosen to do this. Mom was appalled that I would do such a thing. We did not go in for this sort of thing at our church.
<br />Aunt Emma was very involved in a couple of community activities held every summer. One was the Fireman’s Festival, a street fair held in Amesville and the other was the Grange Booth at the Athens County Fair. She would always enlist me in helping with these activities. The first one, The Fireman’s Festival was held to raise money to help support the local Volunteer Fire Department. A side street in Amesville was closed off and there would be games and activities to participate in. Games like ring toss, pitching pennies and bingo were held in booths on the street. In the firehouse the trucks would be parked outside and long tables were set up and a ham and egg supper was served for a price. Everyone in the community supported this activity. For a couple of weeks before the event, Aunt Emma and I would drive the country roads all around Amesville, soliciting donations for the dinner and prizes for the booths. I loved riding these roads with Aunt Emma as she was always willing to stop if we saw something we thought we might use in a craft project. I remember one time we were going by someone’s garden and she saw some seed pods that interested her. We stopped and picked a few (they were radish plants that had gone to seed) and took them home to dry to use in dried flower arrangements. Another time we stopped to look at a tree that was full of some type of fruit I had never seen before. It turned out to be a persimmon tree and I can still feel the pucker of my mouth when I tasted one of them. Aunt Emma said they became very palatable after a frost had hit them. And we were always scouting for hickory and walnut nut trees, which she and Larry would come back to in the fall to pick up nuts.
<br />The Grange Booth at the County Fair was another big event in our summer lives. Once again we would get the car and visit grange members around Amesville. Aunt Emma would get promises from people to bring examples of their farms’ produce and flowers to use in the exhibit. I remember there were very specific requirements for the booth. There had to be a flag, a bible, and various other items displayed in the booth. Each year there would be a different theme to follow but it all built around canned and fresh fruits and vegetables, and other things produced by the farms of the area. We would also use corn and wheat stalks, dried weeds and seeds we would gather along the roads and anything else we could gather up as we drove about. It was a fun time when everyone got together to put the exhibit together. As I got older and became involved in 4-H and other activities, I didn’t have time to help as much as I had but I still always rode around with her looking for stuff along the roads and lanes of Ames Township.
<br />It seemed like everyone in the county went to the fair. Even Eva got dressed up in her hat and good dress to go to the fair. I have a picture of her by the seating on the hillside where we would sit to watch the horse races. It was the only times I ever saw her dressed up. She usually had on an old dress with a heavy duty apron on over it. This was what she wore in the barn and she had a similar outfit she wore around the house. I don’t think I ever saw her without an apron on except at the fair. Frank always wore the same type of clothes no matter where he was or what he was doing. He wore a work shirt and work pants, as I remember they were tan in color.
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<br />Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-74126963125183879412011-08-24T15:00:00.000-07:002011-08-25T05:41:02.969-07:00DOWN ON THE FARM Part 2THANKFUL THURSDAY-as suggested by geneabloggers. My aunt, Emma Bryson Morris, inspired my love of nature and my enthusiasm to share this joy with others.
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<br />My aunt Emma's neighbor, Frank, would hire me to help with the haying. When I first started going down there he put his hay up loose. He used a fork type piece of machinery called a Buck Rake. It fit on the front of the tractor and had long tines made of wood that stuck out in front of the tractor. It could be raised and lowered by hydraulics. He would drive the tractor along the windrow of hay that had been raked up and the hay would pile up on the tines until he had quite a large stack of hay. Then if he was storing it in a haystack he would drive to where we were building the stack of hay and raise the forks up to the top of the stack and my job was to pull the hay off, scatter it around on top of the stack and tromp it down. This was not one of my favorite activities. However, if we were putting the hay in the barn haymow, we would load the hay onto a wagon until we got a big pile and then haul it to the barn. At the barn there was a large inverted U-shaped piece of equipment hooked to a series of pulleys and ropes that we used to transfer the hay to the mow. The top of the U was hinged and the ends of the U were a little more curved in than a U. This made it so we could squeeze huge clumps of hay to the inside of the U. On Frank’s farm a tractor was hooked to the end of a rope and walked out from the barn. As the tractor was backed away, the U full of hay was raised up into the top of the barn where you pulled another rope that transferred the U of hay to a second rope that allowed you to pull the clump of hay to the part of the mow where you wanted to stack the hay. Then a third rope was yanked and the U spread apart, dumping the hay where you wanted it. Then someone would spread the hay out and tramp it down. At a neighbors that I sometimes helped with the haying they still used horses for this part of the job. My job with this method was to work the horse. I could either lead it or ride it to raise the hay up to the haymow. Which method do you think I would use?
<br />One year I was pleased to find that Frank had invested in a hay baler with his brother. Frank would go out the day before we were going to bale and cut the hay. Then the next morning he would take the hay rake pulled by the tractor and rake the hay into windrows. The windrow is formed by a hay rake, which rakes hay that has been cut by a mower machine into a row. If the weather was just right we could start baling in the afternoon. The goal was to get the hay cut, raked, baled and into the barn before it rained. So when it came time to make the hay, I would ride on the hay wagon which was pulled behind the baler which was pulled by the tractor. The hay in the windrow is lifted by tines into the baler's pickup. The hay is then dragged or augered into a chamber that runs the length of one side of the baler. A combination plunger and knife moves back and forth in the front end of this chamber. The knife, positioned just ahead of the plunger, cuts off the hay at the spot where it enters the chamber from the pickup. The plunger rams the hay rearwards, compressing it into the bales. A measuring device measures the amount of hay that is being compressed and, at the appropriate length it triggers the mechanism (the knotter) that wraps the twine around the bale and ties it off. Another conveyer would then move the bale out onto a shoot that brought the bale up near the front edge of the wagon where I would be standing with a hay hook in my hand. I would reach down, hook the bale and pull it onto the wagon. Then I had to drag the bale back, lift it up and stack it. We would continue this process until we had a full wagon of stacked bales. It was fairly easy until you got to the front of the wagon and had to stand on bales and reach way down to hook the new bale and drag it up and find a place to stack it. We put up a lot of hay this way for many years. I loved working in the hay fields because we would often find baby cotton tail rabbits that had been disturbed by the hay making process. I would jump off the wagon when I saw one, grab it, put it in my shirt pocket where it would crouch down and be back up on the wagon ready to grab the next bale. I would take these bunnies home where I fed them with an eye dropper until they were old enough to turn loose. Making hay was hot, dirty, itchy work. I was always happy at the end of the day because I knew how good the water would feel when I jumped into the creek to wash and cool off. And for this marvelous experience I would get paid the magnificent sum of one penny per bale. On a good day we would do about five hundred bales.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3wbm9wd817xFMgVSM5lmuNDg0ROaqdhwGfPF1ee9OIECVnH3IPZZopN-1PnQVvkmEDU6oOUPs965VLccFaGP7ICc08UJjF2QJnjobkoUcd2wSi6stTfin5-h50cnIq9BhoRXCByEWzmZ/s1600/Patches%252C+one+of+Aunt+Emma%2527s+cats.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 186px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB3wbm9wd817xFMgVSM5lmuNDg0ROaqdhwGfPF1ee9OIECVnH3IPZZopN-1PnQVvkmEDU6oOUPs965VLccFaGP7ICc08UJjF2QJnjobkoUcd2wSi6stTfin5-h50cnIq9BhoRXCByEWzmZ/s200/Patches%252C+one+of+Aunt+Emma%2527s+cats.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644574184678754354" /></a>
<br />I loved going “back on the hill” for the day. Sometimes I would take a lunch, two water buckets and my little berry pail and pick blackberries. I would stay out until I had both my buckets full. I hooked my berry pail (a small container with a handle) through my belt so I could pick with both hands. When I got the pail full I would dump it into the larger buckets. I knew where all the biggest and juiciest berries grew. I picked berries for Aunt Emma, Grandma Morris and my Mom. Aunt Emma would make the berries into juice and can it in quart jars for Grandma and Mom to make jelly and jam. In addition to making jelly and jam, Aunt Emma would make pies and a berry pudding. I really liked the pudding. She made it in a bread loaf pan and it had the consistency of cake. We would slice it and eat it with milk on it, hot or cold.
<br />Other times I would just go exploring. I liked being off by myself, pretending I was an explorer in some strange lands. I always carried a paper grocery sack folded up small in my back hip pocket ‘just in case’. Sometimes I would bring home bits of moss, ferns, flowers and rocks and chunks of wood and make a terrarium where I could put snakes, toads, tiny tortoises, or strange bugs I found. Other times I took a net and would catch butterflies and other insects for my collection. I would tramp up hill and down; I especially liked to walk along dry creek beds that came down off the hills. Sometime I would find things like; an empty tortoise shell, small animal skulls and bones, and other interesting junk I would drag home. I wonder that Aunt Emma put up with all my stuff. But she would show interest in what I brought home and help me figure out ways to preserve and display my treasures.
<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhATSoc7Ola-arqjCetMzCnk1MNrDjfvFPm6G5U1OSEnwdtzo1QBr7Rax8sn-rBUfYWQyPnNfE5wWytegmWPoHahofaedQI4UTUu0irZaSaPFmn16GVhdV5kt2Nv_BIsGS2Z0IyYbZgAfAY/s1600/Two+of+Aunt+Emma%2527s+kittens.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 179px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhATSoc7Ola-arqjCetMzCnk1MNrDjfvFPm6G5U1OSEnwdtzo1QBr7Rax8sn-rBUfYWQyPnNfE5wWytegmWPoHahofaedQI4UTUu0irZaSaPFmn16GVhdV5kt2Nv_BIsGS2Z0IyYbZgAfAY/s200/Two+of+Aunt+Emma%2527s+kittens.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644573813569875330" /></a>
<br />When I would go back on the hill, I might be gone all day and never see another person or a house. There were deep valleys, thick woods with gigantic trees, and even a rock cliff. One time I was sitting up on the edge of the cliff and I saw something moving across the valley at the edge of the woods. At first I thought it was a large black dog but then I realized it was a bear. Now when I was a kid, there were very few deer or other large animals to be found. It is only after I became an adult that the deer, bear, and mountain lion numbers increased to where their sightings became fairly common. So when I went home that afternoon and said I had seen a bear, I’m not sure I was believed. If only I had had a camera. But it probably wouldn’t have shown up in a picture as cameras then were not like cameras of today.
<br />Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-76157178790453633912011-08-24T12:50:00.000-07:002011-09-02T13:07:35.095-07:00Genea-Musings: Tuesday's Tip - Check out the BYU Family History Archives<iframe src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=widgetsamazon-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B0002ZI8SO&fc1=000000&IS2=1<1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align:left;padding-top:5px;width:131px;height:245px;padding-right:10px;"align="left" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe><a href="http://www.geneamusings.com/2011/08/tuesdays-tip-check-out-byu-family.html">Genea-Musings: Tuesday's Tip - Check out the BYU Family History Archives</a>Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-72207396163270674882011-08-24T07:17:00.000-07:002011-09-02T13:10:24.336-07:00DOWN ON THE FARM Part 1 <br />
There are many minor characters in my life history who in one way or another had an impact on my life. One couple who were a part of my life in the formative years and a constant in my life from the age of nine was Frank and Eva Nadroski. They lived next door to my Aunt Emma. They operated a 100 acre dairy farm. They were siblings and were true examples of the meaning of “the salt of the earth” people. They were of Polish extraction. Frank was an average height man with a red, weather beaten face. Eva was a short round little woman that for the most part was always jolly. Eva was the oldest of four children and the only girl. She wore glasses and they were usually held together with tape. <br />
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjULI406b7k2uCcqSvztcnwSERTkO0Vnrdvq8fBJZAVyU4bqSo_PE5EKpv3-dWpGiykJ4NXprxdpNgTGL44AtBQ1Z6Ilr36dplrxZ2bf7_GzBWcDt9q9ExFV43D_gMSuF1M6WqaSGjeq1Tp/s1600/Eva+Nadroski++Aug+1958.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjULI406b7k2uCcqSvztcnwSERTkO0Vnrdvq8fBJZAVyU4bqSo_PE5EKpv3-dWpGiykJ4NXprxdpNgTGL44AtBQ1Z6Ilr36dplrxZ2bf7_GzBWcDt9q9ExFV43D_gMSuF1M6WqaSGjeq1Tp/s200/Eva+Nadroski++Aug+1958.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644427889580489682" /></a> <br />
The jobs on the farm were assigned by gender. Frank did all the manual type labor on the farm; plowing, planting, harvesting, etc. and Eva did the housework; kept the milk house, milk cans, and milkers spotless and took care of the calves. She fed the calves with a bucket with a nipple on the bottom. Sometimes she would let me help with the calves but once I got old enough to realize this was “women’s work”, I didn’t do it anymore. Eva, being a small person, was constantly being knocked about by the rambunctious calves. This resulted in the broken glasses and her walking around in a gimpy way a lot of the time. Frank and Eva never owned a car. Frank had a John Deere tractor and he would go to Amesville on it if he needed something in a hurry from the hardware store. They would go grocery shopping with their brother or his wife. Aunt Emma would also pick up necessities for them when she went shopping in Athens. They lived very basic, hard working lives. Eva died in August of 1972 at the age of 69 and Frank died at 65 in November, 1976. I recently visited their graves in the McDougal Church cemetery. On Frank’s tombstone is the following epitaph: “The face of the earth was his easel, His paint was the seed, His tools were his brushes, An artist indeed”. <br />
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I first became acquainted with them in 1952 when I first started spending my summers with Aunt Emma. They had a brother, Stanley, who with his wife, Thelma, lived about five miles away on another farm. They had three daughters, Sandy, Lynn and Rosalie. Sandy was Larry’s age, Lynn was my age and Rosie was a couple of years younger than me. More about them later. Frank and Eva had another brother, John, who was killed in the Millfield Mine Explosion. The Millfield Mine disaster, Ohio's worst mine disaster, occurred November 5, 1930, in a Sunday Creek Coal Company mine in Athens County, Ohio. According to the historical marker at the site in Millfield, the explosion killed 82 people, including the company's top executives who were in the mine inspecting new safety equipment. Nine hours after the explosion, rescuers found 19 miners alive underground, three miles from the main shaft. The disaster attracted national press coverage and international attention, and it prompted improvement of Ohio's mine safety laws in 1931. The first explosion was tremendous. Tons of slate and coal were jolted into the passageways. Bodies of many of the workers were dismembered. A short time later, there was a second blast and the mine filled with gas which penetrated masks and held back rescuers until night. <br />
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I have always been an early morning person and this served me well on the farm. I was usually the first person up and out of the house. I would go up to the barn that was located up behind Aunt Emma’s house and find Frank and Eva already in the barn. They milked about thirty cows and usually started about 5:30 am. I would go up and help them get the barn ready for the cows to come in from the pasture. I was amazed to learn that each cow had her own stall and knew just were to go. One of my jobs was to scatter a little feed in the trough in front of each stall so as the cows came in they would go up and stick their heads through the stanchions. Then Frank would go up between each cow and lock the head restraint section of the stanchion so the cows could not wander about the barn. Eva would then come out of the milk house with a bucket of warm water with some sort of orangy red disinfectant and begin washing off the cows’ udders and teats. Frank would go into the milk house and get a milking machine that Eva had put together while Frank and I brought the cows in from the pasture. There was not a lot of talking in the barn but everyone knew their job and went about it in an efficient manner. As one cow was finished, Eva had another one washed, I dumped in a scoop full of feed and Frank placed the milkers on the cow. I don’t really remember how my part in this routine came about. I just remember at an early age I helped them nearly every morning that I was staying at Aunt Emma’s. I also helped them at the evening milking but not as regularly as I did in the morning. A lot of times in the afternoon I was off wandering the hills or doing things with Aunt Emma. I didn’t get paid to do this. I just did it for the enjoyment I got associating with Frank and Eva and being a “farmer. <br />
From my earliest memory all I ever wanted was to be a farmer. So when I was at Aunt Emma’s, I got the chance to be a sort of farmer. I loved going out in the early morning mists to bring the cows into the barn. As I got older, Frank let me do this on my own. I remember learning an important lesson that I have used often in my work with kids in school. As I would bring the dairy herd in, they would approach the gate which was closed. I would have to work my way up through the cows to open the gate. I would have to be careful not to let the cows bunch up too much at the gate. If I pressed them too close together they would begin to butt and kick one another. I learned that if I left them loosely gathered at the gate they waited peacefully and patiently for me to open the gate. Then I stood at the gate and only let through the cows that needed to be milked. There were always several cows that were not being milked for one reason or another; they were waiting to have a calf, they were too young to have had a calf yet or they were the bull or steers. I guess at this point I should explain the different types of cows found in a dairy herd. The majority of the herd were cows that were producing milk. In order for a cow to give milk they had to have had a calf in the not too distant past. At some point during the year, a cow would begin to show a decrease in milk production because they were again about to have another calf. They usually had one calf a year and about a month or two before the calf was born the cow would stop giving milk. I suppose this was so the cow’s body could devote itself to producing a strong healthy calf instead of milk. So a percentage of the herd was cows that were “dry” or not giving milk at this time. Another part of the herd consisted of heifers. Heifers are female cows that have not yet had a calf. They could be a couple of months up to a year old. It seems to me that Frank did not allow his heifers to be bred until they were a year old. Part of the time, if there was a cow ready to be bred, Frank would have the bull in the pasture with the cows. Not too long after I started helping, Frank quit keeping a bull and started using a new fangled notion, Artificial Insemination, to breed his cows. This was a vast improvement on having a bull around. With the bull you had to feed him and care for him a large part of the year when he was not needed. Also, you could keep records and know exactly when a cow was due to calve and you could keep her in a field near the barn where you could keep an eye on her. Another great plus for this method was that the company that provided the service had a catalogue of bulls that you could leaf through and pick out a sire that had a good record for producing healthy calves, cows that gave large quantities of milk and pick the breed you wanted. For example, if you had a cow that usually had male calves, you could breed her to a beef breed so you got a calf that would be raised to put meat on the table. I remember one instance where Frank chose to breed one of his cows to a Charolais Bull. This was an unheard of breed in Athens County and many people would stop by the farm to see this calf after it was born. Today Charolais cattle are pretty common. Eva named this calf Sean and this calf was a winner. He grew fast and was a big, blocky shape. His mother was a Holstein and he had the spots associated to that breed but they were a kind of gray/brown color instead of black. He was so big for his age that people were amazed. Sean ended up on the dinner table - which was his purpose in life. <br />
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I had some favorites among the cows that I still remember to this day. One was named Pansy and the other, Cindy. Pansy had big liquid blue eyes. She would see me in the pasture when I was out picking berries or hiking around and come up to me to see what I was doing. She loved having her head rubbed behind her ears. She was a brown and white spotted cross between a Holstein and a Jersey. The other, Cindy, was a brown Jersey and she also would recognize me when I was out in the field and come and see if I had something to feed her. Often I would share my snack with her. She would eat about anything I had; apples, carrots, celery or part of a peanut butter sandwich. Most of the heard were black and white Holsteins and I probably liked these cows because they were different. And for some reason the Holsteins never seemed as friendly and often were suspicious of me. <br />
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Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-3220860095867977702011-08-23T18:34:00.000-07:002011-08-23T18:35:30.617-07:00Stout Funeral Home Nelsonville, Ohio Death & Burial RecordsMany years ago my mother, Ruth Morris Blimes, and her sister, Marilyn Morris Carter, transcribed the records from the Stout Funeral Home in Nelsonville, Ohio. Several months ago my cousin, Ginny, brought me a box of folders with handwritten notes made by these two devoted ladies. She and asked me if I wanted to do something with these documents. What a gift! The records begin in December of 1906 and continue into the 1950s. Now begins the loving chore of putting all of this information into a format that can be used like an ebook for anyone who might be looking for this family information.
<br />Each year is documented with names, dates of death and burial, age, place of residence, occupations, burial places and in some cases the names of parents or spouses. Some notations have only a few vital statistics, such as names and dates while others even tell how they died (“death by falling slate in mine”). This is an interesting project.
<br />Sharing what I learn about my ancestors inspires me to keep digging for details about the lives of those who lived before. My ties to Nelsonville, Ohio run deep and the stories of those who lived and died there bring life into their bones. One of the first entries I read was for the twin daughters of my great grandfather Frank Tolliver (Hessie & Tessie). Many historians thought that there was only one child, either Hessie or Tessie, but this record proves what my mother had told me about the birth and death of these twin girls. Now I have a verifying death date direct from a primary source. Can’t wait to see what else I will find in these records.
<br />Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-61465873951060643932011-06-02T20:16:00.000-07:002011-06-02T20:25:22.996-07:00How You Can Build a FREE Family TreeHow You Can Build a FREE Family Tree <br />Yes, there is a wealth of information online, contributed by genealogists, researchers and “normal” people just like you, and it’s all for FREE. It won’t cost you a dime to create a tree with verified ancestors, you know the ones, the kind that you can prove you really are related to. Not just names and dates but pictures and stories so you can build a legacy to share with your family.<br />There are several FREE websites that will help you get a started. Many dedicated (and addicted) genealogists have contributed their research to sites that are free and you can use this information to help locate your ancestors. After you learn who your great greats are then you can search for their life stories, say “howdy” and shake their hand.<br />If we list these sites like these could it hurt our research business? No way! There is always more to do and sometimes even the most dedicated searcher gets stuck and needs the help of a professional. Not everyone has the time to search like we do, or loves it as much as we do, or is as good as we are. Anyway, keep reading and you will learn how to create a tree and how to water it with sources so it will grow branches and show you where you came from and who helped make you into YOU.<br />To begin a tree you need a program in which to put your ancestors. Oh, there are lots of “free” programs that will let you start a tree and not charge you until they have you hooked. You have probably been burned by one of these - so we suggest using PAF (Personal Ancestral File). It was created by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day-Saints and is available as a FREE download on their website at http://www.familysearch.org/eng/paf/. It truly is FREE and stays FREE no matter how much you add to it. It’s a part of familysearch.org which is one of the best sites to search for your ancestors. Not all of the information there is correct but it will give you clues for your research. Remember, if something doesn’t look right (like mom was born after her child) don’t record it until you verify the correct dates. If you have family records about great aunt Mable, left to you by your grandmother, use her information while you locate documents that will verify her birth date and place.<br />Go ahead and download PAF right onto your computer or put it on a disc or external drive. If you have a partial tree you can download it as a gedcom (GEnealogical Data COMmunication) file and add it to your PAF program. A gedcom file is a way to transfer genealogy files. It will transfer all the names, dates, notes and sources that have been researched. Media, such as photos, do not transfer. Hopefully the day will come soon when pictures will transfer on a gedcom file. Transferring them one at a time is a pain so keep up to date with them as you go.<br />In our next blog we will continue listing FREE family history software and websites so you can build your tree without spending a dime.Bill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2349673601619583773.post-19484533674097047312010-02-22T15:41:00.000-08:002010-02-22T16:08:43.322-08:00The Hocking, Ohio Canal<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.wix.com/bblimes/blimes-research-services"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZ1D9nF_OTiyJO0Dqty8Cci-qNPuzRQdIVdU1nb_3TGQppKmdan_B9vB7trigQx1cvBZSuOmB3k2_1Pc4Ycb-9B7riKQwUpklzkDFby5bQFpY2P53wmcw29XBPjfiG7W79M1xWced02wO/s200/IMG_1961.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441221452066823154" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBy6nD4sBmJ0d3722Xe_fxmODRm7-mJPYpMQvOL-A2dqmvuFIY6J3aklnt6q1NVQl5cQcQLPHkhhXhF2JW7k_yp8Gw6b8-xEgljeORkXllBjpD_DDDjJ7ypHPFkkX9J7cyrNz1_iJRRlXh/s1600-h/IMG_1960.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBy6nD4sBmJ0d3722Xe_fxmODRm7-mJPYpMQvOL-A2dqmvuFIY6J3aklnt6q1NVQl5cQcQLPHkhhXhF2JW7k_yp8Gw6b8-xEgljeORkXllBjpD_DDDjJ7ypHPFkkX9J7cyrNz1_iJRRlXh/s200/IMG_1960.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441221140438614194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpkPGdrCBUk5N8n1rYQw7oE81DyHL35YEXY3ZvSnfxAU2NidAAYtbXN9pgH7zdnuBl3J4F1IrGTCC1WuGD3IfxGH5wA0FsPgV7dvy6Y_SYASlJJEPZtDOYNrO8GaVY0UD1yIpD_T7Ykdsb/s1600-h/Charles+Albert+Harrold.bmp"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 138px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpkPGdrCBUk5N8n1rYQw7oE81DyHL35YEXY3ZvSnfxAU2NidAAYtbXN9pgH7zdnuBl3J4F1IrGTCC1WuGD3IfxGH5wA0FsPgV7dvy6Y_SYASlJJEPZtDOYNrO8GaVY0UD1yIpD_T7Ykdsb/s200/Charles+Albert+Harrold.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441220528219586210" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I was born in Nelsonville, Ohio, in 1943. By then the Hocking Canal was just a memory. In Nelsonville, the canal bed had been filled in and paved to make a place for Route 33 to go through town. The Hocking Canal was authorized in 1836 as a branch of the Ohio and Erie Canal with which it made a junction at Carroll Ohio. Vestiges of the canal can be seen at several locations including Lancaster, Logan and Nelsonville. The region was particularly rich in iron and salt and allowed the canal to operate well into the declining years of the canal era. Partial abandonment of 7 miles of the canal below Chauncey to Athens, including the Athens terminal took place in 1874. Final abandonment and lease of some canal property to the Hocking Valley Railroad took place in 1894.<br />The Hocking Canal used towpath navigation with both horses and mule power. It was constructed to the dimensions and standards set out by the Ohio and Erie Canal of which it was a branch. In addition to 27 lift locks, there were 5 guard locks, 34 culverts, 8 feeder and slack water dams and one aqueduct that spanned about 80 feet over Monday Creek. Long after the canal had been abandoned and replaced with the railroad, a new invention, the automobile, began to make its presence known. In the mid 1930s, after years of abandonment, the Hocking Canal bed was filled in many places and paved over to create State Route 33 that extended south to the Ohio River.<br /><br />In Nelsonville, some of the cut stones used in constructing the locks were used to help strengthen the levee along the Hocking River. Other stones were used as bleachers at Estel Crabtree Field, the Nelsonville baseball field, and can still be seen today. My great- great-grandfather’s brother, Charles Albert Harrold, was a stone mason. He lived in Zanesville, Muskingum, Ohio until he got a job building locks on the canal. He liked the village of Nelsonville and decided to build a home and move his family to the small town nestled in the little valley. About three miles west of Nelsonville along Route 33 is Johnny Appleseed Park which has preserved Hocking Canal Lock 19. The stones at this site were cut and placed by Charles Albert Harrold and his crew.<br /><br />Charles purchased nearly six acres about halfway up the hill on the North side of the valley. Using the skills of his trade, he cut large sandstone blocks from the hillside behind the house. He used these stones to build walls in a cellar and a foundation for the house he built at 510 High Street. My family retained ownership of this home until the death of my Grandmother, Marquise Elizabeth Goodspeed Morris, in 1995.<br />The Hocking Canal was completed to Nelsonville in 1840. Extending it from Nelsonville to Athens would take another 3 years. It was this initial completion to Nelsonville that benefited this area the most. Businessmen now had ways of exporting coal dug out of nearby mines to the factories and homes in Columbus. Besides shipping coal north, salt, pork and wood products also went north. On return trips, the canals brought manufactured products south.<br />There were 3 types of canal boats on the Hocking Canal. Most of them were cargo boats designed to carry the crew and mule teams and nothing else. Some were family boats that were, more often than not, cargo boats. The difference was that the family boats had space for the captain and his family. The 3rd type of boats were packet boats which transported mail and passengers, but these were used much less frequently.<br />Having a canal and canal boats in town was not always a benefit. In one account, on July 19, 1863, after having lost 2/3s of his men in a crushing defeat on Buffington Island on the Ohio River, a confederate cavalry of 400 men led by General John Morgan entered Nelsonville and burned most of the canal boats tied up in the canal basin. The rebels looted the stores in Nelsonville and rode off with all the horses they could find. They also set fire to a covered bridge to slow down the Union forces pursuing them. However, the townspeople quickly put out the fire within a few hours keeping it intact for the Union cavalry to cross over. Some of Morgan’s men showed up at one of my great, great grandmother’s farm and besides taking all of her chickens, they took the baking bread out of her oven. But that is another story…<br /><br />Check out this link to my new family history business, Legacy Locators. <br />http://www.wix.com/bblimes/blimes-research-servicesBill Blimeshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17542182137485994305noreply@blogger.com1